Doñana National Park in Andalusia

Last October, while traveling through Spain and Portugal, I visited Doñana National Park. I took a day trip from Seville to explore this renowned nature reserve. In this post, I’ll share the wildlife I encountered and whether a one-day visit is enough to make the trip worthwhile.

Doñana National Park

Unique natural landscapes. Countless bird species. And, with a bit of luck, the elusive Iberian lynx.

Until then, I had only ever seen Doñana National Park in photographs. For years, I had dreamed of experiencing this extraordinary place for myself. During my two-week journey from Tarifa to Lisbon, visiting the park was initially uncertain—I almost decided to skip it, planning instead to return another time and spend longer exploring it.

Then I came across Naturanda, a company offering day trips from Seville. Since I had already planned a stop in the city, I didn’t hesitate for long and spontaneously booked a day tour to Doñana National Park.

Of course, a single day is far too short to truly experience such a diverse national park. Even so, I was more than happy that I decided to take the tour.

With its marshes and lagoons, pine forests, shifting sand dunes, and dramatic cliffs, Doñana National Park is home to an extraordinary variety of landscapes. I was genuinely captivated by this remarkable place. The tour itself, along with the wonderful group, made the day an unforgettable experience.

The day, however, got off to anything but a promising start: it rained. And rained. And kept on raining. One participant even decided not to join the tour because it was simply too wet. Fortunately, the rain eventually stopped, and we ended up being much luckier than the forecast had suggested.

Doñana National Park is one of Europe’s most important wetlands, located on Spain’s Costa de la Luz. It provides a protected habitat for countless animal species. It is particularly vital for migratory birds, which use Doñana as a crucial stopover before continuing their journey to their wintering grounds in Africa. Larger mammals such as red deer, fallow deer, and wild boar also call the park home. But perhaps its most famous resident is the Iberian lynx.

And did we manage to spot one that day?

On the tour with Naturanda, I became aware for the first time of the distinction between a “national park” and a “natural park”. The heart of Doñana is protected as a national park, while the surrounding Doñana Natural Park acts as a kind of buffer zone.

But what exactly is the difference? A national park is subject to the highest level of protection: conserving nature takes priority above all else, and human activity is kept to a minimum so the landscape can remain as untouched as possible. In the Doñana Natural Park, protection is less strict, allowing activities such as sustainable farming to continue alongside conservation efforts.

I found it fascinating to learn about these differences, and it made me even more curious about what awaited us inside the national park.

The Guadalquivir River plays a central role in the Doñana ecosystem. Flowing through cities such as Córdoba and Seville, it eventually empties into the Atlantic Ocean near Sanlúcar de Barrameda. In its lower reaches, just before reaching the sea, the river forms vast marshes and wetlands known as “Las Marismas”. These wetlands shape the landscape of Doñana and are the foundation of its exceptional ecological importance.

Before I take a closer look at Doñana’s remarkable wildlife, there’s one important issue that shouldn’t go unmentioned: the park is facing a severe water shortage. This is partly a consequence of climate change, but it is also driven by the intensive use of groundwater for agriculture. In particular, the cultivation of strawberries and other berries consumes vast amounts of water. As demand continues to grow, the pressure on this unique protected area increases year after year.

Without water, there can be no wetlands. And when wetlands disappear, countless animal and plant species lose a vital habitat. Although exceptionally wet springs can provide temporary relief for Doñana, they are far from enough to reverse the long-term trend. Restoring groundwater levels would require several consecutive years of above-average rainfall.

It is difficult to witness this ongoing decline. Spanish strawberries have increasingly come under scrutiny because of their high water demand and the pressure they place on the region’s groundwater resources. But will that be enough to change the way water is managed and help secure Doñana’s future? Only time will tell.

Flamingos, white storks, and many other bird species

Our tour began in Seville and first took us to the vicinity of La Puebla del Río, a town on the banks of the Guadalquivir River. There, the so-called Las Marismas unfold—a vast landscape shaped by water. One of the first birds I encountered here was the glossy ibis.

In the area around Doñana National Park, I encountered glossy ibises again and again. Wetlands are generally among their preferred habitats, which is why they are often found in marshes, lagoons, lakes, or along rivers.

What makes them particularly interesting is their wide geographical distribution. A look at observation data on iNaturalist shows that glossy ibises have been recorded on nearly every continent—Antarctica excluded. However, they do not yet appear to be established in South America, and they are also rarely found in the northern regions of North America, Europe, and Asia.

Alongside the many glossy ibises, I also spotted numerous white storks. While I had never encountered glossy ibises in Germany before, white storks are, of course, very familiar to me. In both northern and southern Germany, they can be easily observed during the spring and summer months.

A well-known example is Linum in Brandenburg, where occupied nests can be seen on numerous rooftops. In the south as well, for instance at the Salem stork station, countless white storks can be observed up close.

In the area around Doñana National Park, I saw many of them wading through the wet meadows in search of food.

Unlike the glossy ibis, however, the white stork does not have such a wide global distribution. This is also reflected in observation data on iNaturalist. While white storks are occasionally recorded in Asia, for example in India, the vast majority of sightings come from Europe and Africa.

White storks are migratory birds that travel long distances between their breeding and wintering grounds, sometimes flying all the way from northern Europe to southern Africa. As soaring birds, they depend on warm air thermals and avoid long crossings over open water. For this reason, they follow land-based migration routes, either via the Strait of Gibraltar (western migratory route) or via the Bosporus (eastern migratory route).

The stork family (Ciconiidae) comprises around 20 species. In addition to the white stork, this includes, among others, the marabou stork (left photo), which is found south of the Sahara, and the jabiru (right photo) from South America.

Not to forget the black stork, which I once observed in a wildlife park. I would very much like to see it in the wild as well. Black storks are also said to occur in the area around the Guadalquivir River.

At the place with all the glossy ibises and white storks, however, I didn’t encounter a single black stork…

…but instead, countless beautiful flamingos.

Wow. What a beautiful sighting. So many flamingos. I didn’t even know where to look. Everywhere I turned, it seemed to be teeming with them.

Flamingos also love water.

Speaking of water: in the area where we observed so many flamingos, rice is also cultivated. In some cases, efforts are made to create a kind of substitute habitat for waterbirds. However, rice farming also requires large amounts of water. It is interesting to consider what impact this has on the local ecosystem.

Honestly, I wouldn’t have expected rice to be grown in Andalusia!

We were all absolutely thrilled by the flamingos. What I especially enjoyed was that I wasn’t the only one fascinated by the large number of birds. For the other participants as well, it was the first time seeing so many flamingos, and we were able to share that excitement together.

The flamingos in the area around Doñana National Park are, incidentally, greater flamingos. Worldwide, there are six flamingo species in the flamingo family (Phoenicopteridae). In Spain, the greater flamingo is the most commonly found, although iNaturalist also shows records of the lesser flamingo being observed in the country.

That is precisely why I enjoy using iNaturalist so much: it shows where different species have already been sighted.

At the place we visited, however, we encountered “only” greater flamingos.

Greater flamingos are quite selective when it comes to their habitat requirements. They live in colonies made up of many individuals, but their environment must provide sufficient protection from disturbances and be difficult for predators to access. At the same time, they need easy access to feeding grounds. They prefer shallow, muddy shorelines, brackish water areas, or coastal inlets.

Typical of greater flamingos is their predominantly pink-and-white plumage, while the primary and secondary flight feathers are black. I was able to observe this particularly well when the flamingos were flying into their colony.

Interestingly, greater flamingos hatch with a light grey downy plumage, which develops into dark grey feathers after a few weeks. Only after several years do the young birds acquire the characteristic plumage of adult flamingos.

Among the many flamingos we observed, there were also some younger individuals that had not yet developed their adult plumage. It was particularly fascinating that several of the juvenile flamingos had gathered in one spot.

What is also particularly interesting is that juvenile birds need months or even years before their legs turn a strong pink. With their black or grey legs, they can easily be identified as young birds. Only after about two years do the legs begin to show their first pinkish tones.

The base of the greater flamingo’s bill also changes only gradually: it takes years to shift from grey to a pale pink and eventually to a deep, vivid pink.

We stayed with the flamingos for quite a while. The scene was lively and full of movement. Their calls sounded like trumpets—as if they constantly had something to communicate. We simply listened. It was beautiful.

It was especially fascinating to watch as more and more greater flamingos arrived or took off again. A typical feature of the species is that they fly with their necks and legs fully extended.

But it wasn’t only greater flamingos flying overhead—red-crested pochard were also on the move. I would have loved to see them up close, as I only rarely get the chance to observe these birds myself.

Since I encounter them so infrequently, I probably wouldn’t have been able to identify the ducks on my own. Fortunately, there is iNaturalist!

A grey heron also flew overhead.

Amid all the flamingos and glossy ibises, however, it barely caught my attention—I can regularly observe grey herons even in Berlin.

Speaking of herons: in the area where the greater flamingos were present, I also noticed two other heron species.

On the one hand, the cattle egret (left photo) and on the other hand, the little egret (right photo). I had already observed both species previously in Tarifa.

Eventually, however, we decided it was time to move on, as our destination was still Doñana National Park.

I took one last photo, and then we set off.

On the way towards El Rocío

I was incredibly excited about what awaited us in Doñana National Park. Apparently, a guide had spotted an Iberian lynx on a road inside the park the weekend before—one that wasn’t even particularly shy, but simply lying there.

We admired the photo and naturally hoped for a similar encounter. The other participants were very optimistic. I, on the other hand, knew that sightings of such elusive animals as the Iberian lynx are mostly a matter of luck—unless you spend hours waiting in a place where one has been seen repeatedly. My optimism was therefore rather restrained, though I kept it to myself so as not to dampen the mood. Maybe we would still get lucky?

On our way into the national park, we didn’t encounter an Iberian lynx, but a marsh harrier soared high above us. Wow!

The marsh harrier is a short- and long-distance migrant found across Europe, Africa, and Asia. It is therefore not surprising that we were able to observe it in the area around Doñana National Park, as marsh harriers prefer habitats with extensive reed beds—a typical vegetation type of wetlands. In dense reeds, they build their nests either above water or directly on the ground among marsh vegetation.

The marsh harrier belongs to the Accipitridae family, just like the northern goshawk and the common buzzard. While I regularly encounter goshawks and buzzards in Berlin, spotting a marsh harrier was something truly special for me. Especially since I probably wouldn’t have been able to identify it confidently on my own, as bird species I only rarely see are not always immediately recognizable to me.

We didn’t stay with the marsh harrier for long, as we still wanted to continue into the national park. But we also couldn’t simply drive past such an observation—it was too special a moment for that.

So we continued on.

But just a few minutes later, we stopped again—there was yet another special sighting. Our guide pulled over and pointed in the direction where a bird was supposedly perched. It took us a moment to spot it. Eventually, we saw it too.

Still, we couldn’t help but wonder how sharp our guide’s eyesight must have been to notice this bird from such a distance while driving. However, the bird is regularly seen at this exact spot, which is why our guide had been looking deliberately toward the pole. That reassured us.

It was a little owl.

Even though we only spent a very short time with the little owl, I was very happy about this sighting. Little owls are actually crepuscular and nocturnal birds. Only during the period of raising their young do they occasionally hunt during the day as well. Since little owls usually breed and raise their chicks in spring, I found myself wondering why this particular individual was sitting there in broad daylight.

However, I didn’t dwell on that question for long and simply enjoyed my luck. There wasn’t much time to think anyway, because just a few minutes later the next special sighting awaited us.

Black storks.

Luck was on my side again: I had really wanted to see black storks in the wild—and now I did. Although I didn’t manage to take a particularly good photo, I was very happy.

In the image on the right, a juvenile can be identified by its brownish-grey plumage and white underparts.

We didn’t stay with the black storks for long either before continuing on, passing bulls. Unfortunately, bullfighting still exists in Andalusia, and I personally don’t think much of maintaining such practices simply for the sake of tradition.

We continued driving, but kept our eyes open at all times—maybe an Iberian lynx was hiding somewhere along the roadside? Or a rabbit?

In fact, a rabbit darted past briefly, but I was too slow and unfortunately didn’t manage to see it.

Eventually, we reached a spot where we were able to get out and walk a short distance. Up to that point, we had spent a lot of time in the car, and it felt really good to stretch our legs a little.

This place also seems to be an important nesting site for storks—although not in October, when I was there, but perhaps again in spring?

Suddenly, a bird appeared overhead again. Was it a marsh harrier? Or perhaps another bird of prey?

I found it incredibly difficult to identify it this time as well.

In the end, it turned out not to be a marsh harrier, but a booted eagle. The booted eagle also belongs to the Accipitridae family.

We continued driving when our guide suddenly stopped on a sandy track. What had he spotted?

It was a dung beetle!

What makes this beetle particularly fascinating is that it rolls dung into balls. It then either buries them or uses them as a breeding chamber for its eggs. Because dung beetles shape dung into small spheres—so-called “dung balls”—they are also commonly known as “rollers.”

We only stopped there for a brief moment as well.

Soon we reached El Rocío, a small village located right at the edge of Doñana National Park. But before arriving, we had to stop a few more times—there was again something special to observe.

This time, it was red deer.

On our way towards El Rocío, we kept encountering red deer. Some were on the move. At times they were very shy and ran off as soon as we stopped the car, while at other times they were less cautious, pausing to watch us curiously.

Red deer are mainly found across Europe and can also be observed in Germany, for example in forests or wildlife parks. However, they have also been introduced by humans to Australia, New Zealand, the United States, and Canada.

As with most deer species, only the males grow antlers each year.

We watched the red deer for a while.

One thing that stood out was that the first animals we encountered were still quite shy, but the further we drove into Doñana National Park, the shorter their flight distance seemed to become. Perhaps the red deer in the core area of Doñana have learned that humans pose no real threat and therefore show less caution. Or are animals in the peripheral zones simply less accustomed to human presence?

Of course, these are only my personal observations from a few brief encounters with red deer in the Doñana area. I can therefore only speculate—and I might well be completely wrong.

Nevertheless, I took one last photo and enjoyed the presence of the red deer until we eventually continued on our way.

Finally, we reached El Rocío.

The village felt quite unusual, yet at the same time interesting: there were hardly any paved roads, many uninhabited houses, and only a few people on the streets.

El Rocío is, however, not entirely unknown—it is an important pilgrimage site. At Pentecost, during the famous Romería del Rocío pilgrimage, more than a million pilgrims are said to gather in the small village to venerate the Virgin Blanca Paloma (“White Dove”). At other times of the year, only around 2,000 people live there.

I visited in October and was therefore able to experience El Rocío in its “normal” state. What stood out in particular were the sandy and gravel roads, which are perfectly suited for horses but hardly for cars. Even during the pilgrimage, many groups of pilgrims travel to El Rocío on horseback, which gives the roads their very distinctive function.

El Rocío was a fascinating place on the edge of Doñana National Park.

The fact that El Rocío lies on the edge of the national park—and therefore in a wetland area—can easily be seen in the surrounding landscape.

A cattle egret was moving not far from a viewing spot.

Nevertheless, we took about a half-hour break in El Rocío before continuing on to Matalascañas, where we had lunch. After eating, we drove to another special place—a place where I could have stayed much longer…

The coast of Doñana National Park

One place that particularly stayed in my memory is the beach in the area around Matalascañas. At first glance, the place seemed somewhat sleepy and unremarkable, but then I noticed the beach, the landscape, and the vivid colors: the deep blue of the sea and sky, the rich green of the pine trees, and the warm beige of the sand—all in perfect harmony. What a unique place! It’s no surprise that many people from Seville spend their weekends here.

With a length of over 30 kilometres, the coastline of Doñana is the longest wild beach in Spain. I just couldn’t stop looking at it.

Apparently, there are also people living there in small huts right on the beach. These tiny dwellings almost seem like part of the landscape itself, quietly blending in between sand and dunes. It is easy to imagine how peaceful and remote life there must be, with the sound of the ocean as a constant companion. It must be a special feeling to spend everyday life in such an untouched place and to wake up each morning to sweeping views of the sea.

But is it really as beautiful as I imagine it to be?

We encountered very few animals at this place. However, this was also due to the timing—it wasn’t the best time for wildlife observation, as many animals are less active in the afternoon.

Nevertheless, we found red deer droppings (left photo), and a few yellow-legged gulls (right photo) glided elegantly overhead.

A path led us further inland, towards the pine trees glowing in their most vibrant green. Between the trees, the scent of resin filled the air, mixed with a gentle sea breeze.

From there, we also had a wonderful view over the dunes towards the shimmering blue sea. Sand, pines, and water came together in perfect harmony, and the calmness of the place made every moment feel special. Only the sound of the wind and the waves accompanied us.

From our viewpoint, we spotted a lighthouse. Admittedly, it took me quite a while to actually make it out. If no one had told me it was there, I probably would never have noticed it—let alone managed to take a photo of it.

Behind us, the clouds were gathering. Would we end up getting some rain after all? So far, we had really been lucky—after all, it had been pouring so heavily in the morning. I was hoping for sunshine, but if it did start to rain again, so be it. After all, rain has its own charm too.

Finally, we reached the car park, and from a distance I spotted a magpie. Of course, I am very familiar with the magpie, as it is also native to Germany.

Naturally, I was happy to see it—but I probably would have been even a little more excited about an Iberian magpie, as I had never had the chance to observe this species in the wild before.

There are no Iberian magpies in Germany. However, both the common magpie and the Iberian magpie belong to the crow family (Corvidae).

The Iberian magpie is found exclusively on the Iberian Peninsula—meaning in both Spain and Portugal. Our guide promised me that he would stop if we happened to spot one along the way (if possible).

I was really hoping for my luck to hold—and voilà: an Iberian magpie flew to the edge of a road. Fortunately, there was a small pull-off where we could stop the car. That allowed me to observe and photograph the small, beautiful Iberian magpie for a short moment.

I think I was the only one who was that excited about this sighting…

Information: In addition to the common magpie and the Iberian magpie, the crow family also includes carrion crows, hooded crows, Eurasian jays, jackdaws, common ravens, and rooks.

Palacio del Acebrón

Our final stop was the gallery forest of Palacio del Acebrón. A gallery forest is a narrow strip of woodland that develops along rivers or streams. Such forests are particularly valuable habitats, as they often occur in otherwise treeless landscapes. Thanks to a constant water supply, they can even thrive in dry regions.

I was looking forward to exploring the forest—but unfortunately, it started to drizzle just at that moment.

But that didn’t matter—we managed just fine anyway.

The forest felt both mysterious and fascinating at the same time.

With the sky now overcast and a light drizzle setting in, it was even darker among the trees, and the shadows between them seemed deeper. I admired the rough bark of a cork oak and noticed a ground beetle scurrying quickly across the path. Everywhere, the damp air was palpable, and the soft dripping of raindrops onto leaves and soil intensified the feeling of being in an almost hidden place, where nature seemed to follow its own rules.

Suddenly, our guide became very excited—what had he spotted?

A flock of long-tailed tits was moving overhead! The tiny birds were hiding in the leafless branches, but this time they couldn’t completely conceal themselves. They were incredibly fast—far too quick to capture in a photo. Still, the sighting was absolutely wonderful.

Wow! I honestly hadn’t expected long-tailed tits, as I usually only see these birds in winter.

Eventually, we reached a spot that offered a wonderful view over the water.

While we were still taking in the view over the water, our guide had already spotted something new.

This time, he had noticed a kingfisher! But whereas I had at least caught a brief glimpse of the long-tailed tits, the kingfisher disappeared back into the bushes in a flash. What a pity. At the same time, the drizzle began to get heavier, but we didn’t let it discourage us and kept observing. Who knows what other surprises might still be waiting for us?

Shortly afterwards, a common moorhen swam calmly across the water, as if to show us that nature always has more to offer—if you only take the time to look closely.

Eventually, we made our way back to the car.

I was truly deeply impressed by Doñana National Park and its surroundings. The landscapes, the wildlife, the special atmosphere—everything came together perfectly. October is a wonderful time to visit the park. I also thoroughly enjoyed the tour with Naturanda—it was well organised, exciting, and full of unforgettable moments in nature.

More information

Have you already been to Doñana National Park? How long did you spend there, and which animals did you manage to spot? Feel free to share your experiences in the comments.