I think human beings must have faith or must look for faith,
otherwise our life is empty, empty.
To live and not to know why the cranes fly,
why children are born, why there are stars in the sky.
You must know why you are alive, or else everything is nonsense, just blowing in the wind.
Anton Chekhov
Early the next morning we headed out to Negele. This was a gut-wrenching, soul-thumping trip of 284 km over muddy tracks, mountain passes, switchbacks, forests, desert plains and too many potholes to remember. On the other hand, the road from Goba across the Sanetti Plateau and down through the Harenna Forest to the southern plains surely constitutes one of the most memorable journeys in Africa. Within hours one passes through beautiful mountain vistas and alpine moorland before plummeting down steep mountain gorges and 35 km of enclosed forest corridors. Eventually, after dropping nearly 3000m in altitude, one emerges into the thorny, desert-like lowlands of southern Ethiopia.
The plan was to cross the Sanneti Plateau at speed (which was a very relative term considering the condition of our vehicle) in order to have more time to bird the Harenna Forest on the southern slopes of the Bale Mountains. But then we stopped in utter awe. Near a small lake on the central plateau a pair of Wattled Cranes were majestically prancing. Together they performed a beautiful choreographed ballet. Gracefully the pair twirled and jumped with flapping wings, sometimes bobbing their heads and bowing to one another in dignified courtship. Stepping out in synchronised poise they executed elegant pirouettes to the silent notes of twirling mist. There was something about these dancing Wattled Cranes that touched an inexpressible chord deep within my inner self. Critically endangered, with the red light of extinction flashing, these cranes still dance. Dancing in the very face of death. And still they love and mate for life. They are a symbol. They symbolise hope. A future.
Leaving the highlands behind, we descended into the upper reaches of the Harenna Forest via a series of switchbacks. A worrying knock in one of the wheels made us pull off the road amongst contorted and gnarled St John’s-wort trees. While admiring their beautiful yellow flowers we found an Abyssinian Ground Thrush and African Spotted Creeper. Further into the forest, past the village of Rira, we birded a roadside stream and soon identified Abyssinian White-eye, Red-collared Widowbird (laticauda), Shelley’s Starling, White-crested Helmetshrike, Northern Red-billed Hornbill, Red-faced Crombec, Red-and-yellow Barbet, Von der Decken's Hornbill and Eastern Yellow-billed Hornbill.
We descended further down the highlands to the baking lowlands of southern Ethiopia. Much of this region was covered in camel-dotted thorny plains, with patches of juniper in the higher hills. Lunch, and stunning coffee made in the traditional manner over an open fire, was enjoyed at Dolo Mena. Our driver, Solomon, sorted the alarming knock in one of the wheels at a local workshop.
Near the Genale River, at a cutting overlooking a small gully, we stopped to look at Greater Blue-eared Starlings. As so often happens, when one finds one bird, others seem to appear out of nowhere. In short order we ticked Black-billed Wood-hoopoe, Northern White-crowned Shrike (White-rumped Shrike) and Orange-breasted Bushshrike.
A green and red flash in a nearby juniper alerted us to the presence of a turaco. A few minutes of frantic searching followed before our binos focused on a striking moss-green bird with a bizarre blonde and white hairdo - the extraordinary Prince Ruspoli’s Turaco. This splendid creature, endemic to southern Ethiopia, has a strange and poignant history.
Prince Ruspoli was a 19th century Italian aristocrat, explorer and naturalist. Inspired by the Polish Count Frackenstein to explore Africa, he mounted his first expedition to Ethiopia and Somalia in 1891. During these travels he discovered four new bird species. His second expedition took place from 1892 to 1893. Ruspoli and his indigenous companions collected natural science specimens and also massacred locals and robbed villages. Ruspoli died, aged 27, unmarried and without heirs, on 4 December 1893 while hunting near Burgi, in Somalia. He fired at an elephant, which took exception to this type of conduct, grasped him in its trunk, swung him about in the air and then trampled him to death. When Ruspoli’s belongings arrived back in Italy it contained a skin of what was clearly a new species of turaco. But because Ruspoli had neglected to label the skin with the location where it had been shot, it was impossible to tell where in the Horn of Africa it was found.
Posthumously named Prince Ruspoli’s Turaco in 1896 – this turaco remained a mystery for another 50 years. Then, in the 1940s, it was rediscovered by an English naturalist in an area of bushy woodland near Negele. Initially declared an endangered species, it is currently listed as vulnerable in the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species. Prince Ruspoli’s Turaco was a great tick. Luckily, we dipped on the elephants…