Following the resounding success of day one, my birding adventure to Eilat and the Arava resumed early in the morning at the Melio Hotel. I packed up my belongings, checked out and headed over to the crown jewel of Eilat birding, the International Birding and Research Center of Eilat. I had written about the site when I first visited back in early 2019 accompanied by my friend Adam Ota (see HERE), and I was eager to return.

The first few minutes were exciting, with Noam Weiss (the director) spotting a crested honey buzzard circling over the Jordanian border. Then things got a little slower, and none of the targeted species seemed to be around. I explored the newer sections of the park, and saw a few nice birds, but nothing to really write home about.

Slightly dejected, I decided not to waste too much time and headed for the next hotspot – a few football (formerly soccer) pitches not far away. I was hoping to find a pair of lesser white-fronted geese, which were would-be lifers, who were hanging around in the grass with some local Egyptian geese. Much to my added dismay, that morning happened to be when there was maintenance work being done on the fields and no geese were to be found.

Slumping about, I made an accidental turn and found myself in a scrappy bit of land that was being used to discard construction material. To my delight, there was a little wagtail with a nice yellow head darting about in the rubble – a citrine wagtail, another expected lifer. My spirits soared as I watched the graceful bird, and then resumed my tour of the fields, finding a handful of grazing water and red-throated pipits

Driving around the area between the canal and the salt ponds, I spotted an osprey being mobbed by some Indian house crows. Thankfully I was able to pull over to take some pictures as it perched for a minute on a street light. To date, that was my closest encounter with an osprey, and my best picture as well.

When I was done exploring that area, I drove over to Omer’s sandwich restaurant to pick up a nice schnitzel baguette for lunch, to be eaten at the shorebird lookout at KM 20’s salt ponds. I sat in the car and watched the scores of flamingos, waders, ducks and terns that congregated at the famous site. There was nothing of particular interest to me there, but it was nice to revisit a familiar site. So, when I was done with my lunch, I made my way to Kibbutz Samar where another special bird or two were to be expected.

Back in 2019, Adam and I attempted to find one of the local black scrub robins that lives in the kibbutz, but with no success at all. We had zeroed in on their famous haunt, the kibbutz “jungle” but nothing remotely black, scrubby or robin-like was to be found that day. I was determined to search again, this time armed with a few additional tips from fellow birders.

Finding myself back at the so-called jungle, a small copse of trees and shrubs with a shaded clearing inside, I begin with a search of the perimeter. I was distracted by other birds fluttering about here and there, including Spanish sparrows, a redstart and some blackstarts. Suddenly, I saw a large bird of prey soaring against the mountain backdrop to the east, and I recalled the reports of an adult imperial eagle wintering in the vicinity of Samar. I snapped off a couple of photos and confirmed that it was, indeed, the imperial eagle that I had hoped to see. Despite birding on and off for nearly ten years, I hadn’t much luck with imperial eagles (and Adam neither). All of my sightings were of individuals either black specks streaming across the sky in active migration or dark lumps perched on distant power pylons.

This beautiful specimen was soaring gracefully through the clear desert air, gliding its way towards me. When the eagle finally disappeared, I refocused my attention on the elusive black scrub robins and continued my perimeter scan. There was a brief moment where something that looked like the tail of one, distinct in size and markings, popped into a bush beside me – but it was far too quick to process properly. I looped around and then entered the “jungle”, ready to be pleasantly surprised. Not quite what I was hoping for, there was a man napping on a mattress inside the cave-like clearing, probably scaring off all the birds.

I made another loop of the copse and, when I re-entered, the man was gone. In his place was a black scrub robin, hiding behind a plastic chair. I froze, and slowly reached for my camera. The scrub robin took a hesitant hop towards me, and then disappeared behind the mattress. I gasped, and sidestepped, readying my camera for the moment when the bird would reappear. The drama was quite unnecessary because, once I relaxed, the black scrub robin bounced around happily, appearing, disappearing and reappearing again on the mangrove-like branches.

I was elated, this was yet another lifer – and a hard-earned one, at that. With that positive energy coursing through my veins, I decided it was time to have another go at the challenging birding at Nachal Hemda (KM 94). Driving back up Road 90, I pulled over at exactly the same spot as the day prior, and got out with determination and optimism. I scanned the scrubby streambed for that desirous black dot, and with that failing, I focused on other potential sightings.

A dorcas gazelle surprised me as I began to traverse the streambed, netting a semi-decent shot of the timid antelope. This visit, I changed tactics and walked up until KM 95 before looping around and following the streambed to the west. There wasn’t much to see at KM 95, but walking back down on the western side of the road, I suddenly felt things come into play. I could see what appeared to be a black dot back down towards the KM 94 marker, but about 100 metres to the west.

It was an eager and fast hike as I homed in on what I hoped was the rare basalt wheatear. If that wasn’t enough, a greater hoopoe-lark appeared out of nowhere in front of me, pacing along the pebble-covered land. I was torn and excited and took pictures with one eye cast towards the basalt wheatear. The greater hoopoe-lark was a lifer, and considered to be a “sensitive species” on eBird, so that there are no public sightings on the platform.

The hoopoe-lark zipped off and I resumed my hike, tracking down the basalt wheatear. Unfortunately, as I got closer, it got further and eventually I had to give up. I didn’t watch to harass the poor bird, being rare and all, and the sun was beginning to set. I still had quite the drive to get back home, and a short hike to get back to the car parked on the other side of the highway.

As I was getting to the car, I noticed a few dorcas gazelles on an arid strip of land to the west. I noticed quite symbolically that there was a mother and child present in the small herd. They looked out at me as I took their picture, perhaps representing my own wife and child who were figuratively looking out at me, expectant of my return that evening. With that happy thought, I revved up the dependable 1.8L VTEC engine and launched myself up onto the long black stretch of asphalt, heading nowhere but home.

Turning back the clock to October 7th of last year, the world as we know it took a tragic and heinous detour. I shan’t dwell on the much-discussed events of that terrible day, but the very next day I was called up for emergency military reserve duty – myself and hundreds of thousands of reserve soldiers like me. I spent the following two months or so in a few sections of the country, bouncing back and forth from my home base near Afula to my first station in Be’er Sheva, and my second station at the nearby Tel HaShomer base complex. Alas, during my service, I was minorly injured with a bulging disc in my lower back and was subsequently released from duty. I spent two weeks recuperating, and then returned to my job – certainly an easier transition from military to civilian life than many others have.

It was while I was stationed down south that I had a strong urge to have a vacation, to escape for a spell and ideally overseas. That didn’t pan out, but, knowing that I could use a breather, Bracha came up with an attractive alternative. There had been an influx of several interesting bird species further down south, mostly in the Arava and Eilat areas. This would be the perfect opportunity to combine a breath of fresh air with some twitching and quality birding, something that has been hard to come by in the last year or two. In birding nomenclature, the term “twitching” is used to describe one’s pursuit of specific, generally rare, bird species.

Once the dates were set, I began to do my research – this involved scouring eBird’s checklists and hotspots, reading up on fellow birders’ reports on social media and keeping close tabs on the location updates of some high value targets. I mapped out a series of sites that I could visit over a two day period, optioning in alternate travel plans that would be determined or tweaked in real time. I had a flexible itinerary and a few side missions to attend to in Eilat, including picking up a new laptop that I was ordering (may my trusty old one rest in peace).

With the preamble finished, the adventure began in the wee hours of the morning (approximately 2:45 AM) with a 300-kilometre drive down south to the Uvda Valley, my first destination hotspot. The drive was enjoyable, inky black as I entered the desert regions, and bitterly cold. First light was just cracking through as I turned into the Uvda Valley, and I pulled over on the side of the quiet desert road. The cold penetrated through my layers of clothing as I waited patiently for the light to strengthen. I could make out a few Asiatic wild asses not far off, my very first sighting of this horse species, as well as a few dorcas gazelles. At last, with adequate lighting and stiff fingers, I was able to scan my surroundings and photograph freely.

I took some photos of several species of wheatears, some of them being “lifers” – the term used by birders to indicate the first time seeing a specific species of bird. Wandering about and admiring the crisp desert scenery, I was joined by a handful of other birders who similarly wandered about alongside the road. As I looped back around towards where I had parked the car, I saw an irregular wheatear fly by and noticed that the other birders had taken a keen interest in it. Sure enough, it was a rare pied wheatear – one of the four highly sought-after rarities to grace the region over the winter months.

Having chatted a bit with my fellow bird enthusiasts, I took off again to roam about and find more target species. I walked along Nachal Hayyun’s dry streambed and kept my eyes peeled for more interesting species – not only birds. Unfortunately, despite being a hotspot for Arabian wolves, I didn’t merit in seeing any that day. I did, however, see a number of other lifers, which filled me with a deep feeling of joy. As I was watching a few hooded wheatears flutter about with some of their taxonomic relatives, I suddenly noticed a small flock of small brown birds feeding in a swath of grass to my left.

I was seized with excitement as I documented yet another lifer that morning, this time the beautiful, if demure, Temminck’s lark. Hoping to get a better angle, where the morning sun would not backlight the birds, I made a wide circle and then they all flew away. I was saddened, this too is true, but happy that I happened to notice them in the first place. Another high-profile rarity that had been spotted earlier in the month along the streambed was the Menetries’s warbler, but I was unable to find it no matter how hard I tried.

Not wanting to leave this vibrant valley paradise, but knowing that there was much more to be seen, I urged myself back into the car and headed for Road 90. I was headed for another birding hotspot, the roadside streambed of Nachal Hemda, known as KM 94 – being at the 94th kilometre marker from the start/end of the road at Eilat. Since it wasn’t the weekend, and the site being an active IDF firing zone, my birding activity was limited to the vicinity of the paved highway.

I pulled over near the kilometre marker and parked on the hard, dry soil, spotting a single dorcas gazelle which had the indecency of dashing off before I could get a decent photo. Scanning the streambed’s low shrubbery, I was predominantly in search of one prominent species – the globally rare basalt wheatear. While currently floating between the status of species or subspecies, the basalt wheatear is both very rare and very cryptic. The main population is believed to live in the basalt desert of northern Jordan, with individuals making their way down to the Arava every couple of years.

Overall, wheatears are relatively easy birds to spot – they perch conspicuously on rocks or bushes and generally stick to the same area for enough time to get acquainted. Basalt wheatears in the Arava are even easier, their jet black plumage easily noticed in the drab, yellow-brown environs. However, no matter where I looked, there was no tell-tale black dot to be seen – in fact, there were hardly any birds at all. My morale dipped a bit as I failed to find other target species, and the hot desert sun was making my birding a bit uncomfortable. I wasn’t entirely disappointed because there was a small flock of spotted sandgrouse and yet another lifer, desert wheatears, so who was I to complain. I gathered up my hopes and dreams and headed back to the car, ready to try another of my pre-planned hotspots.

I drove back down Road 90 until I reached Nachal Ketura where I pulled over and parked along the highway. This time, I was in a construction site of sorts, but I had to leave the car and focus on the mission at hand. I needed to find my next target lifer, the rare Menetries’s warbler, which I had failed to find earlier that morning at Uvda Valley. Thankfully, throughout the trip I was able to receive tips and updates from fellow birders, some going so far as to telling me exactly where to look. I hiked a short distance to the dry streambed, dotted with shrubs and acacia trees, and began my searches.

In stark contrast to Nachal Hemda and its overall lack of avian fauna, Nachal Ketura was brimming with bird life. Rock martins and little green bee-eaters dipped to and fro overhead while blackstarts and bluethroats flitted anxiously in the bushes. I stalked around the small trees, one hand clutching my binoculars and one grasping my ever-ready camera, waiting for a warbler to come into view. It was the calls that gave it away, sounds that I had listened to in preparation for this important moment. I zeroed in on a small grouping of small trees and stood stock still, waiting for the grand reveal. My patience paid off and a graceful warbler fluttered into view. It dropped down to the ground and strutted about, looking like a Sardinian warbler but acting like a bluethroat. I watched it hungrily with my binoculars, looking for all of the right identification marks to confirm its ID, and thus, my photo op was missed. It was the only rare lifer of my trip that I failed to get a photo of.

Excited that my excursion was off to such a great start, I decided that it was time to cool down in celebration with a short stop at the renowned Yotvata visitor centre. Yotvata is famous for their milk and dairy production and the visitor centre boasts sweet dairy treats from chocolate milk to ice cream. I helped myself to a milkshake, a delicious beverage which is sorely missing in my day-to-day life, and had a look around the touristic complex.

It was finally time to head down to Eilat where even more potential lifers awaited, one patiently bobbing about in a small lagoon just off North Beach. This was the rarest of the rare birds that winter, a first for Israel and an overall humdinger of a sighting. I speak of the Pacific diver, a bird that predominantly lives in the northern Pacific, and of which one has made its way all the way to Eilat. Another easy tick for most twitchers, the diver spent a month or two in the lagoon area, swimming about leisurely and snacking on the small fish that it caught.

Sure enough, it was an easy target and I found the Pacific diver bobbing sleepily in the gentle current, the late afternoon sun gleaming through its half-closed eyelids. There was a great feeling of ecstasy as I watched the graceful bird paddle its way around the little lagoon, the bustling resort town setting providing near comedic subtext.

I wondered how many people around me, and surely all those looking out the hotel windows nearby, had any idea that this bird made its way all the way from Alaska, or some equally remote region of the north Pacific. How many of them knew that this was the very first of its species to have been spotted here in Israel. Surely some people noticed the attention it was getting, and I later saw a short clip that was filmed for national TV (and this delightful video on YouTube).

I walked on over to North Beach, just a few minutes away, and looked for some interesting birds and mammalian species. I saw some terns, gulls and some commercial airplanes, but nothing truly captivated my attention – certainly no Houthi cruise missiles. With the sun slowly setting, I made my way back to the car and turned my focus to the other aspects of my trip. I picked up my new laptop, which was a great purchase, and then off for some dinner, light shopping and an early night’s sleep. My initial dinner plans hadn’t been researched well enough, so I ended up just having a nice falafel around the corner from the Melio Hotel, an inexpensive hotel which served my needs perfectly. After an action-packed day, with over 18,000 steps recorded by my smartwatch, a nice warm shower and a good night’s sleep was the perfect ending.