Out in the dreariest desert there is one strange bird that the traveller may see; not commonly, but only rarely when a camel dies. On such occasions one may watch the clear blue sky, where it reaches its uttermost height, and, in time, discern the tiniest speck, at a tremendous distance, poised there for a seeming indefinite period. By and by, in like inexplicable manner, other specks foregather from unseen source beyond the sight of men. And there they may remain for hours, perhaps coming a little nearer; but on the morning following one awakes to find huge Griffon Vultures sitting ghoul-like round the carcase, waiting the time that it shall be torn asunder while one, perched on the head, endeavours to start an opening round the soft parts of the eye.
Of different character to such wilderness places of bird life are the oases of the Sahara, where a few species which I term sedentary birds are to be found; and migrants, on their way across Africa.
Date palms, garden cultivation, and open irrigation ditches, are the chief attractions to bird life in such places; but, since these are in close proximity to dwellings and the disturbance of mankind, only a few species settle permanently in these localities. Birds that are fairly sure to be seen in oases are: Desert Ravens, on the look out to pillage scraps, Black Wheatears, living on the ants and flies that molest habitations, Yellow Sparrows, frequenting the palms, and Striolated Buntings that are prone to be very tame and sparrow-like about the dusty hut-doors.
The unexpected in oases is very often some migrant, if the season be March-April in the spring, or October-November in the autumn. At these times birds flight on their long, instinct-prompted voyage, across Africa, and, should one be out on the desert, strange calls may be heard overhead at night from flocks that wing their way through the sky. Some of these migrants lose their way, or lose their strength, and falter, for crossing the Great Desert is akin to crossing the sea. I have known Swallows and Wagtails and Shrikes to come flying in toward my caravan, when it was the only object in an immensity of space, and seek a resting-place on the loads of the camels. On one occasion I caught a Yellow Wagtail by putting out a hand from my seat in the saddle to seize it as a cricketer clutches a ball. It was in great distress, and I tipped my water-bottle until the bird could see the water at the mouth. Immediately it drank hungrily, though clasped in my hand. I carried it thereafter until an oasis was reached, when I set it free.
YOUNG ARAB BUSTARDS
In cruel, ungiving desert the traveller, at times, comes across the pitiful skeletons of birds that have perished from thirst and want on ill-fated pilgrimage. And mortal mind pauses in sympathy with the wild in the appalling poverty of such a lingering death; for all who know the desert are aware of the grim price that is paid by any living creature unfortunate enough to become involved in the folds of a land that expresses neither mercy nor hate, yet slowly kills with terrifying intent.
On the other hand, distressed migrants sometimes find succour in landing at oases. And the numbers of wayfarers that drift into such harbours in this way are astonishing because they are so out of place in their temporary sandy surroundings. For instance, I have shot our Common Snipe in the Sahara, and collected Tern, Stilt, Sandpiper, Shoveller, Pintail, Teal, Heron, and others that have nothing whatever in common with the country.
It would be irksome to go into all the details that surround the bird life of the Sahara, but a few further notes on the Tuareg folklore that relates to certain species may be of interest before concluding. In each case I give the native name of the Tuaregs.
The Black Wheatear is known to the nomad as Seni Seni. “It is the bird that brings news of strangers; particularly news of robbers. If anyone strange is approaching, Seni Seni flies at once into a prominent position and perches perfectly still, attentively watching. Whenever the little bird becomes satisfied that the figures are strangers it commences to bob its head rapidly up and down; and so one may take warning. If they are not strangers assuredly the bird will hop down to pick about the ground and take no further notice.”