Rearranging Habitats

I had a thoroughly refreshing and rejuvenating trip to Siwa in April. And it was not just me that was refreshed and rejuvenated. The oasis itself is, certainly compared to other tourist destinations in Egypt, booming. The potential cruise boat clientele may be staying away from the Nile in droves but the more adventurous desert travelers are still visiting. Siwa was doing well and unlike so many places in Egypt a pleasure to walk around unaccosted by aggressive touts. As a result I spent a lot more money and perhaps there is a message there for said touts. Perhaps I should have consulted with the Siwan oracle for what may happen in the forthcoming presidential elections but I did not do so. There were too many distractions, both historical and natural. The prime historical diversion was the Tomb of Si-Mun on the tomb-riddled hill known as the Mountain of the Dead. While most of the tombs on this exposed limestone massif are very simple and per functionary, the Tomb of Si-Mun is substantial and beautifully decorated. It is late, dating from around 200 BC but to my amateur eye the painting of the friezes is exquisite, painted with a fine eye and a finer line. The falcon as a hieroglyph and as a representation of Horus stood out, and that was so very appropriate. Outside, the modern incarnation of Horus in the form of a wild falcon was in full voice. Cavorting over the massif and calling vociferously was a male Kestrel soon to be joined, as his exact intention would have been, by a female. The raptorish and rapturous vocals also echoed outside the Oracle and from above the center of old Shali. There is every indication, visual and aural, that the Kestrels are breeding. And that would be the first near-certain evidence for this species breeding in the oasis. The records are all in my journal as is that of a Moorhen. Another potential range expansion is that of the Pied Kingfisher. This species will be familiar to anyone with the most casual interest in birds from Aswan to Alexandria including central Cairo. It is the bulky, dagger-billed bird decked out in black and white that hovers and then plunge-dives all along the Nile. But its range has been widening and it is now common in Fayoum and seemingly now established in Siwa. Quite how a bird so inextricably linked to water can cross the hundreds of miles of waterless desert to get to the next oasis is a mystery. But it has. Indeed they have. With the Pied Kingfisher — as with much (but not all) of the natural world — it takes two to tango, if tango can be used as a euphemism for reproduction and colonization. A great big, loudly black and white bird ostentatiously plunging into the water from a great height is always going to command attention. But not so for a far more diminutive and enigmatic member of Siwa’s fauna. This is the Grass Blue, scientific name Zizina otis, and I give the scientific name as the English names for insect species can sometimes be misleading. The Grass Blue is a small butterfly with a wingspan of under 2 centimeter and of a singularly dowdy appearance. Adults are a dull purple-brown above, a little bluer in the male, and pale, speckled black below. Small and dingy, it is not going to make the heart flutter. And yet it is utterly enigmatic. It enjoys a range throughout the islands of the Indo-Pacific and across Southeast Asia west to India and Pakistan. And there it stops, found nowhere further west except in Siwa — the only place in Egypt and in fact the only place in Africa this butterfly has ever been recorded. The last records of this species date from 1935, and Torben B. Larsen, author of The Butterflies of Egypt (1990), surmises that the species was introduced accidentally with agricultural produce from the Subcontinent. I have never found it in Siwa in a number of visits, but I should add that this is not an easy species to identify. The very similar Dark Grass Blue (Zizeeria karsandra) is also found in Siwa, where it is abundant. The main point of difference is a black spot on the underside of the wing, which the Dark Grass Blue possesses but of which the Grass Blue is bereft. And then there are the genitals; they too differ. As I spent a morning stomping the palm groves of Siwa, it crossed my mind that if I were stopped and questioned, would I really use ‘the need to examine butterfly genitalia’ as an alibi? I think not. The butterfly I did record this last trip was the Painted Lady, a migratory species boldly patterned in browns and oranges and creams. The future of Egypt’s butterflies, indeed for any of the native fauna, along the North Coast between Marsa Matrouh and Alexandria is however grim. Three butterfly species or subspecies — and this time native, not introduced — may be extinct already. Again, forgive the scientific names. The western race of Stauder’s Skipper (Carcharodus stauderi), a small species checkered in brown and cream, has not been recorded since 1904. The Verdigris Hairstreak (Tomares ballus) was last noted in 1919; it should not have gone unnoticed as it has uniquely green underwings. Finally, the False Baton Blue (Pseudophilotes abencerragus), a gray-brown butterfly with distinctly black and white checkered wing margins, was last seen in 1920, although a different race may still occur in northern Sinai. Carnage. Driving along the North Coast to Matrouh, it is easy to see the threats to these and so many other North Coast species. Tourist village after tourist village has resulted in the bulldozing of natural habitat on an industrial scale. Al Karma, Hacienda Bay, Marassi, Porto Marina (note the Porto chain from my July 2011 column) et al have all ensured the destruction of this precious coast, a coast with a unique and irreplaceable ecosystem. From the beach to a very few kilometers inland, this narrow coastal strip enjoys a climate cooler and wetter than that found even a little inland. That has now largely disappeared. And it is not just a few frankly rather dowdy butterflies. Just after Marsa Matrouh is the turn off to Siwa and the last place in Egypt where the highly secretive and enigmatic Dupont’s Lark had been recorded. That is now deluged in a man-made tsunami of plastic and garbage. The Dupont’s Lark is probably extinct in Egypt now. In all probability so too is the Barbary Partridge, similarly a victim of habitat destruction but also of hunting. And if you need your wildlife more substantial and tear-jerkingly cute then spare a thought for the Four-toed Jerboa, a flamboyantly tailed, huge-eyed and long-eared desert rodent whose entire global range consists of the coastal desert of Libya and Egypt. What price environmental protection at the moment in Libya? But there were plus signs. I stopped off at some of the war memorials on my return to Cairo, and the Italian area especially was rich in migrating birds. There were Nightingales on the lawns, a species famed for its voice but sadly mute on migration. There was a magnificent male Rufous-tailed Rock Thrush in pale blue, orange-rufous and white, as well as a Woodchat Shrike resplendent in black and white with his rich chestnut cap and nape. And in the serenely peaceful cemetery of the British and Commonwealth forces was a handsome male Ruppell’s Warbler with black throat and striking white moustache, along with a discreet and incredibly cryptic Wryneck, an improbable relative of the woodpeckers. All will be heading north to European breeding grounds, and all will be going there with my thoughts, prayers and my sincere hope that there will be habitat left for them on their return journey this coming Fall.