We were enjoying a fantastic morning dugout canoe trip on the Kilombero River, with excellent views of the Purple Heron, Pel’s Fishing Owl, the elusive African Finfoot and many other resident species. The marshy fringes of the river were alive with waterbirds of all sizes and shapes. Suddenly, we watched a surge of water as a large fish leapt briefly into the air before disappearing again. Along the riverbank, there was a hive of activity as fishermen cleaned and sorted their catch, filling baskets woven from giant reeds.
Our mtumbwi—the canoe we had hired—was the perfect way to connect with nature in a quiet, peaceful manner, while still enjoying the thrill of being so close to wildlife. Our knowledgeable guide greatly enhanced the experience, helping us spot even the most expertly camouflaged birds. Turtles, frogs and crocodiles were also common sights, basking in the sun along the banks. The guide reassured us that fatal incidents are rare and that there is no serious threat to safety, despite crocodiles being known to hunt humans.
With the sun warming our backs, we glided silently through the shallow waters, paddling slowly so as not to disturb even a dragonfly. We passed through several narrow channels before reaching vast swamps that, in places, stretched up to 10 kilometres wide. There was so much to enjoy—plants, reeds, marshes, delicate flowers and an abundance of aquatic vegetation. Our small, narrow mtumbwi made only the slightest rippling sound as we watched hippos briefly raise their heads to inspect our passage before sinking back into the water.
We approached a winding section of the river rich with tall grasses, where birds filled the air with sweet melodies, calling from the bracken and sweeping marshes. Here, we finally saw the much-desired endemic Malagasy Pond Heron. It was also remarkable to watch a Coppery-tailed Coucal catching a female mantis that was in the act of devouring the male during mating, having already bitten off his head.
My guide paddled deeper into the tall reeds and grasses, and just a few metres away we spotted a Rhombic Night Adder hunting frogs and fish. Nearby, the equally sought-after Comb-crested Jacana walked effortlessly across water lilies, surrounded by dazzling dragonflies that darted through the air, expertly catching mosquitoes mid-flight. A single dragonfly can consume hundreds of mosquitoes in a day—fascinating creatures, and the only insects capable of flying backwards.
As the wind brushed against us, the Phragmites reeds sang softly in the marsh. The calls of weaver birds soon caught my attention. A flock of small, slender weavers appeared, difficult at first to distinguish from other species—the Kilombero Weaver (Ploceus burnieri), an endemic bird first described by Neil and Liz Baker. I paused to admire these charming birds as they flitted around their nests.
The guide peered deeply into the damp reedbeds and spotted another elusive endemic species, the Kilombero Cisticola, quietly searching for insects in the shadows. Meanwhile, Grey-rumped Swallows circled above us, calling and feeding gracefully in the open air.
