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.

Continuing on with the saga of the trip to Eilat, my friend Adam Ota and I spent the night in a small house in Kibbutz Ketura after a day of birding adventure. The sun came up over the Arava and we felt the need to sleep in a bit. We had breakfast in the kibbutz dining room, and then packed up our belongs into our rental Audi for another adventurous day.

We drove around Ketura for a bit, taking in all the sights and seeing where Adam used to work after his army service. As fun as it was in Ketura, time was ticking and we had many places to visit that day. Leaving Ketura, our first stop was the adjacent Kibbutz Grofit, built upon a lone hill in the homogenous desert landscape. We drove over to the northern end of the kibbutz and enjoyed the view of Ketura down below.

When we had soaked up all of the glory of the view we got back into the car and drove south on Road 90. We turned into Kibbutz Samar, where we had received insider information from the International Birding and Research Center Eilat (IBRCE) that there were black bush robins to be found.

Locating the overgrown tree patch known locally as “The Jungle”, we set out to find the elusive black birds. It took some searching and some playing of the bird calls from the Collins bird watching app, and eventually we heard a reply.

A black bush robin was calling to us from the groves outside the Jungle, and we set off to get a sighting. Unfortunately we didn’t end up getting any closer to it, and even lost the audio connection, but we did end up seeing some other nice birds. A few wheatears and blackstarts, as well as some warblers and a Tristram’s starling. There was no reason to linger, as the list of place to still be visited remained long. With that we departed, and drove side access roads in the direction of the Elifaz Sewage Ponds.

Most people would raise eyebrows at the idea of visiting a sewage pond, but birders know that oftentimes sewage ponds provide excellent birding. While sewage treatment primarily happens indoors and out-of-sight, there are also what is known as stabilisation pools where a more natural form of water purification occurs. These pools are outdoors and host a healthy plants and insect life, which bring the birds into the picture. Thus, some of the hottest birding sites in Israel year-round are often in and around sewage treatment centres.

The Elifaz Sewage Ponds proved to be relatively empty, with just a few common kestrels keeping us company. Dejected by not discouraged, we got back into our car and drove on to the next destination: Timna Park. I had visited Timna once back in 2017 with my university, but we hadn’t explored the park in its entirety. This time I was returning with wheels and an adventurous friend.

We began with the short film about the site, which was very entertaining, and then we headed into the park along the main access road. Marvelling at Timna’s fascinating colour palette, we passed the first landmark, the Spiral Hill, and then turned right to a spot called The Mushroom, a natural sculpture created by wind erosion.

Timna Park is a horseshoe-shaped valley located in a beautiful, craggy desert landscape, complete with a unique geological makeup that gives it its iconic look. The pink sand, and the cliffs of green- and yellow-hued fuchsia rock, complete the truly bizarre appearance. In ancient times Timna was the site of an aggressive multi-national mining operation, mostly extracting raw copper from the sandstone. Although King Solomon’s name has been tacked onto the site more than once, it was more than just the Israelites that thirsted for the valuable metal. The ancient Egyptians, with the use of Canaanite labourers, hewed giant mines out of the soft rock and even left their mark on the faces of the colourful cliffs.

These copper mines began hundreds of years before the Jews returned from Egyptian bondage, and were actively mined on and off until the 600s CE when the copper ore started running out. Curiously enough, the modern Israeli government attempted to respark the copper mining industry starting in 1958, but that ended in 1985 due to economic reasons. The Timna Copper Mines company website is still running, due to their ventures elsewhere, but the old pictures of the mining are worth a look (see HERE).

As we drove through the valley we spotted a few birds, notably a little green bee-eater and a few brown-necked ravens. Pulling over here and there to photographically capture everything of note, we eventually made it to The Mushroom – a fungus-shaped rock. Parking, we got out and walked towards two archaeological sites beside The Mushroom: a shrine and a smelting camp, dating back to the Egyptian period thousands of years ago. Despite that the ground is mostly a dark shade of pink, every so often there’s a glint of soft green. These are bits of oxidised copper, most often still affixed to broken pieces of pink sandstone. Leaving the smelting valley, we drove on to a place called The Chariots – rock engravings left behind by the ancient Egyptians.

Much to our surprise, it began to rain as we approached the site, and rain is always surprising in the desert. Ten-fifteen minutes later the light drizzle ended and we got out of the car to examine the ancient engravings. The first was a collection of ibexes and ostriches being hunted by boomerang-wielding men. The second set of engravings were the aforementioned chariots, featuring warriors and their battle axes.

Driving back towards the park’s centre, skipping some of the sites that I had already seen last trip, we made our way to Lake Timna. Man-made and nestled between the craggy cliffs, the tiny lake was designed to be a permanent watering-hole for animals and a fun place for humans. To my dismay, this potential paradise seemed to amount to neither of these. There was, however, a station for filling touristy bottles with coloured sand – always an interesting gift to loved ones.

From there we went to Solomon’s Pillars and Hathor’s Temple, basking in the glory of the truly awe-inspiring landscape. In the parking lot, of all places, we watched a few desert birds hop about, including a few desert larks. With that, and the time ticking away, we left Timna Park and headed for the next site on our list, an old water-filled quarry hidden from plain sight.

It took a bit of driving about till we reached the correct access road, but when we pulled up at the quarry and got our first glimpse, we were amazed. The cerulean water contrasting with the red earth/rock made for quite the visual treat. Strong winds buffeted us, threatening to send us and our belongs into the picturesque abyss below. With nothing more to do than appreciate the view, we took some photos and got back into the little white car.

Time truly was ticking, and we had only a few hours before we had to take the car back. Our next stop was also off the beaten path, the birding hotspot of KM 20 – literally the 20th kilometre from the end of Road 90 in Eilat. If time wasn’t the only adversary on that day, an unexpected muddy puddle kept us from reaching KM 20 by means of vehicular transportation. We were forced to walk the last bit, hopelessly muddying our shoes, but knowing that it was all worth it.

Arriving at the large salt pools of KM 20, we were rather pleased to see at least a hundreds birds in front of us. The majority were greater flamingos, with some black-winged stilts and other waders hugging the edges of the pools. Even a mixed flock of northern shoveler and pintail ducks was spotted hunkering down on the far bank. While I engaged in photographic pursuits, Adam scanned for the famous black flamingo and successfully located the melanistic creature on the farther end of the closest pool.

Hurrying back to our car, we made our way to another birding hotspot a kilometre further south – KM 19. More of the bird-friendly sewage ponds, KM 19 didn’t deliver as much as we were hoping for. A flushed marsh harrier, a handful of waders and a bunch of flocks of waterfowl filled the few reed-lined ponds. It was fun scanning the water’s edge to try and find a small wader here and there, adding up the species as we found more and more. Next time, we’d need to revisit this site at a better hour of the day, and during a better time of year.

Alas, this was our last fun stop with the car and we drove back to Eilat feeling pleased with our efforts. We filled up the tank, went shopping and drove to the lodgings that we had booked in advance. With budgeting a priority we went with a relatively inexpensive hotel located in the residential part of Eilat. Our expectations were low, but we were pleasantly surprised with our lot at Rich Luxury Suites.

Zipping over to the car rental we gave back the beloved Audi with a few minutes to spare, and walked back to the hotel to settle in and have dinner. The evening continued into night, we filled our bellies with delicious foods cooked on a disposable grill and got a good night’s sleep.

Early the following morning we gathered up all our belongings and made our way to Eilat’s central bus station for the long ride back to Givat Shmuel. Thus ended our exciting excursion to the southern tip of Israel this past February.