Copy Cow Garden Birding for an Ark-i-type of Naturalist


A wildlife tour group, as here, is escorted by an armed ranger to protect them from wild cattle (i.e. African Buffalo) into the deep and shady evergreen forest of Arusha National Park in northern Tanzania. Here we may observe not only leaf-chewing Colobus Monkeys and Gentle Monkeys, up close and highly personable too, but also a great variety of afrotropical forest birds and some magnificent butterflies.


We can’t go birding in the National Parks and protected areas as often as we would wish. So we must bring Nature to our doorstep. To garden effectively for wildlife I have found, since 1983 when I started “Conservation Gardening” back in England, that one has to throw out a lot of ecological preconceptions. The first and most important lesson is understanding that most ecosystems need some serious cyclical disturbance in order to be more fully productive. Here you can see some recent, pre-rains, disturbance outside our front steps. It’s not everybody’s ‘cup of tea’ but certainly hooches with wildlife.  In many ecoregions ideally you’ll need some kind of cattle. But in the absence of unmedicated cows one has to improvise. Obviously we’re not having anything to do with biocides such as avermectin or diclofenac et al. which may render cattle dung extremely toxic to most fly and beetle species. Cows are the single most important mammalian bridge to healthy diversity. For thousands of years they have been a link between our “ersatz ecosystems” of organic farming, gardening and the former “wild wood”. Without room for cattle we import their “waste products” from a nearby farm and attempt to replicate their trampling, wallowing and browsing just as if they were here – walking daily through “our garden”. It’s not an easy task, but it is much better to be a Copy Cow than there be no cattle action whatsoever in the garden.


Alien plants are tolerated to a degree if they support a significant number of animal species. However in the case of Lantana camara such tolerance requires extreme vigilance, and daily intervention, as this species can grow at nearly a centimetre a day in the warm wet season of November-February.


Indigenous cereal seed is scattered at certain times of the year to attract granivorous birds, such as doves and weavers,  who in return gently fertilise the woodland floor, after their morning feeding period, particularly below their favoured perches in the canopy.

biodiversity, Mount Meru, wildlife gardening, wildlife safari

The Joy of Nature – in Ark and Garden


African Wood Owl on its way to roost at “Farm 510” below Mount Meru, November 14, 2014. All three leaf species visible are from ‘exotics’, including that dreaded invasive Lantana camara.


Zooming-out: African Wood Owl on its way to roost at “Farm 510” today. All four plant species are ‘exotic’: a Javan Weeping Fig – Ficus benjamina, the American Curse of India – Lantana camara, the Brazilian Paper Flower – Bougainvillea glabra and some dead leaves from an Australian Silky Oak – Grevillea robusta.


Today’s Wood Owl is still visible – look – can you see it? I wouldn’t have, had it not been for the scolding calls of the Arrow-marked Babblers and the tack-tack-tacking of a Tropical Boubou who has a nest with young in the hedge, and the fluttering of Red-eyed Doves who have a nest just a few centimetres back from where this owl is perched.


The Tropical Boubou who is nesting near the owl’s secluded roosting spot. Like all the soft-plumed Malaconotidae (the ‘silver-syrinxed’ bush-shrikes, boubous and gonoleks) this boubou is a fearsome predator. Almost daily I find them dismembering mantids, crickets, even geckos that they’ve skilfully wedged in a forked branch or between twigs.


Another bush-shrike, this Brown-crowned Tchagra was searching for grasshoppers just outside the bedroom window yesterday morning. At present it is parachute song-flighting at the top end of the garden.


On Saturday we were in the local park – Arusha National Park. Well worth the fifteen quid. Here a Nature Tek group is observing Guereza Colobus Monkeys, the “flagship mammal” of this small protected area.


The same tour group last Saturday watching another troupe of Colobus Monkeys this time from a vehicle track which skirts the rim of Ngurdoto Crater, a sanctuary within a sanctuary, yet on the eastern edge of the park above Usa River, a satellite of the fast-growing city of Arusha.


On another tour last week, a visiting ornithologist from Canada watches an African Crowned Eagle, that preys upon primates such as Colobus monkeys, as it displays high over the heath zone and evergreen forest which still clothes Mount Meru’s protected shoulders, those ‘lucky enough’ to be within Arusha National Park.


Mount Meru with Arusha National Park’s Ngurdoto Crater clearly visible in the foreground as seen from a flight to Nairobi on February 16, 2013. One can see that the forest of Arusha National Park still connects the crater with the wilder mountain. But all around the forest and woodlands have been felled, burned and cleared away to make room for more and more tiny-farm folk who just scrape a meagre living for their families from admittedly rich volcanic soils.


Mount Meru from Magongo hill, which is “on the other side”, photographed on November 1, 2014. Annual rainfall here is less than half of that which keeps the forests of Ngurdoto Crater lush and green. The great variety of habitats, within the “diverse rain shed” that surrounds Mount Meru, still present the naturalist with a highly rewarding landscape, even within the hard-pressed “sell-everything” culture of today. Note the flowers of the indigenous Erythrina (coral red) and the exotic Jacaranda for which blue-Arusha was once famous.


The same site on November 22. For the few who may be interested this small, currently rewilding, site support five species of what I call the “social grass warblers” with the crazy names – aka Cisticolas – they are Winding, Rattling, Singing, Red-faced and Siffling!

africa, biodiversity, birding, local-patch

Our Strange Little Garden – Earth


Falteringly I have become a gardener. Although not in any sense a typical gardener. I’ve become a Gardener for Nature. It started, at what was then our family home in Cumbria in northern England, in January 1983. But I now see it as every sensible person’s duty, in this Age of Extinctions, to welcome Nature back into our garden, our immediate outdoor living space. If you are any kind of naturalist, surely it makes sense, because almost certainly that’s where you will be spending most of your time, that is when you are not sitting beside a shining screen.

This short piece is a call to arms, or rather a call to tools. A plea for folk to get ecologically active in their garden wherever they live. For example, I myself am an alien where I live, having existed here in Africa only since 2005. So this is a request that people dig-in, wherever and whenever possible, get with an Ark-ival Rewilding Programme, right there “on your own plot”, no matter where or how small that parcel of ground might be. So please just try it and see!

This is a brief summary of one man’s very limited activities, during seven years in an area of almost one hectare, at an elevation of 1,400 metres on the southern slopes of a dormant volcano in Equatorial East Africa, to create what already has succeeded in becoming a very Strange Little Garden indeed.


It might seem perverse, someone lives within fifty miles of the fabled Ngorongoro, and the star-studded Serengeti, yet feels absolutely compelled to engage in what some might call “extreme wildlife gardening”. Or “adventure gardening” as I now prefer to think of it. Yet that is precisely what I am doing. A more mundane description of the aims of this endeavor might be: Maximising biodiversity per unit area. Yet I prefer above all: Gardening for Nature and for those with courage to feel it, it’s Gaia Gardening. Even here, in East Africa, the original home of the Big Game Safari, urban development is progressing so fast that the need to do something for nature is arguably even greater than it is in the declining nations of the North. As a peep through that hole in the hedge above will attest.

Gardening. Wilfully and manually disturbing an otherwise undisturbed, or unneeded, small piece of ground, in this case of one hectare – is to recreate a plot, a fragment, a shard, sliver, wedge or scrap of undeniably contrived wildness. It’s a small area, yet one where one hundred years ago there stood lofty semi-deciduous afro-montane forest, and where less than two hundred years ago black rhino, african buffalo and savanna elephants roamed, in numbers, browsing, bending and moulding the living landscape as if to their will.

IMG_4717A Wildness Garden does not mean that there should be no people actively participating in it! On these slopes of Mount Meru, for example, for as far back as we need to go, there have always been people, ‘hunter-gathering’, all around the mountain. After all this is a miniscule piece of land, but one in the middle of a continent where we humans first began to evolve, evolving In Nature. And to this day, especially in large parts of this huge continent of Africa, people remain a fundamental constituent of the wildness, “scratching a living” with a panga (aka machete, ‘cutlass’, bill-hook), with fire-stick and hoe from out of the forest and bush. Above all this is the continent where we the Super-Ape co-evolved with the rest of the fauna, and vice versa.

A Wildness Garden does require there are some restraints, by our more gentile Anthropocene standards, quite severe restraints on what should be done, and what should not be done, in order to get the best possible developments in the garden in the shortest possible time.

There should be no use of the agro-veterinary chemicals arsenal so beloved by the increasingly toxic mainstream – toxic at a global level that is, despite some apparent local improvements since Silent Spring in several of the more gentrified corner paddocks of our planet. There should be no pesticides, nor herbicides. Although I must admit that in our case there remains a disgusting rectangular cement-lined rubbish pit, deep in the garden-forest, where seemingly unavoidable domestic plastics, that feed a conservative family of four – our life-style packaging, must be “destroyed”. There are virtually none of the higher order public utilities functioning effectively hereabouts, compared with northern continental Europe for example.

To counter this there are many actions that must or should be done, again admittedly in my case, in an unavoidably ad hoc and flagrantly unscientific manner. Here, in brief are the Thirteen Steps that we have undertaken in order to rewild our plot into the exciting bird-filled “Sonic Shamba” that it is today!

We introduced simulated grazing and browsing. When we moved into our small-holding we gradually reduced the grazing pressure. Continued grazing by goats and sheep, chickens and geese, which severely constrained the ecosystem of the existing garden – maintaining a rather sterile grassland, dotted with ornamental alien saplings and flowering shrubs – was out of the question.

It had been my intention to maintain the regular presence of a single cow and her follower but that proved unworkable. Gradually, over the first three years, cattle grazing was phased out.


However simulated browsing, using pruning shears, clippers, secateurs and brute force with some ignorance, was maintained. Effort was concentrated especially upon the alien shrub community. Of whom the very rapidly proliferating exotic shrub – Lantana camara has been the most troublesome. However, in truth, working with Cherry-Pie Lantana, the indefatigable neotropical wayfaring bush, the “Curse of India”, the”American Bramble”, has provided the most difficult, and yet also the most profoundly insightful, dimension to this entire rewilding experience.


Cyclical or rotational disturbance of the ground. In essence this is further simulation of some of the activities of large herbivores, in this case upon the upper levels of the soil. At our location, in this garden, we attempted at first to simulate only some of the behavior of the recently excluded Masai hybrid-zebu cattle. But bearing in the back of the mind the knowledge that there used to be African Buffalo, Black Rhino and even forest living Elephant, trudging through here less than one hundred years ago, I gradually became a bit more creative with this disturbance! Thus the activities became more robust and we supplemented the destruction and removal of unwanted plant material with importation of what I perceived as some elements that were key to the whole rewilding process.

We began the importation to the plot of indigenous forest leaf-litter, and some forest fruits and indigenous seeds, dry twigs, bark and branches, from the nearest available ‘sustainable sources’.

We began the importation of wherever possible ‘totally’ organic cattle dung from neighbouring areas that were still being grazed by the local Mwarusha Masai zebu-hybrid cattle.

We engaged in the importation of elephant and buffalo dung on a very few occasions only; basically whenever a convenient and accessible source presented itself.

Extirpation of some of the least wanted alien trees, shrubs and ruderals – “weeds” to the eco-fundamentalists – those botanic racists who seem to believe, after five hundred years and more of globalization, that even at the continental scale, all of the bolted horses can be put back into the stables.

IMG_5648We proceeded with the gradual elimination, so far as is possible, of “unhelpful” exotic herbaceous perennials – an almost entirely alien ground flora (especially of the Compositae) – on the assumption that, at this location, an indigenous ground flora would support far more invertebrates, and therefore attract a much greater diversity of birds into the garden. For the first two years I observed closely who ate what. If nobody – whether invert or herp, bird or mammal -seemed interested in eating any product from a particular alien plant species then that species was deemed unhelpful to the programme!

We gradually expanded a programme of alien suppression. The gradual elimination of exotic ornamental tree species began in 2008. Wherever feasible we lopped, pollarded, coppiced, felled and removed – if that was acceptable to the aesthetic dictates of my own family, of our close friends and some near-residents – several trees that had been planted by the late owners, some fifteen years ago. Note that in January 2007 there was only one indigenous tree on the whole plot, near the vehicle gate, an African acacia.

We have undertaken the provision of supplementary food in the dry season to some bird species. This has been chiefly in the form of various African millets (mostly yellow millet) which are scatter-spread (broadcast) in cleared areas, and latterly in the glades that are forming within our rapidly evolving neophyte woodland.

During the recently expired La Niña sequence, which lasted from 2008 – 2013, it proved essential to provide a little grey-water to some of the indigenous saplings, especially those which we had planted in those early years, before I realised that planting was in itself “unnatural” and contrary to “the necessary rewilding flow of our times”. In any case grey-watering was ineffective largely due to the amount of watering that would have been required to establish indigenous trees in the wrong places. Places where they, themselves, had not chosen to grow. Scattering seed is fine, just as mulching with an open mind is best, and some assistance, to self-sown tree seedlings, especially in their early stages, is often a necessity! Nowadays, given the exponential urbanisation of this hill in the past five years, the pressure that has put upon our village’s gravity-fed piped water supplies, we can only afford to water plants that are growing in areas immediately around the house.

The suppression of cats: well, despite the ‘damage’ they do to the bird fauna, the feral-domestic cats are part of another story. Suffice to say we ourselves have none, there was an occasional wild cat that came here to hunt when we first moved in, and we were surrounded by fields, but nowadays, it’s nearly all cement, and our dearest neighbours, well they have six! Nevertheless being such a socialistic greeny-pacifist I have yet to resort to any action more violent than dodging off into the tangles, shouting and stone throwing!