Urban waters, Bucharest
A duo trip to Bucharest's largest nature preserve, quietly home to an astounding biodiversity.
Background
Easter break means a lot of things, including more photo opportunities in brand-new settings. Even more than that, a cure for the usual loneliness I'm used to experiencing across my usual trips (and while living abroad, in general). I planned this evening escapade with my close friend
, whose companionship more than made up for the myriad of missed opportunities and out-of-focus shots that riddled the trip.I had no particular targets, only high hopes - the Văcărești Delta definitely had plenty of those to offer. Some of these hopes were were fulfilled, be it only briefly, others were left to the evening's embrace.
Gear up!
The preserve came to be after a building project which involved the damming of Bucharest's Dâmbovița River was abandoned more than three decades ago, leaving the remaining marshland to be quickly reclaimed by nature.
Standing at the top of the dam, we equiped our lenses and headed into the sparsely forested marshes below. All was relatively quiet, as the warm, late-afternoon sun still dulled wildlife activity. Some weirdly shaped ruins adorned the bushes - perhaps remains of old settlements or infrastructure.
Going deeper, a grassy clearing revealed itself, and, while deciding where to go next, a Pheasant's call finally broke the silence - the first of many we would hear across the entire trip. Heading toward the source, we somehow spooked the hidden bird - it flew off cackling, too fast for either of us to manage even a blurry shot. "No matter", we thought, "they're everywhere, surely we'll manage to get it on camera at some point." Well, we were very wrong about that, as the bird remained elusive to the very end. We heard its calls numerous times, but each time we headed through the tall grasses to search for the source, it was nowhere to be found.
Pond of oportunity
Nearing a small pond, a lone Mallard stood watch. Of course, it's far from an uncommon sighting, but both me and Ștefan were eager to finally photograph something moving. We took the opportunity to test out some photos, as well as to adjust the settings on his camera - it was, after all, the first time he was using my old 70-300mm Tamron.
Just a few metres ahead, another puddle lay secluded among the reeds. Close to moving on, an European Pond Turtle basking on a muddy bank put a stop in our tracks. We had time for a proper photoshoot - the turtle wasn't really in a hurry either. Finally, the day seemed to be kicking off.
Pond of despair
Continuing along the trail, we heard an unfamiliar birdsong from the willows close to the water's edge. Merlin identified it as a Penduline Tit, an uncommon species in the area. Once again, we made our way through the thickets, hoping to get closer to the source. While looking around, Ștefan spotted a weird nest-like structure hanging from a willow branc, shaped like a woven pendulum. We stared at it, scratching the backs of our heads at what it could be. It took us a while to figure out the nest is where the "penduline" part of the aforementioned bird's nest came from. After the revelation, we lingered for a few minutes, hoping the bird would show up home. Sure enough, a Penduline Tit flew landed on a nearby branch, but quickly flew off before I even had the chance to lift my lens - presumably scared by our presence near its home. Not wanting to deter it from its nest any further, we moved on empty handed.
Our bad luck ran further. At the water's edge, two more birds were waiting carelessly. One was a Coot, a common resident, but the other one quickly grabbed my attention. A male Northern Shoveler was foraging just in front of it, less than 10 metres away. This should have been the easiest shot of my live, the subject was clear, and the background was far enough away from it, but my camera had other plans! Easily a potential shot of the day candidate - but my 250D's penchant for losing focus at the worst possible times cannot be understimated.
Following my friend's example, I drowned my sorrows on the unbothered Coot preening nearby. Some great shots, mind you, but my the Shoveler had long hidden amongst the reeds...
Sea of Gulls
Walking away in defeat, we started nearing the centre of the preserve. The schreeching calls of a Black-Headed Gull colony became dominant, and soon, nothing else could be heard. A single creature dared stand in our path - a small, blue butterfly.
An ID would be greatly appreciated! Insects aren’t our strong suit.
Reaching a bird observatory, we saw some gulls perching on its guard rails. We momentarily swapped equipment - I got reaquainted with my old lens, while my friend got to try on my Sigma 150-600mm. The squabbling Gulls made surprisingly good subjects.
He got close to the perfect aerial shot, but guess what my camera did - again!
No matter though, at least we got some great photos (plus, I was still thinking about the Shoveler anyways).
Fun fact, this gull (below) was missing a leg:
Nearby, a beautiful landscape awaited - small yellow flowers adorned a shallow lake, where a Mute Swan was foraging on their tubers.
The gulls were, of course, incessantly circling the pool, and I couldn't help but take another photo of one idly sitting by.
The watch tower
Another bird watching station lay just ahead, overlooking a vast swathe of water. All seemed quiet with the exception of some Gulls in the distance, but Ștefan soon spotted what we first thought were Little Grebes emerging from the reeds. Holding the 150-600mm, it was him who managed these photos. Zooming into the photo, the Grebes soon turned into Ferruginous Ducks.
The wind started blowing harder, so we soon descended and moved on, while we still had daylight. Straying further from the water, the sightings dwindled, with the exception of a single pheasant fluttering through some reeds - another attempt at finding it soon renewed our failure.
Reaching the park's edge, I chased a lone Hooded Crow, while my friend tried surprising a White Wagtail. I joined him, but to no avail. The light was getting dimmer, and my already challenged camera could barely focus on such a smalled target.
Sunset was nigh - we decided to head back, following the exact trail we took initially, in the hopes of stumbling across missed opportunities.
A small flutter grabbed my attention. A small, unassuming bird, landed on a nearby tree. At first sight it looked like a simple sparrow, but after my camera finally decided to focus through countless branches, it became clear that it was something else entirely. Using Merlin, we identified it as a Tree Pipit. Finally, a small bird that could somewhat put and end to our sighting drought.
Nearing the water gardens, the omnipresent Black-Headed Gulls had been joined by a pair of Terns. Diving quickly in the water, my only chance was capturing them from below, at the apex of their dive. Initially, I assumed them to be Common Terns, but during post-processing, raising the exposure revealed their dark-coloured belly. That can only mean one species - the Whiskered Tern, first time on camera.
By the time we reached the Shoveler's pond, nothing lower than ISO 5000 could provide a decent photo. With almost zero expectations, I glanced at the pool. To my surprise, the Shoveler was there, preening. Excited, I took a step forward - but that's all it took for it to fly off like I had shot a bullet in its direction. All it had done previously was hide amongst the reeds...
No matter, the time for photography was at its end. One last shot of a Magpie at 10000 ISO sealed the day, at least visually.
Evening's choir
The sun was due to set in a few minutes, and strange new noises started coming from the reeds - an insect-like, continuous screech became dominant. At first we thought it to be a frog of sorts, bur after trying on Merlin on a whim, it identified a bird I had never even heard of - Savi's Warbler (Locustella luscinioides).
Intrigued, we took a detour, getting closer and closer to the dried reeds the song seemed to be stemming from. Despite feeling it as if it was right next to us, the bird remained unseen. Straying further from the path, the screech was joined by the beautiful song of the Common Reed and Moustached Warblers, while the elusive Penduline Tit quietly peeped from the willows.
Nothing dared interrupt the choir - not even a soaring Sparrowhawk. When we finally left the, nightfall had already come. The misterious call of a Scops Owl waves us goodbye.
At the end of the day, the missed oportunties and bad camera focus were nothing compared to what the preserve promises in the future.
Friendship and birdsong cure all sorrows, as it would seem.
‘Friendship and birdsong cure all sorrows, as it would seem.’ 🫶🏼
I’m seeing birds I’ve never seen before! And the one legged one?! 🥺 good he has wings 😅
Really nice photos. I especially like the 2 images of the Black-Headed Gull. That second photo of the Black-Headed Gull looking directly at you is such a great shot.
Re: your Northern Shoveler photo, I had something similar happen a few weeks ago with a Ruby-crowned Kinglet. The kinglet landed on a branch about 3 metres from me. I took a few images and every single one was either blurred out or the kinglet had turned away from me so I was not able to capture their ruby-crown on their head. Haha, perhaps I'll have better luck next time.