Have a picture 3: Pel's Fishing Owl, Shakawe

2016 has been a huge year for me already, and the above photo shows one of the reasons for this. This is none other than a Pel's Fishing Owl (Scotopelia peli) - a species that is listed as threatened in Botswana due to large-scale habitat loss caused by large herbivores in some of the areas where they used to be quite common. In Kasane, for example, we had breeding pairs as recently as two or three years ago. Unfortunately, this is no longer the case, and despite repeated attempts and insider information, I have failed again and again to see one of these birds in the wild. Over the Easter long-weekend, though, I was lucky enough to be invited out to Lloyd Wilmot's camp on the Okavango River in a place called Shakawe (Okavango Panhandle). Here there are still some places where the right kind of old-growth riverine forests exist, and here I was fortunate enough to encounter not just one, but three of these magnificent creatures – two of which were at their breeding sight. While I can't tell you exactly where I found them, I can tell you that if you're as desperate to see one as I was, Alistair Wilmot (www.wilmotsafaris.com) might be a good place to start.  

I'm really interested in birds - though I wouldn't quite call myself a twitcher. Birding is great for several reasons when you're out in the bush. First off it adds another level of interest that can help relieve the monotony of hours on the back of game-drive vehicle and the endless herds of elephant and impala that make up, for the most part, the average day's sightings up here. Secondly, if you're birding, you've got your eyes peeled and you're looking very carefully at every bush, every tree, every patch of open ground. You're looking for the tiniest movement and listening for the most imperceptible little sound. If you're birding, in other words, you're also much more likely not to miss out on other things that might be lurking inconspicuously just off the road. Birds are beautiful in their own right too, and interesting besides. Bird photography (particularly when they're in flight) is one of the most technically challenging varieties of the art to be found - you really have to know your gear and think very carefully about what you want to capture and how you want to capture it in order to be even remotely successful. So that's why I love it, and that's also why you'll see more of this kind of thing if you stick around. The top spot on my wish-list has just been freed up! Next one down - the Narina Trogon, that most illusive of birds!

Have a picture 2: Jari Temple, Himachal Pradesh

This shot was taken at a village called Jari, which is located just inside the beautiful Parvati Valley in Himichal Pradesh, North-eastern India. The building pictured here is the village temple, which houses the local deity - there are twelve of these from the major villages that are gathered at the annual Mela. Village temples like these are some of the most beautiful buildings to be found in villages in this region. In general, the traditional local architecture in incredibly beautiful, and the temples represent the most exquisite examples of the style. If you're lucky enough you might even see one being refitted - the timber portions of these structures are regularly replaced due to the extreme climate, which is hard on everything. I saw this once or twice and was astounded each time by the workmanship and the detail of the wood carvings around doors, on pillars, on joins in the masonry; every possible surface is crammed with the products of what I can only describe as an art of devotion. It is an incredible thing to behold. Jari is a great spot to recuperate from the hardships of real travel in this part of the world: jarring, nerve-wracking bus rides and stomach trouble, for example. It's also a great stepping-off point for trekking and exploring the rest of the valley - which I highly recommend. It is well connected with bus routes in and out of the valley, and is surrounded on all sides by lush green mountain slopes just begging to be explored. Accommodation is cheap!

Have a picture 1: Fort of São João, Ibo Island

This shot was taken in one of the creepiest places I've ever been to in my life: Ibo Island, located just off the Northern Mozambican town of Pemba in the Quirimbas archipelago. The structure I'm in/on is an ancient Portuguese fort (São João), built atop a far older Arab one, which was used by traders and slavers on the coast of East Africa for centuries. During the time of Portuguese colonial rule in Mozambique it was used to house, torture and kill political prisoners, an extreme Robben Island of sorts. No hard labour, no sunlight (glaring or otherwise), just damp, dark starving isolation punctuated with brutality and the occasional dragging out into the light of a fellow prisoner to be broken and killed, then dumped into the ocean or left on the exposed beach to rot. I love this shot because of the dollar sign some asshole smeared on the inside of the minaret-like watch-post. That and the rusting cannons propped up between the parapets, useless yet somehow still menacing. There is a violence to it, in other words, but it is a violence inextricably linked with commerce, possession and oversight. The idea that the same structure could serve many different purposes all related, finally, to the same old thing is a fascinating one I think. The town is renowned for its silver-work, and the silver used by the smiths comes mostly from old Portuguese coins found along the islands beaches and mangrove-lined waterways. There is fresh water on the island, brought up from the coral bones of the place by a series of wells. The water, though, is distinctly salty, and this, I think, is the reason behind the madness I often caught glimpses of lurking behind the gazes of many of the local inhabitants - the salt and the centuries of violence and death, perhaps. Djinns stalk the streets of the town at night - as they do much of this part of the East African coast. While I was there, one was caught by a local Imam and burnt in a jar on the soccer field. It was a one-armed, one-legged slapping-djinn, which would hop up behind lonely walkers of the night and strike them a blow to the side of their heads. A fairly harmless djinn, then, but so long as it was abroad, few dared venture out or walk home by themselves. Spooky place, as I've said.