After Anne’s work was done in Lilongwe, we traveled to the nearby Dzalanyama Forest Reserve for a little R&R, and nearly as soon as we arrived, we were greeted by this amazing little red-throated twinspot aka Peters’s twinspot (Hypargos niveoguttatus) methodically foraging on the forest floor near our cabin. I was able to spot it in the same area nearly every day we were there, so it must be finding something.

Similarly, this sharp-looking white-browed robin-chat aka as Heuglin’s robin (Cossypha heuglini) was often foraging in the same area. I had spotted one several times in Lilongwe, but it had evaded my camera, so I was very happy to have another opportunity to make a portrait.

Our cabin was located at the top of a small bluff above a small and picturesque stream, which attracted a lot of birds, including this shy black-backed puffback (Dryoscopus cubla),

and this surprisingly bold mountain wagtail aka long-tailed wagtail or grey-backed wagtail,(Motacilla clara), which was the only bird I believe I ever saw actually at the water.

The stream, of course, was a great source for all manner of flying insects, and so we were treated to two different flycatchers. This first one is a grey tit-flycatcher (Fraseria plumbeus)

known for flicking and fanning its tail.

The second one is a similar-looking ashy flycatcher (Fraseria caerulescens)

who sang me the faintest little song instead.

Anne and I are now back in Delft for a bicycle conference, and my presentation is this afternoon, so I’ve gotta run, but I’ll have more pictures for you tomorrow from deeper into the amazing Dzalanyama Forest Preserve.

As amazing as it was to see the masked weaver I showed you yesterday, it wasn’t the only weaver to visit the guesthouse backyard in Lilongwe. I also spotted a Holub’s golden weaver (Ploceus xanthops), aka African golden weaver a couple of times, …

and this super shy spectacled weaver (Ploceus ocularis) just once and for only a moment.

Another shy visitor was this tropical boubou or bell shrike (Laniarius major) that I also only saw once.

In contrast, these gray-headed sparrows were quite common. I can’t quite be sure if they were northern (Passer griseus) or southern (Passer diffusus), and their ranges overlap in Malawi. Here’s one crowding a hoopoe.

Speaking of hoopoes, and while we’re still at the guesthouse backyard, here’s one more look at one.

And here’s another look at a pied crow who stopped in for a moment.

If you ever doubted that American robins were thrushes, here’s the missing link that should convince you. This Kurrichane thrush (Turdus libonyana) as a red breast almost like a robin, and “with a broad black moustache” like many thrushes, such as the hermit thrush we see in Estabrook Park.

I spotted this next bird on the morning we left the guesthouse, and it led me on quite a goose-chase in those bushes before I could get a decent picture. Once I had a good look, though, I could hardly believe my eyes. Say hello to a boisterous little black-throated wattle-eye (Platysteira peltata)

Here’s another look at that bright red wattle above its eye.

Finally, here’s a stunning scarlet-chested sunbird (Chalcomitra senegalensis) in the early morning light, who I am sure stopped in just for a second to wish us safe travels.

Anne and I finally do have good connectivity, so I can now start to show you some of the sights we’ve seen over the past 10 days. Our first stop was Lilongwe, in central Malawi, where I hung out in the backyard of the guest house in which we were staying while Anne traveled to a nearby sight to kick off her research project.

This first handsome character is a common bulbul (Pycnonotus barbatus) who stayed with me for most of the day and seemed to be fond of singing.

This next dashing bird, a fork-tailed drongo (Dicrurus adsimilis), visited nearly as much as the bulbul, and would often swoop down to the lawn below to fetch a small worm and bring it back to the wire to eat it.

Meanwhile, down on the lawn, a pair of Eurasian hoopoes (Upupa epops) would vigorously march around and stuff that long beak into cracks in the baked-dry soil to probe for their meals.

Once in a while, one of them would find something exciting enough to make its head feathers stand on end as it ran over to show or deliver what it had found to the other.

As often seems to be the case, the larger birds are much shyer than their little cousins, and there was a pair of Schalow’s turacos (Tauraco schalowi), of which this is one, who would make a huge racket in a tall tree at the edge of the yard right up until I tried catching a glimpse of them. Then they would quiet right down, try to hide in the foliage, or just flee the scene altogether. I was thrilled to get at least this image to show you.

I only saw this visitor, a laughing dove (Spilopelia senegalensis), once or twice so I was also thrilled to capture an image of it, especially in some nice sunlight to show off the subtle colors in its feathers.

One big surprise, not just in Lilongwe but also in the rest of Africa we visited, was the ubiquity of pied crows (Corvus albus). In the late afternoon, I could often estimate crowds of a couple dozen birds playing in the wind high in the air. If you look closely at that beak, you might be thinking “raven”, and you wouldn’t be far off because the Pedia of Wik reports that “structurally, the pied crow is better thought of as a small crow-sized raven, … and it may be a modern link (along with the Somali crow) between the Eurasian crows and the common raven.”

Another resident of the backyard, and I bird I could often hear, if not necessarily see, was this southern masked weaver (Ploceus velatus). His song sure was distinctive, if not necessarily entirely melodic.

Lastly, for the bandwidth I have today, here’s a little blue waxbill (Uraeginthus angolensis) aka southern cordon-bleu down on the lawn with the hoopoes, doves, and occasional drongos.

I hope there isn’t a travel Day 11, but just in case, here’s my second favorite coyote encounter from back on January 28, 2022.

I still can’t see this pictures without imagining this dialog between them. “Who’s that, Dear?” “Oh, just some dude I met, Darling. He seems harmless enough.” “Well, so long has he’s respectful and keeps his distance, I suppose it’s okay, but you make the weirdest friends.” “It’s my natural animal magnetism. I can’t help it.” “Sure. You just keep telling yourself that. Meanwhile, where’s my breakfast?” “Okay, okay. I’ll get back to work. Now where did I see that rabbit?”

From the largest rodent to one of the smallest birds, here’s a winter wren trying to enjoy its frozen breakfast and then giving me a piece of its mind for butting in.

Let’s see if I can schedule this one correctly this time.

In any case, I sometimes have better luck getting picture of beaver in the winter than in summer, and here’s one example:

Hoodies are the only mergansers we see, and when the river starts freezing up, we can hope to catch some glimpses of common mergansers, such as this drake with four hens.

Once the ice forms on the river,

you might be surprised to see this year-round resident as well, but here’s a female belted kingfisher picture from the same day as the ice picture above.

Here’s a sight I don’t get to see everyday, even though they are year-round residents, a great blue heron in the snow.

Here an interesting one, if you haven’t seen it before, an American black duck, a drake by the looks of that yellow bill, hiding amongst the mallards.