Moorhen -v- Swamphen

The Collins Bird Guide is decent enough but I always get irritated when I flick past the skuas to see the Arctic referred to as the Parasitic Skua.  I can just about live with Barn Swallow but I refuse, point blank, to call divers loons. I reserve that moniker for the people who think this is a good idea (with apols to any American readers).

There is one change of name that I hadn't noticed however, because it refers to a bird I'd never come across until my recent visit to the S'Albufera reserve in Majorca.  So it seems that the Purple Gallinule is now the Purple Swamp-hen. Well there you go.  Whatever you choose it call it, it's well worth a look.  This one strolled past the hide I was sharing with a few dozen mozzies.

As it strutted across some dried up mud minding its own business, there was a sudden commotion and a seriously cross moorhen appeared from nowhere and began circling the big rail in its best aggressive threat posture.

The moorhen did its utmost but the swamphen just stood and stared at it.

By this point the moorhen was absolutely doing its nut.  After a short while, the Gallinule just stretched out its lanky legs and strode off into the sunset.

It was a scene that reminded me of the classic bit in the Jungle Book film where Kaa the snake is trying to hypnotise Shere Kahn the tiger. He goes through his eye twirling, th-th-inging routine until a bored Shere Khan just splats Kaa's head under a huge paw and says 'Oh, I haven't got time for that sort of nonsense'.

The story of the Purple Gallinule at S'Albufera is interesting. Hunted to extinction here, a re-introduction programme began in 1991 with 28 birds released.  By 1999, there were 200 pairs.

Balearic ballerina

Ah well, that's the holiday over for this year. For a lad who was never let out of doors without a string vest on, I struggled with the Majorcan temperatures of 30C and, as the sun beat down on my ever-widening parting, I yearned for a really miserable sea fret. My idea of holiday hell is sitting on a crowded Med beach, rubbing in gritty suntan lotion and slowly rotating all day.  So, the compromise we arrived at whereby I dropped the family at the beach then took off for an hour or two's exploration was just the job.  Luckily, we were not far from the nature reserve of S'Albufera and I managed a couple of afternoon sessions there. So here is a little piece of  Majorcan elegance.. and its nothing to do with the bodies on the beach.

I watched this one do a black-winged stilt-walk for a while, delicately picking off bits and pieces from the water surface, and then it looked up and posed a half decent arabesque - without falling over.

Really, those legs are ridiculous. But not half as much as some you see on the beach.