The great cat of Spain

I had heard there would be amazing water birds at Doñana national park. As you've gathered, I'm a bit of a bird nurd, but even somebody who wasn't might thrill at the prospect of flocks of pink flamingos.

But with wildlife tourism one must always hold anticipation in check, as birds and animals don't appear to order and disappointment is frequent.

First we visited the el Acebuche reserve but there were no water birds at all as the marsh had dried up.  

However, we were excited to find that Acebuche was a captive breeding centre for the famous endangered Iberian lynxes.

These creatures are so well camouflaged with their spotted pelts that we were unable to see the one in the enclosure. Even with the help of a professional naturalist and a telescope trained on the creature, it took several minutes of us going '¿donde?' and her going '¡alli!'

Finally, a patch of dappled sunlight resolved itself into a sleepy great cat.

'There she is!'

So if it was that difficult to see the lynx  - the large iconic animal of the area, just how difficult was I going to find it track down flamingos tomorrow?

My Family and Other Animals

Pascoe was home for the weekend. Although we’ve had holidays together, it’s the first time he’s been home this year.

It was time to become Mumzilla.

I put out a three-line whip.  For one Saturday, we would ALL do something together. 

But what?

Lately I’ve felt nostalgia for Whipsnade Zoo.

But it was risky – the forecast was cold and rainy.

More than that – nostalgia can backfire - it’s not always wise to go somewhere you have fond memories of.

We went.

Sure enough some old friends were missing.

Where were the white wallabies?  Where Horatio Hornbill?

Until we went back, we had been able to imagine Horatio still perkily offering gift-twigs to visitors.  But now…

We had to rescue the day, and fast.

We rushed to lay down some new memories.

I will always remember sleek lionesses playing with giant bags of rustling paper and catnip only feet from us, like lethal kittens.

And the warmth of the butterfly house where dazzling blue morphos alit delicately on our shoulders.

Only the dusk persuaded us to go home.

We had planned to go out to a fireworks display, but there was something we had forgotten.

The perfect end to a tiring day at breezy Whipsnade is to snuggle down by the fire. 

And that’s what we did.

Nigel lays an egg: flamingos outraged!

Three-line Whip