June 11 was a day of much driving, from the mountains of western Bulgaria all the way to the Black Sea. Our first stop, though, was the archeological site of Perperikon, where the haler and heartier of our group climbed the hill to see the ruins; still a bit wary of slopes and rocks, I stayed with others in the parking lot, and was glad I did!

Our stroll around the edges of the concrete pad gave us the best bunting day of the trip. “Bunting,” of course, not in any of the senses we give that word in North America, but in its primary European meaning: the “sparrows” (to fall into another dangerous polysemy) of the genus Emberiza.

Unlike most of our American emberizid sparrows, Old World buntings tend to be large, chunky, and sexually dimorphic, and most of them have the endearing habit of perching up in the open to sing. Perhaps my favorite bird of the entire trip was Black-headed Bunting, a true Balkan specialty that proved surprisingly common, its rich, throaty song a characteristic sound of open brushy country.

We also found Rock Buntings a couple of times, and a male Ortolan Bunting gave us good scope views in the Perperikon parking lot (sorry, Gerard: “car park”); both these species are very scarce now in western Europe, especially the Ortolan, still a delicacy in some Mediterranean lands….

Yellowhammer, with one of the most cheerful songs of any European bird, and Cirl Bunting, the male with one of the most elegant faces of any bird anywhere, were surprisingly uncommon on our trip, but we did see (or at least hear) them most days. And Common Reed-Buntings sang from a few of the marshy spots we visited.

But the most characteristic bunting of the Bulgarian countryside, indeed one of its most abundant birds overall, was Corn Bunting, a fist-sized bundle of brown with that odd sizzling song and the habit of flying around with drooping tarsi (whence, I assume, its species name calandra).

Abundant as they were, I could never resist looking at every single Corn Bunting we saw, somewhat to the bemusement of my fellows.

I went to Bulgaria to visit not only the birds but the people who are doing such heroic work to protect them, in a country that in many ways seems not quite “ready” for conservation. The Bulgarian Society for the Protection of Birds is involved in a wide variety of important projects, including both field work and educational efforts, such as the Vulture Center at Madjorovo.

They don’t actually provide beds for the birds; instead, the center, with excellent exhibits and a small nature shop as well, serves as spartan but clean and inviting housing for volunteers. But the spoon and fork are a promise to both birds and birders: there is a small ground-floor restaurant for humans, and a hilltop feeding station for some of Europe’s rarest raptors.

We set out early on June 10, stopping along the way for a few birds. Our first Spanish Sparrows were at a nest in a Lombardy poplar, and Golden Orioles and Red-rumped Swallows were along the roadsides. As we neared the cliffs of Madjorovo, we began to see Griffon Vultures in the sky, and at the end of our short hike to the viewing point, we found 21 on the carcass of a donkey, bought locally and set out for their dining pleasure.

A close look at this picture will show a couple of Egyptian Vultures at the left edge of the flock, dwarfed by their goose-necked cousins. Not all views were this distant; birds were often right overhead as they approached the feeding station across the valley.

As we prepared to leave, a great black shape flew in from the south, soon followed by two more: Cinereous Vultures! Raising their tails above their rumps, they glided in to feed on the carcass, quickly appropriating the choice positions on the donkey’s already skeletal back. Naturally, my camera batteries had given out at that point, but it was still a tremendous experience to see these vanishing carrion-eaters. The staff at the Vulture Center explained to us (in the excellent English so many Bulgarians have, by the way) that while the species is not known to breed regularly in Bulgaria, birds of the Greek population 60 miles away (!) watch for the Griffons to kettle, then fly up across the border to join them at breakfast.

Jet lag and excitement had me up early on the first full day of our trip, and a walk around our hotel in Pazardzhik produced the usual city birds: Common Swifts, vast numbers of Common House Martins, and Western Jackdaws cleaning up the market square.

Breakfast, and then it was off to Trigrad Gorge, magnificently spooky.

Eurasian Crag Martins and Alpine Swifts were overhead, and the fast, rocky streams gave us Gray and White Wagtails and White-throated Dipper.  Our target, though, was on the canyon walls themselves.

Our Bulgarian guide, Mladen, had been monitoring a nest for us, and it was still active when we arrived, the male Wallcreeper flying out the canyon to bring food back to the female.

We watched the birds for half an hour, convinced that they would be the highlight of the trip. Little did we know!