Israel's Good Name

Archive for May, 2021|Monthly archive page

Snow in the Golan

In Golan, Israel on May 30, 2021 at 9:26 AM

The Sunday morning after the adventure to the Northwest Negev, Bracha and I packed up the Dacia Duster with our belongings for a three-day vacation to the faraway Golan. Quite exciting for us, a substantial amount of snow had fallen just before the weekend and Alon, our AirBnB contact, sent us a nice video of the white goodness that was awaiting us. We had chosen to stay at a quaint cabin-like place, or tzimmer, in Ein Zivan, located quite near the Syrian border by Quneitra, rather ideal for those who appreciate snow. It had been years since either of us had seen proper snow, so we were both brimming over with excitement as we made the long drive up, hoping that the sun wasn’t working too fast at melting it all away.

The Golan white with snow

The Golan white with snow

We entered the Golan from the area of Capernaum and, even as we neared Qatsrin, the veritable capital of the region, we couldn’t see any traces of snow – save the snowy distant peaks of Mount Hermon, which is generally the case every winter. Being as though we had a good handful of activities planned out in our three-day itinerary, we masterfully scheduled a quick olive oil factory tour at Qatsrin as we made our way to Ein Zivan. I had been to the Olea Essence factory two or three times before, but my last visit was only in 2016 and I was excited for Bracha to get a chance to see it.

Olea Essence olive oil factory in Qatsrin

Olea Essence olive oil factory in Qatsrin

It was interesting to see how the olive oils and olive-based beauty products are made, yet also sad to see that despite their recent breakthroughs into lucrative Asian markets, the coronavirus pandemic had wreaked havoc on the company’s financial situation. We toured their newly upgraded factory, the machinery unfortunately idle as the company simply couldn’t keep the production cogs turning. In the gift shop we felt the limitations of the pandemic even stronger, having to taste the oils with sterile plastic spoons instead of cubes of bread. We left feeling a little sad for the hard-working industry, but also joyous that we procured a tasty garlic-infused olive oil.

Fun way to start off our trip

Fun way to start off our trip

Back in the car, we continued towards Ein Zivan, passing many cars with symbolic snow mounds on their windshields. This snow became more and more apparent as shaded slopes of the gentle volcanic mountains were partially covered in blankets of white. Reaching one of the junctions before Ein Zivan on Road 91, I got slightly carried away by the snow everywhere and pulled over to admire the sight for a minute or two. Bracha convinced me that there must be even more snow where we were to be staying so we hopped back into the car and brought our long drive to a much-deserved end.

Our tzimmer in Ein Zivan

Our tzimmer in Ein Zivan

We arrived at the tzimmer just after 3pm, greeted by the bountiful snow that was still surprisingly deep and untouched in many places. Our host, Alon, pointed out the broken tree branches all around us and explained that the snowfall was so copious that the trees couldn’t possibly bear the weight and limbs were lost. He unlocked the tzimmer door and we fell in love with the quaint little cabin with its Jacuzzi, gas fireplace and cozy living quarters. Having just finished a long drive – plus the olive oil factory tour – we decided to rest a bit before heading back out.

Atop Mount Bental overlooking the snowy plateau

Atop Mount Bental overlooking the snowy plateau

Rested up, our next location on our itinerary was the nearby Mount Bental, which we imagined would be rather snowy. What we didn’t anticipate were the crowds, as all of Israel loves to frolic in the rare snow whenever it falls. Alas, we found that the crowds were winding down as it was approaching sunset which afforded such stunning views of the snow-dusted land below us painted in the pastel colours of evening. I’ve always loved the Golan, but there’s something extra special and loveable about seeing it white with snow.

Coffee Anan and the famous signpost

Coffee Anan and the famous signpost

Having parked partway up, we reached the summit by foot and to combat the bitter cold, popped into the celebrated and cleverly-named Coffee Anan (a play on words between Kofi Annan, Former Secretary-General of the United Nations and the Hebrew words for “Coffee Cloud”, referencing the mountaintop location of this particular lodge). We ordered a simple coffee and, interestingly enough, Bracha found this experience to be incredibly charming. She had always wanted to get a hot drink at a snowy lodge, and there we were doing just that, 1,165 metres above sea level.

Sunset from Mount Bental's summit

Sunset from Mount Bental’s summit

Back outside, in the crisp cold air, we turned our attention to the mountaintop bunkers and trenches and gingerly made a circuit of what we could. We enjoyed the view of the borderlands, and Syria beyond, and took in the beauty of our surroundings. Certainly, we took many photos and even had volunteers take some pictures of us as well. The sun slowly sank towards the western horizon, leaving an orange band between the clouds, and we began to plan our next course of action.

Dinner from HaBokrim restaurant

Dinner from HaBokrim restaurant

Dinner that night was to be from the nearby HaBokrim restaurant (Hebrew for “cowboys”), located at the foot of Mount Bental in Merom Golan, a kibbutz founded in 1967 after the Six Day War. Due to its popularity, there was a waiting line, and due to governmental pandemic restrictions, there were only takeaway options. We ordered and then left the beautiful wooden lodge-like building to explore the rest of the kibbutz, marveling in its geographical location within a volcanic crater. When our food was ready we picked it up and headed back to our tzimmer in Ein Zivan, still wowed by the beauty of the snowy Golan. The food was delicious – a burger, a pulled beef sandwich, fries and onion rings – and we decided to have a relaxing evening and night to rest up well for the following day’s plans on lofty Mount Hermon.

Sites in the Northwest Negev

In Israel, Negev on May 23, 2021 at 9:40 AM

In the middle of February, just over a month after starting work at Eshed, I had a random Thursday off. Capitalising on the adventure opportunity, I planned a nice trip with Adam to visit the northwest section of the Negev, which can be delightful in winter months – quite unlike the bombed and burnt version it is today following days of Gazan rockets and arson. Our main birding targets were imperial eagles and the various falcon species that can be found there, but we also just wanted to just get out and explore a bit. We set off in the morning, thankfully using my company car – a 2018 Dacia Duster compact crossover SUV – instead of the usual public transportation which would have made the trip nearly impossible. It was a long, uneventful – save occasional downpours – drive down towards peaceful Sderot, which is not only almost bordering Gaza, but also a figurative gateway into the northwest Negev region. Our first destination wasn’t too far away, just about 30 kilometres to the Re’im reservoir.

A crane in the fields

A crane in the fields

We turned off Road 234 onto a long agricultural road which took us into promising fields of sprinklers. Creeping along slowly, we scanned the outlying land from the car windows and found a handful of cranes foraging, as well as some songbirds. There was some more rain, which came down in meagre sprinklings, not enough to sour our trip but enough to keep us busy opening and closing our windows. At last, we arrived at the reservoir, located atop a small hill and providing a view of the surrounding area. Quite bleak, the large lined pool was devoid of any and all plant life, yet birds could be seen both in the water and along the edges. Methodical scanning and photography revealed that there was a single crane, grebes, loads of common ducks such as mallards, shovelers and teals – but also a new species for us, Eurasian wigeon!

Gazing into the bleak Re'im reservoir

Gazing into the bleak Re’im reservoir

Behind us was a small grouping of Bedouin huts, with a wandering herd of ragged-looking sheep and a handful of patrolling black kites getting us needlessly excited. There were none of the exciting raptor species that had been reported earlier in the season, but we stuck it out there until we felt ready to try the next site. Our drive back down garnered us a nice view of goldfinches drinking from tiny puddles in the gravel road. From there we continued on towards the famous Urim powerline area, a stretch of large pylons that host all sorts of exciting raptors.

Observation platform

Observation platform

Sure enough, we reached the impressive rows of pylons, yet there wasn’t really anywhere good to stop, what with the dirt roads all turned to threatening mud. Even a brief attempt to drive offroad failed as the Dacia slowly sank a bit too much into the gooey orange-brown mud. So, not seeing any exciting raptors, we kept driving and found another interesting site to visit – an observation platform just near Tze’alim Junction. This lookout provides a nice view of Nachal HaBesor, and is part of a string of lesser sites along the Besor Scenic Route, which is also a part of the ANZAC Trail.

Little green bee-eater

Little green bee-eater

Enjoying the interesting view of the loess badlands, basically a combination of desert and bushy scrubland, we saw more black kites and even a striking little green bee-eater which posed nicely after I stalked it into the bush. Getting back into the car, we continued along the scenic route, passing the picturesque hanging bridge – which we planned to visit on the way back. Our destination was a trio of reservoirs that I’d heard good things about over the past few years, and we were eager to lay eyes on them.

Nachal HeBesor

Nachal HeBesor

As with all adventures, there is always the element of the unknown, and what was unknown to us at the time was the accessibility of these reservoirs. Surprisingly, we could only really see one of them – the particular one that was set low down, lush with vegetation and Nachal HaBesor running sluggishly through it. But that wasn’t all, even the access was unusual with a grated walkway called the Pipe Bridge spanning the marshy waters instead of a prominent rise at the side from which to scan. So, we stood over the quagmire and tried our damnedest to find interesting – or, perhaps any – birds wherever they may be hiding.

The Pipe Bridge

The Pipe Bridge

It was an interesting place to visit, no doubt, but from a birder aspect it was somewhat a failure. What we did find redeeming was that these reservoirs were built in the 1990’s by Australian friends of KKL-JNF in tribute to the British-made reservoir that was made further downstream during WWI. Facing a lack of fresh water along their frontlines against the Ottoman Empire, the British had also constructed a 235-kilometre long pipeline that brought water from the distant Nile River. Visiting the site now, it is hard to fathom all that – but that’s often the case in Israel where history is living, and the past moves swiftly.

The marshy reservoir

The marshy reservoir

We made an attempt to visit smaller reservoirs further downstream but the gravel road turned into a rock road and eventually became unfriendly to our non-4×4 vehicle, so we turned back. Our next stop was the hanging bridge that we had passed earlier along the scenic route, and this time we got out to have a look-see. I quite enjoy bridges, and this one was one of the more enjoyable ones that I’ve been on as of late. It reminded me of the perilous bridge from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, but thankfully there were no crocodiles lurking in the waters of Nachal HaBesor below.

Crossing the hanging bridge over Nachal HaBesor

Crossing the hanging bridge over Nachal HaBesor

From the rocking bridge we were able to do a bit of birding, which we were thankful for. Loads of swallows, martins and swifts were flying overhead, swooping endlessly as they gorged on the millions of small flying insects that rose unwittingly from the marsh below. In fact, one or more of the swifts were pallid swifts, a new species for the both of us. Likewise, birds could be both heard and seen below us, and we watched one particularly sociable bluethroat dart around the floating dead reeds in search for insects to eat.

Oh imperial eagles, where art thou

Oh imperial eagles, where art thou?

When we finished our exploration of both banks we got back into the car and returned to the pylons near Urim. This time we pulled over in a good spot and gave proper scans of the lofty metal towers, one by one. Sadly, no eagles and no falcons could be seen – yet, in an odd turn of events, when I was looking at my trip pictures back home I happened to notice a raptor-shaped blob on one of the pylons that we somehow missed when we were there. Unfortunately, I don’t have a good enough photo to discern what it is at all so it’ll remain an unidentified blob.

An unidentifiable blob

An unidentifiable blob

It was still a little early in the day and we had already finished exploring all the sites that we had intended to. I checked Google Maps really quickly and entered a new surprise destination for Adam, to help boost our morale after the relative failure vis-à-vis the raptors of the pylons. This destination was the famous Dudaim Landfill, where tens of thousands of black kites winter every year. If that isn’t enough, tens of thousands of starlings also winter there, and both species love to show off their flying skills to all who care to watch. As we got closer to the landfill, Adam began to get more and more excited at the rising numbers of black kites that were becoming visible from the car. A few kilometres away, he implored me to pull over, as there were scores of them perched not too far from the road. I feigned confusion, claiming that I couldn’t find a good place to pull over, and kept driving closer and closer to our destination. Thousands of black kites were visible in the skies; practically everywhere we looked we could see more than we could possibly count.

Black kites swarming over the landfill

Black kites swarming over the landfill

As we were standing beside the parked car, looking up at the soaring multitudes, we heard something hit the car roof with a loud bang. Startled, we looked around and saw a working Arab man standing beside a checkpoint hut laughing. We weren’t quite sure what to make of the situation, and wondered if and why he had pelted us with rubbish, when he pointed up and said that it came from above. That’s when our gaze was cast heavenward and we saw a truly disturbing sight. Chunks of garbage, mostly animal parts, were falling from the sky – dropped by the black kites. Piecing it all together, we watched as a black kite snatched a dangling bit of rubbish and took flight, immediately being chased by a handful of his brethren. An aerial dogfight ensued as the other kites attempted to rob him of his rotting morsel. We watched aghast as the flesh fell from his grip, plummeting to the ground not too far from us.

A discarded fish tail that fell from the sky

A discarded fish tail that fell from the sky

As the grisly bits rained down around us, and a passing garbage truck splashed us with revolting garbage water, we decided that it was time to call it a day. True, this site was fascinating, and arguably the highlight of our adventure, but there was only so much rubbish that one can endure on an ordinary Thursday afternoon. We shook ourselves off the best we could and got back into the car, almost reluctantly leaving this unworldly site as we drove back to the main road, passing absolutely absurd numbers of kites perched literally everywhere for at least a square kilometre or two.

Some black kites perched nearby

Some black kites perched nearby

The drive back was relaxed, although quite naturally we couldn’t stop talking about the ridiculousness of the Dudaim Landfill. Since pictures and words can only do so much justice, I have since taken the liberty of stitching together some of the video clips I took on-site into a rudimentary video that may help one visualise the intensity of the experience. Sadly, I didn’t manage to capture any of the garbage falling from the sky but, at any rate, the video can be found on my YouTube channel HERE.

Let us not forget the starlings

Let us not forget the starlings

Back in Givat Shmuel, I dropped Adam off at his apartment and headed back home where we were to pack for a three day vacation with Bracha to the Golan the following Sunday. Naturally, posts about that adventure will follow this one presently.

Hulda Reservoir

In Central Israel, Israel on May 5, 2021 at 11:22 AM

Returning to the trio of birding hotspots that the frequently-featured Adam and I visited over the wet season, this post focuses on our trip to the Hulda Reservoir this past December. With such astounding success at both Matash Ayalon and Tzora, it didn’t take much to inspire us to plan an adventure – but the frequent tantalising reports we had seen on eBird sure helped. Our visit to the Hulda reservoir began on a Thursday morning, with public transportation taking us there in the tedious way that it does, and depositing us at the proper bus stop just after 8am.

Hulda reservoir

Hulda reservoir

Disembarking across the road from Kibbutz Hulda, founded 1930, we checked our position with Google Maps and started walking down a long dirt road bearing southwest to our targeted reservoir. Presently, we were aware of the birds that both graced the power lines and pylons, as well as those in the fields, often being more heard than seen. Binocular-scanning repeatedly, we confirmed the usual species – and a trio of military helicopters – and kept walking, heading for the reservoir that was dead set ahead.

Green fields outside Hulda

Green fields outside Hulda

As we neared the sun-kissed waters, a flock of northern lapwings took flight – our first “interesting” species of the day. An even greater flock of great cormorants joined the aerial presentations and we found ourselves close enough to examine the reservoir. Whereas many, or even most, reservoirs have distinct man made appearances, this looked like a bonafide small lake, filled with all sorts of obstructing vegetation.

A siege of herons guarding the centre of the reservoir

A siege of herons guarding the centre of the reservoir

A large siege of great white herons seized our attention first, but then the scatterings of ducks caused us to shift focus. After our smashing success with new-to-us duck (and grebe) species, we were hoping to nab some more new ones at this promising hotspot. Sure enough, within minutes we found a few great crested grebes paddling near some more familiar shovelers and mallards.

Record shot of our first great crested grebe

Record shot of our first great crested grebe

This was the cause for some hushed excitement, only to be trumped by the discovery of some very elegant looking tufted ducks – another new species. While the sightings were exciting, unfortunately due the size of the reservoir, coupled with the unfortunate solar alignment of our lookout, it was quite difficult to take pictures. The vast majority of the duck and waterfowl photos served as our best option at identifying the paddling pond-loving birds.

Flock of northern lapwings flying by once again

Flock of northern lapwings flying by once again

A few marsh harriers cruised the reedy waters, looking for a weak and defenceless waterfowl to feed on, but nothing more exciting than that. We took leave of our impromptu lookout and attempted to circumnavigate the reservoir by means of the agricultural trails that crisscrossed the fields. The northern lapwings from before took flight once again as we startled them in one of the fields, and we passed some kestrels and a single black-shouldered kite who largely ignored us. There were reports of a merlin having been spotted on several occasions the days leading up to our visit, so our eyes were as peeled as could be, hoping that we too would spot the tiny falcon.

Sun-kissed cauliflower plants

Sun-kissed cauliflower plants

Our route took us along a great cauliflower field, which bordered the reservoir from the south, and a jackal made a surprise appearance beside the thick undergrowth beside the cruciferous field. Realising that there was no better vantage point thus far, we resigned to attempting a full loop but another surprise was in store. As we worked our way up the western side of the complex, we suddenly spotted a dark bird of prey on the grassy banks of the reservoir. A quick photo or two and there it was, a greater spotted eagle in all of its glory. Mere minutes later this subadult eagle thought it wise to take its glory elsewhere and flapped off posthaste, leaving us in the company of the everpresent marsh harriers.

Greater spotted eagle making a quick getaway

Greater spotted eagle making a quick getaway

While the merlin continued to elude us, more exciting finds were on the horizon. We scanned the waterfowl once again, this time from a greater distance but with better lighting due to our altered orientation. There were no new ducks, but the water looked a truly special shade of blue as it reflected the heavens. We tore ourselves away from the scenic view and continued the full loop that we had almost needlessly done. The trail proved to be quite popular with field-loving birds, with white wagtails, water pipits and crested larks walking up and down the dirt road, much to our enjoyment.

There's a twinkle in his eyes

There’s a twinkle in his eyes

It was then that a small bird flitted into view and perched on a dead thistle at the upcoming fork. Its body was well shaded against the bright background – not a particularly helpful thing – yet I managed to squeeze off five distant record shots which then allowed me to announce something special. We had been looking for ages, and had plenty of close calls with lookalikes, but at last we had actually found a European serin. We were overjoyed, and the excitement of the new waterfowl became eclipsed in our minds. It’s one thing to “chance upon” a new species, but it’s exponentially more rewarding to have looked and looked before finding a target species after so long a wait.

Record shot of the blessed European serin

Record shot of the blessed European serin

With our loop complete and our stomachs rumbling we bid farewell to the wild, overgrown reservoir and began our walk back towards the main road. Having brought some choice sausages from Jerusalem in preparation for this moment, we found a good, safe spot to make a small campfire and gathered up some dead branches. While branch-gathering, Adam found some wild asparagus growing, and we realised that our trip was going to continue a little longer than anticipated.

A final parting look at Hulda's wild reservoir

A final parting look at Hulda’s wild reservoir

Our sausages cooked beautifully over the gentle wood fire and when we had properly doused the coals, we packed up and began the search for asparagus shoots. There was a sizable tract of wooded land dividing the road and the fields and we canvassed it expertly, checking under every tree for asparagus plants. We plucked fresh shoots right and left, gleaning our joyous harvest from this bountiful copse. Needless to say, it was a pleasant surprise to bring home after a day’s outing, and cooked up deliciously with diced garlic and butter.