Chasing the Six Glossy Ibises at Starrevaart

Too Late at Starrevaart

I arrived at Starrevaart on a grey Tuesday morning with the confidence of someone who had checked the sightings board twice. The six glossy ibises had been reported there for three days straight, feeding in the shallow marsh north of the viewing screen. I parked, pulled on my boots, and walked the familiar path with a smile already forming.

By the time I reached the water, the smile was gone. A single birder stood at the railing, scanning an empty stretch of reeds. "They left an hour ago," he said, without turning around. "Flew west." I had missed them by sixty minutes, and the frustration sat heavy in my chest.

A Flock With a Schedule of Its Own

Glossy ibises are not supposed to be common in the Netherlands, yet in recent years small groups have become almost regular in late summer. Starrevaart, a shallow lake near Leidschendam, has become one of the most reliable Dutch sites for the species. The birds appear, feed for a few days, and vanish again, as if following a timetable no one else can read.

I spent the next two hours walking the dikes anyway, hoping the flock had simply moved to another corner of the reserve. It had not. I studied the mudflats, counted a dozen lapwings, and listened to the distant calls of bearded reedlings. The marsh was beautiful, but it was not what I had come for.

The Second Attempt, Before Dawn

Two days later I was back, this time before sunrise. Mist hung low over the water, and the reeds were silver with dew. I had learned my lesson: if the ibises moved early, I would be there earlier still.

At 6:40 the first shape appeared out of the fog, a dark silhouette with a long, down-curved bill. Then another. Then four more, rising from the vegetation like shadows given form. The six glossy ibises were feeding barely thirty metres away, probing the soft mud with slow, deliberate movements.

"Patience is not waiting. It is being ready when the birds decide to show themselves."

Watching the Six

For twenty minutes I simply watched. Their plumage looked dark until the light caught it, and then it shimmered with bronze, green, and deep purple, a gloss that gives the species its name. They stayed close together, moving as one group across the shallow water.

I made a quick mental list of what made the encounter worth the wait:

• Six birds together, a strong count for the Netherlands
• Feeding behaviour at close range, unobstructed by reeds
• Soft morning light that revealed the iridescent sheen
• A quiet site with no other photographers crowding the screen

Then, as suddenly as they had arrived, the flock lifted. They circled once, gained height, and drifted away into the mist. Within a minute they were gone, swallowed by the grey morning.

What the Wait Taught Me

Chasing rare birds is mostly a study in failure, and Starrevaart reminded me why. You can read every report, plan every detail, and still arrive an hour late. The birds keep their own schedule, and the best you can do is return.

Before I left, I wrote down the essentials of the trip in my notebook:

1. Check the sightings board the evening before, not the morning of.
2. Arrive before first light, especially in misty conditions.
3. Walk the full perimeter, not just the main viewing screen.
4. Stay quiet and let the flock settle before approaching.

Here is a quick summary of the two visits:

Visit	Arrival Time	Result
First attempt	09:15	Flock gone, one hour too late
Second attempt	06:20	Six birds seen well for twenty minutes

The six glossy ibises of Starrevaart are probably somewhere else now, feeding in another quiet marsh. I do not know if they will return next year, or whether this small Dutch flock will grow or fade. What I do know is that I will be back at the railing before dawn, boots on, binoculars ready, hoping to be early enough this time.