Horned Guan Death March

This post was updated December 19, 2017 when I noticed many of the photos were gone after transferring the blog from Wordpress to SquareSpace. I also updated some of the text. It was originally two posts and now I've condensed it to one.

This particular toy at the top of this post is a replica of a horned guan. You can get them from knock-off Kinder Eggs called Yowies—which for whatever reason are legal in the US. I was going to just buy the eggs until I got my guan, but the chocolate is nasty. Rather than going the traditional route of purchasing several inedible eggs, I found someone on eBay who already had the guan and for the price of one Yowie egg I had the guan sent directly to my home. To people who say this is cheating...I say, "Bite me."

A horned guan is one of the rarest birds in the Americas. Imagine a black and white bird the size of a turkey that has a bright red horn on its head that lives in the trees on the side of a volcano. Even if there weren’t only 600 or so of these birds left in the world, they're are still an amazing sight.

If I truly understood what was ahead of me to see a guan, I don't know that I would have gone for it. There were tales from some of my buddies on the bird festival circuit that it was a horrific climb. I had heard of well-known, great birders, who I considered to be physically fit, having to crawl that last part of the trail just to see. Here's Julie Zickefoose on NPR and on her blog or Bill of the Birds on his horned guan search. I think a part of me thought that was just a bit of exaggeration--birders have their fish stories too.

The hike up Volcan San Pedro was saved for one of our final days of birding in Guatemala. Our group had been mentioning it to each other, "Do you think you're going to be able to do it?" or "Sharon, do you really think you can take your scope up the volcano, I'd leave it here."

I heard that previous male birders had brought their scopes, so I thought that I should be able to do it too. I didn't get very scared until the day before. I had found some wifi at our lodge in Los Andes and put up a status update on Facebook: Sharon is nervous about tomorrow's climb up the Volcano to see the horned guan. I got a comment from Chris Benesh who works for Field Guides--travels all over the world to show people birds. He was also on the same Ivory-bill Search Team I was on. I considered to him to be very physically fit. He left a comment to the effect of the climb being the toughest he had ever done, it was brutal, but the got the guan.

Okay, if Chris called it brutal, maybe those stories of birders panting and crawling to the top weren't just exaggerated fish tales. I decided to be all Scarlett O'Hara about it and, "I'll not think about that right now, I'll go crazy if I do. I'll think about that tomorrow."

We had one more field trip planned at Los Andes to look for some mannikans, I opted to take the afternoon off, relax a bit so I could be fresh the next morning. The next day was a rough schedule. We had to be ready to go by 4:15 am, take a bus to Lake Atitlan where we would take a ferry to San Pedro for the climb. The hike up to the guan was going to take four hours, who knew how long the hike down would take.

Gulp.

Initially, all went well. We arrived at Lake Atitlan and watched in amazement at how the locals used the water. As we were loading our ferry, one man drove in his tuk tuk (tiny taxi car) into the water for a wash, another drove in his truck, a couple of people were bathing in the nude right on the water's edge.

Volcan San Pedro...were we really going to climb that?

We boarded boat, marveled at the beautiful volcanoes that surrounded the lake and laughed as the cool water sprayed us as we hit waves. Outside the boat we looked to pad our species list with lesser scaup, brown pelicans, and ruddy ducks. As we approached the other side of the lake, we watched in amazement as Volcan San Pedro loomed over us. Yes, we would be climbing this extinct volcano. Hugo, our guide tried to alleviate our fears since many of us were not accustomed to this altitude. In his quiet, spanish accent he said, "Yes, we will go slow. It will be slow, slow walking, then looking at birds, slow, slow walking, then looking at birds."

I felt some comfort in this. Perhaps the four hours was not all climbing but just such a slow pace of birding that it would seem steep, but not be that bad.

When we landed in San Pedro, I saw more tourists here than in any other town. Peddlers were ready for us, a Mayan woman greeted us with a basket full of baked goods. I looked at the steep streets in front of us and wondered if we were going to start right away, but our local guides and hosts Irene and Ana Christina said that a bus was coming to take us.

Our "bus" was a pick up truck and they ended up corralling ten birders like livestock in the back to take us up to the horned guan preserve.

I love this photo. We’re all so happy, so giddy, so blissfully unaware of the horrors and sweat that awaited us. That’s me with Mike Bergin of 10,000 Birds, Jen Sauter, Hugo our guide and even a part of Rick Wright. It was all just an exciting adventure then.

This poor guys was carrying what appeared to be recently washed blankets up a steep road. 

We began our drive through the narrow cobblestone streets of San Pedro, up and up we went. We passed many locals taking the route on foot, many carrying piles of goods on their backs. What is it like to be acclimatized to this?

We arrived at the reserve for the horned guan. We readjusted our packs with our lunches and our bottles of water and began the trail. The day was sunny, the birds were numerous and we made some stops.

We found a spot loaded with western tanagers (more of those North American breeders). I was excited to get the rufous-capped warbler. I had actually seen one of these earlier in our journey, but was the only one who had. I was glad others got to see it and this time I even got to digiscope it. We also got great looks at this ginormous squirrel cuckoo—it was much bigger than the black-billed and yellow-billed cuckoos I see. And so beautiful too—reminiscent of a brown thrasher.

Rufous-capped warbler.

As we stopped for all of this birding, I started to think, “This isn’t so bad.” I have short legs and I was not used to the elevation but was doing ok. I did lag behind the group but always managed to catch up with enough time to rest along with them before pressing forward. I felt that I could do this.

The relentless trail to the guan...five hours of this nonsense. 

But then we didn’t stop for birds anymore and the trails became much steeper. It was switchback after switchback. It was dry and the volcanic dust made for powdery walking conditions. I toiled up the trail and as my pace slowed, the sound of our group ahead became more and more faint, I realized I was losing ground. There was another person named Mel in our group who seemed to struggle with the climb along with me. I was grateful for the company and to not to be the pokiest of the little puppies.

This guy booked it past me like the switch backs were nothing. 

Local farmers loaded with burdens of fire wood, corn or coffee moved swiftly passed us on the trail. Many looked to be twice my age which made me feel worse. I bike ride, I lead nature hikes, I haul bee equipment and this trail was turning my legs to jelly. It was relentless in its incline. I was desperate for a flat surface. The high elevation and lack of oxygen didn’t help either. Life in Minnesota rarely exceeds 850 feet. The trail starts at about 5000 feet and has a change of over 4000 feet.

The gorgeous views on the climb. 

After much sweat and panting my slow friend and I caught up to the group at another resting spot. I hoped that we were half way up and was saddened to learn that we were only a third of the way, with another three hours to go. It was at this moment that Gustavo from Neblina Tours told me , “I’m having trouble staying balanced on this steep trail. Would it be alright with you if I took your scope and used it as a way to balance myself on the trail?”

One of our guides Hugo on the left. Gustavo on the right holding my scope...note how much equipment he was carrying besides my scope. 

It was lie. He carried more on this trip than I did: he had two massive field guides besides his binoculars, lunch, water, recording equipment, etc. I knew it was a lie and I was too sweaty and tired to care. I gratefully accepted his offer and continued my slow lumbering walk up the trail.

We eventually made it to a halfway point. I sat on the floor of the observation deck and used the wooden railing to prop my head up and looked out at the beautiful view. I was seriously questioning my life choices. I was not forced to do this, I signed up--willingly. What’s worse is that I could have stopped at any time. I could have just stopped walking on the trail and said, “No more, I’ll wait here in the shade, watch some foliage-gleaners and pepper-shrikes and wait for you on your glory walk down the trail after seeing the guan.” One of our group already had given up the trail due to a bad knee. It was the honorable and safe thing to do. But I willingly continued. Quitting this steep upward battle was never an option to me.

I looked at our group and said panting, “This is like hitting yourself with a hammer because it feels so good when you finally stop.”

We laughed and Hugo warned that we should probably save our oxygen.

Jen soon joined Mel and I as those lagging behind now and two of us practically held on to each other to stay upright. Ana Christina from the tourism board sensed our waning resolve and anytime we  paused she would call in her sweet Spanish accent, “Jen, Sharon, come on, the horned guan is right up here.”

We fell for it once and scrambled up, but realized she was really a cloud forest sprite beckoning us forward. It worked. At every switchback we would pause to try and get some order to our respiratory system, Ana Christina would be another switchback ahead of us calling, “C’mon Jen. C’mon Sharon, horned guan is waiting for you.”

We finally reached the horned guan appropriate elevation. I sat in the dust. Gustavo smiled and pointed out how dirty my face was. Fuck you, Gustavo. Part of our group rested, while the rest did an initial search.

The exact moment I realized I hated birds and that I may need psychological help. 

I took a picture of myself at this point. I wanted to remember forever the exact moment I realized how much I hated birds and that I needed psychological help. What the fuck was wrong with me. I had heard how horrible it was and I kept going, for what? For the high of seeing one rare bird.

No guan. We needed to go higher. Fuck everything.

We paused once more. Optimism was fading in the group. A few still held out some sweaty hope, but the rest of worried that we’d been talking too much or paying more attention to our body and foot aches and completely missed the turkey sized tree chicken that was our quarry. One guy even said, “You know, we could go all this way and not see it.”

This was the first time in my life I ever felt the deep, gutteral desire to throat punch someone.

Then an anxious whisper came from above us, some crazy asshole in our group was still climbing and went two switch backs up…and found the guan. All of us suddenly forgot body fatigue and dashed up the switchback—where had this new-found energy come from?

Horned guan foot.

The light broke through the trees and…all I could see was a bird foot. Fuck you, bird. I was going to count it, but if this was all I’m going to get of you. Fuck you.

Finally, a little head poked out. I saw the horn, the little red horn where the guan gets its name! And the crazy yellow eye! At first we thought there was one guan, but there were two…and then a whole flock of about 7—they vocalized, they displayed, they flew! My little head exploded in awe as I realized I was watching what is arguably the most endangered bird in the Americas.

Horned guan in all its crazy glory. Alas, this was back when I was digiscoping with a point and shoot. Oh the photos I could get  now with a smartphone. 

And after all of that, we had to go back down! Certainly it would not take the five hours that it took to get up to the guan, but it would still take time. My legs are only used to flat surfaced and had been trudging uphill for four hours non stop. And now I had to go down, something I still wasn't used to. Every muscle in my legs vibrated at any moment I stopped. I kept going, but the decline and volcanic ash still caused me to slide and fall. Every time I did fall, a large cloud of dust preceded me, causing Hugo to cross his arms and shout, "Safe!" as if I were a baseball player sliding into home. Fuck you, Hugo.

Some way, some how we made it back down the trail to our meeting point, our water bottles depleted. Ana Christina took us to a local watering hole for some refreshments to wait for the ferry. In our dehydrated state, we should of have had water, but it wasn’t safe for the American to drink so our only option was beer. Giddiness soon set in with most of us, especially for me--I NEVER HAVE TO DO THAT CLIMB EVER AGAIN. It occurred to me that a horned guan is a bird that I will only see once in a lifetime and I had a pang of pity for guys like Hugo and Mel who would have to lead a tour here again and take people up that volcano. Those poor god damned bastards.

One of the many Mayan ladies who sensed our fatigue and tipsiness and used the opportunity to relieve us of many quetzals in exchange for their exquisite and colorful textiles. 

We finally crossed the lake and checked into our next lodge. I took a very long shower with my scope and binoculars to clean off all of the volcanic dust. By the time we were settled and clean it was 8:30pm when we sat down for dinner of squash soup, homemade tortas, fruity drinks and rich dark Guatemalan run.

I've only ever seen this hot sauce in Guatemala. It was as tasty as it was hilarious. 

We discussed the next day's birding. After getting our stuff together at 4:15am that morning and birding almost 12 hours, I was delighted to hear that we were meeting at 7am for breakfast before birding (we'd get to sleep in).

Mel said in a panicked voice, "Hey that means we won't get birding until 8 - 8:30 am, anyone for starting earlier?"

Goddamn lister was already on the quest for more birds.

Hugo our guide said, "Well, it's whatever you want..."

There was a pause, I could tell by some in the group that they needed the rest as much as I did but didn’t want to look like the weenie and say no. I myself have no problem saying no.

"I gotta say that I'm not in favor of that idea and would rather sleep in and rest after today."

Mel looked disappointed, but I felt a palpable wave of relief come across the table from everyone.

So I look down on my little plastic horned guan that ordered from eBay, I think you can understand why I don't think it's cheating to go through loads of technically edible chocolate to get my little souvenir of the day I realized my limits in birding. 

More on Los Andes in Guatemala

Look at this pygmy-owl outside of Los Andes lodge! This one perched right out the front door. There was some debate as to whether this was a ferruginous pygmy-owl or mountain pygmy-owl. The debate seemed to center around the spots on his head. Ferruginous pygmy-owls should have streaks, mountain pygmy-owls should have more spots. To me, it looks streaky. Bottom line, it was a tiny owl.

Pygmy-owls were all over the place in Guatemala, this was a pygmy-owl that was spotted as our bus was passing through a small town. You know how in the US, some people will try to whistle like an eastern screech-owl, in Guatemala, birders whistle like pygmy-owls to get smaller birds to come in closer. One day our group saw a yellow-wing cacique fly over. In trying to get it to come back, someone in our group started the pygmy-owl call and I noticed something small and brown fly up to a telephone pole with a hole. At first I thought it was a wren, but it was a ferruginous pygmy-owl--we actaully called one in.

How's this for a Guatemala sunrise? This was just off of the organic tea farm at Los Andes Private Nature Reserve. The tea is bordered by cloud forest where resplendent quetzals can be found. I'm generally not a fan of early rising (I know, I know, I'm a birder, I'm supposed to enjoy getting up in the dark, but I don't). However, when I'm forced to get up, what a treat to get a fabulous sunrise.

Here's a zoom in, you can see the puffs of smoke coming off the volcano--beautiful. We took our time walking in to the forest, many birds were already singing. I mentioned early on that digiscoping was a challenge in Guatemala--digiscoping in the tropics is hard work and this was a trail where I had to make a decision: spend a few wasted seconds trying to get the camera an scope lined up, or use those precious seconds to enjoy the bird. One was an antpitta, I can't think of any way to describe it but maybe, combine an American robin and a nerf football with long legs. It was a bird I expected to only hear and not see, but as our group made it through the forest, one was walking along the path searching for food. What a treat to see this secretive brown bird.

Here's the view of the tea farm outside of the forest with the quetzal. This was a cool spot to stand in and just watch birds go by.

We searched this forest more than once for the quetzal but I only heard it, I did not see it. I heard two different versions of quetzal sounds. One was a rather pleasant, almost ticking call. The other scared the crap out of me. I found a very distant version of it on Xeno Canto, you'll hear this kindy of shrieky gobble, that's what I heard, only it was right behind me and ten time louder. I literally ducked when I heard it. Alas, did not see the quetzal, but we saw their nest boxes scattered about. We saw so many other birds including azure-rumped tanager, emerald touchanette, blue-crowned chlorophonia, and collared trogon that I could live with living to see a quetzal another day.

They did have resplendant quetzal tail feathers on display at the lodge. I stood next to one to give some perspective as to how long their tails can get. I'm five foot and that tail is over half as long as I am.

I should mention that the road to the quetzal area is quite adventurous. Our group was packed into the pack of this truck and we had to stand...I had to be careful where I stood. My head was at the top bar level and if I stood in one of the corners, I would end up hitting my head.

The ride is about about twenty minutes long on what I would call minimum maintenance roads...and the above was about as flat as they got. There were curves and hills and large rocks and we were bounced all over in the back. It was nerve racking enough to watch when it was daylight and even more so when it was dark--our drivers were great, they knew how to drive on those roads, but to me who is not used to those types of mountain road--it was exciting. But the upside of when it was dark was that we'd periodically stop for pauraques sitting in the road, I'm sure they followed our vehicle a bit as toddled down the road, going after insects kicked up.

I have to get back to Los Andes. At least to see the quetzal, but also because it's a cool place.

Los Andes Private Nature Reserve In Guatemala

Why, hello there, Mr. Clay-colored thrush! I totally forgot about this photo I took of you at Los Andes in Guatemala!

While working on another project, I discovered a huge backlog of blog posts--I have parts of Guatemala that I haven't blogged about yet--one of them was my absolute favorite lodge we visited. Doing some real digging in my photos, I have entries from last year's Rio Grande Valley Bird Festival--doh! So, we're going to catch up on a few spots as well as talk about Kazakhstan over the next week.

If I ever have the chance to return to Guatemala, I want to return to Los Andes Private Nature Reserve. It's a farm that supports 80 families and grows organic tea, shade-grown coffee and quinine. Surrounding the farm are several rubber tree plantations as well. Parts of it are left untouched and you can find quetzals there. The most common bird I saw while we were there was the yellow-winged tanager (above).

The lodge itself offered a cozy, family atmosphere. Comfortable couches, tons of books, info on the rich family history--an even Internet access. I was able to use Skype here to call Non Birding Bill free over the Internet. Dinners were family style and prepared on premises. You knew when each meal was almost ready, you could hear the cooks in the kitchen patting out the homemade tortillas. Olga, the owner, was quick to offer us samples of their own coffee and tea. She even made us fresh chai--what heaven to drink those beverages while slowly meandering around outside the house...

...and watching dynomite birds like socail flycatcher and red-legged honeycreeper. I could easily spend two weeks at this place. If I ever write a birding romance novel, I would set it here.

There were some familiar sites, like tons of monarch caterpillars. I've read that there are six generations of monarchs in a year. Since it was February, I wondered if this was the first generation after the one that over-winters?

There were also quite a few great kiskadees around--a bird I see quite a bit in south Texas. They look very similar to the social flycather. Note the large heavy bill on the above kiskadee.

Note the smaller dainty bill on the social flycatcher. The also sound quite different. The kiskadee seems to shout, "kisk ka DEE!" Here's a social flycatcher singing:

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tb91w3TDeEc[/youtube]

Almost like the kid brother of the kiskadee trying really hard, but comes off a tad whiny. Cute birds and a treat to watch while sipping organic tea.

This is a holding pond on the property and it was chock full of birds, again some familiar like indigo and painted buntings. So exciting to see where are breeding birds, party and hang out in the winter. I don't blame them for coming to Guatemala at all--beautiful and lots of seeds and insects to eat (Los Andes also have sunscreen and insect repellent ready to grab at a moment's notice). There was even a great-tailed grackle hunting and eating small lizards around the water.

This is a white-collard seedeater lurking in some of the grasses.

Check out this crazy looking bird! It's called a masked tityra. Follow this link for a better photo of one, so you can really see how striking this bird looks. I think there are some issues as to where this bird belongs in field guides. It used to be considered a tyrant flycatcher (those are the classy, somewhat easy to id flycatchers like kiskadees and scissor-tailed flycatchers, not the mind-numbingly hard to id empidonax flycatchers--incidentally, those are not all the same bird in that linked photo). However, there still seems to be some debate as to where it belongs, how to call that category and what other birds would fit in there. Bottom line, it's a crazy looking bird.

I saw many types of trogons while in Guatemala, but getting photos of them proved more challenging that i realized. Above is the beautiful backside of a violaceous trogon, perched in a tree right outside the lodge. We did explore other parts of the reserve and that is in a coming post. However, if you are looking for a place to do some relaxing birding, eat great local food, drink tea and coffee that is good for birds, and just visit with good people--Los Andes is it. Don't get me wrong, you can do hardcore birding and there are some strenuous trails here, but it was just such a joy to slowly work around the lodge itself and soak in so many colorful birds.

Even when it rained, you could stand at the window and enjoy the view.

More on the wonders of Los Andes later.

Best Little Breakfast Stop In Guatemala

If you ever have the fortune to find yourself near the Pacific Coast of Guatemala, one of the must stops should be Rincon Suizo in Tecpan, Guatemala.  Half the reason is the food, the other half is the birding potential!

I have to say that I had one of the best breakfasts of my whole entire life here.  Much of the food was pre-ordered for us on the road and this place was no exception.  The original meal  included beans, plantains, tortillas, eggs and hot sauce.  But when I entered the restaurant, all I could smell was bacon and I was a woman obsessed, I asked if it was possible to add bacon to my meal (I offered to pay extra) but they gave it to me--it was the best bacon I ever tasted, it was grilled.

The tortillas are out of this world too and I am forever spoiled.  Every place we went for a meal, whether it was breakfast, lunch or dinner, you heard the familiar patting of women preparting the thick, fresh delights, not like the thin, papery ones at my local grocery store.

We took a trail behind the restaurant which led to a clearing surrounded by a woods, full of wind and a little bit of cloud. Our quarry was a bird called a pink-headed warbler which just might be the snazziest warbler out there (which is saying something because in general most warblers are fairly snazzy to begin with).  The wind whipping through the trees, the slight howling was slightly ominous but only added to the adventure of the search, especially as we ascended the slopes and my heavy breathing and heartbeat just added to the sound.

There were quite a few familiar birds like this flock of rose-breasted grosbeaks.  At least three are in the above photo, two females and a male.  I wondered if any of this flock would make it up to Minnesota.  I normally write blog posts pretty much as they happen, but I'm enjoying doing these Guatemala posts so early in the Minnesota spring, even though I was there in February.  While I see on Facebook and Twitter that my birding friends in the southern US are getting warblers and sparrows, I'm still waiting, finding joy in highs of 40 degrees.  Looking back to Guatemala is a pleasure.

This was a hermit thrush that caused a bit of debate in our birding group.  When we first saw it at a distance, some in the group thought it was a gray-cheeked thrush.  It ended up being a hermit thrush, still a delightful bird, always happy to see a familiar face.

One of the cutest birds we saw was a tufted flycatcher, which is reminiscent of a tufted titmouse.  I have to say that will never be a hardcore lister because I just do not care about my flycatchers as much as I should (I am not one to put up a strong fight for a willow or alder flycatcher if it's in the fall and if you know what I mean by that reference, you know too much about birds).  But this dude is cute, easily distinguishable by its crest, and hangs out in the open making it easy to identify.

As I look at these photos, it's interesting to note that while we were here, I didn't get photos of colorful birds. Non Birding Bill would say that is natural since I don't pay attention to colorful birds, I'm only interested in brown birds.  But we saw some really cool colorful birds, one being a red-faced warbler (do follow the link, it's a great bird) and we did finally see the pink-headed warbler.  I just did not get a good photo.  Mike from 10,000 Birds got a pretty good shot of it though--isn't that just a dynamite bird?

It's also funny that I have so many brown bird photos because what struck me most about the native people was how important color is to their culture and to their day to day lives.  While we were birding in the woods, this group of women came out of the woods. I was a good distance away and digiscoped them. They were off to work probably in nearby fields and here they are in beautiful colorful dresses.

In many of the places we went birding, we would come across family groups of women going about their day to day lives. One of my favorite moments was coming out of the woods in pursuit of a bird and finding a group of Mayan women washing their clothes in a stream.  The vibrant clothes were spread to dry on the banks as they finished the wash and their small children played nearby.  A young girl, no more than four or five was holding her mother's machete.  I wanted to get a photo, but her mother shook her head, "No." I had to respect her wishes and completely understood.  I don't like my photo taken on laundry day either.

But color just played a huge roll in the day to day life of people in Guatemala.  I wondered what it must like for someone to come from a country like this were even a guy who sells buckets uses color in his merchandising comes to someplace like Minnesota and sees the winter where it's white and then early spring when it's several weeks of gray and brown--how monochromatic and hard to deal with!  That's got to be huge culture shock.

Fabulous Guatemala Hummingbirds At Cabana Suiza

I have some serious Guatemala blogging to catch up on! And this Sunday morning when I read that on the calendar that is was April 5, yet looked out the window and saw snow covering the ground, I was longing for those 10 days in that tiny country.  I wanted to think back to stopping at a coffee shop called Cabana Suissa where I got to savor tiny dudes like the berylline hummingbird above.

I mentioned earlier when I first came back that there were some digiscoping challenges due to shade and just not being used to the way the birds moved.  Above is a female cinnamon-bellied flowerpiercer, I couldn't get a great shot of one of those birds to save my life, but thank goodness for bird feeders providing predictable perches.

Here's that berryline again.  Check out those awesome hummingbird pants.  I'm used to the standard ruby-throated hummingbird with green on the back, white on the front and the males have that splash of red on the throat.  This guy is a gorgeous green, with glossy rust and bright white pants!  Although, if we're going to talk in ornithology terms, those white feathers are covering the toes and feet, so this hummingbird would have white socks.

The azure-crowned hummingbird also had some white pants going on, but not nearly to the degree that the berylline did.

While getting shots of the azure-crowned, I was able to see a bit more of the spectacular colors of the magnificent hummingbird behind it.  Note the purple, the emerald green on top of the other shiny greens of the white-eared hummingbird.

Here's a better shot of the white-eared in all its glory.  I was having such a blast getting photos of birds, I never made it into the coffee shop.  They guides were kind enough to grab the coffee for me and bring it out.

I could have spent all afternoon at Cabana Suiza, watching the none stop activity of the hummingbirds and getting photo after photo.  It was fantastic to be out with such great guides keeping us on the move to add birds to our list, but it's all a treat just to stop and savor great birds in great light.

Hey, check out this hummer.  This was the largest hummingbird that game into the feeders called a rufous saberwing--it was huge compared to the others, almost twice the size.  I felt if it were any bigger, it would have been lethal around our heads.  It was harder to get shots of the larger saberwing, it was more easily bullied by the smaller hummingbirds.

These are just some of the great birds that you can see in Guatemala.

More Fun At The Finca El Pilar

I'm trying to do the posts about Guatemala in order, but I may have to switch around. I really want to write about the horned guan experience, but that was later in our trip. I think when I finish up the El Pilar part, I'm gonna dive right into the guan. Writing is kind of like dieting. If you deprive yourself writing on a topic you are craving, you can't stop thinking about it and start to cheat on the project you think you should work on. Even though I have not blogged the guan here, I have "cheated" and talked about in the radio (I love that I got a radio station to post a horned guan photo on their site) and I've created a Facebook group dedicated to it. But we need to finish Finca El Pilar, a great place to visit if you are staying in Antigua. Needless to say, more on the guan is coming.

But back to Finca El Pilar, the shade-grown coffee farm that is being converted into a private nature reserve. It was exciting for me on many levels--I love coffee, I appreciate shade-grown coffee because of the habitat benefits to birds, and El Pilar was chock full of familiar birds like Wilson's warbler and the unfamiliar birds like bushy-crested jay.

Which, let's take a side not to the name bushy-crested jay. For the most part, the birds in Guatemala had fairly accurate names like ruddy foliage-gleaner. The bird was ruddy and appeared to glean foliage for insects (what kind of strange world is this where birds resemble their names?). I was beginning to think that would not be the case with the bushy-crested jay, it looked like a grackle with blue wings to me. However, I was informed that when excited, they do have a bushy crest and do live up to their name.

Part of the reason we were in Guatemala was part of a conference on tourism to the area. It was hosted at Finca El Pilar and they set up a gorgeous welcome breakfast for us on a wooden deck with canopy. In front of it was another smaller wooden deck with canopy that housed about a dozen hummingbird feeders that buzzed with crazy looking birds!

For me, this was a refreshing site since I come from the land of mono-hummer. All we really get in Minnesota is the ruby-throated hummingbird. Not that a ruby-throat is a shlub of a bird. It's cool, but what a treat to see a hummingbird suddenly flash a purple cap and green gorget! That's a magnificent hummingbird, living up to it's hyped name.

Let's a get a closer look. For a hummingbird, it's rather beefy. According to Sibley, a ruby-throated averages 3.75" and a magnificent averages 5.25". It's a species that does occur north of the Mexico border into the US, it's possible to see it in southern Arizona and Nevada.

These two beauties are an azure-crowned hummingbird on the left and a berylline hummingbird on the right.

Even though there were tons of feeders to go around, the birds would continuously fight. There would be periods of absolute silence, but then all of a sudden one would appear and dozens more would come out of the trees to jockey for position at a particular feeder.

One could easily spend the day planted at the hummingbird feeding station waiting for the light to strike their feathers at just the right moment to get the great flashes of color. While there, we also saw many other species like the golden-olive woodpecker and heard my new favorite bird call: the brown-back solitaire. I have to give Non Birding Bill some props--he put the solitaire on as my new ring tone. He may not be a birder, but he sure knows how to make one happy.

El Pilar also has a newly installed stair way down into the coffee farms. We had some of our guides drive us up and drop us off so we could take the stairs all the way down. I figured it would be a piece of cake, going down is way easier than going up. However, this Midwestern girl is used to a flatter landscape and I found my legs felt like they were make of Jell-O by the time we reached the bottom. It was well worth it, we had emerald toucanets, spot-crowned woodcreeper, yellowish flycatcher, and a whole host of warblers, including a personal favorite--black-throated green warbler and Townsend's warbler. If ever I saw a benefit of shade-grown coffee to birds who nest in my home country, it was in Guatemala.

Everything about the forest surrounding the coffee farm was interesting to me. I couldn't help but check out the erosion along the soil walls on the way down. We visited during a dry season, but past rain had left its mark.

When not birding the crap out of El Pilar, we listened to some great speakers about local wildlife and tour operators and sampled some of the coffee. We learned that ever since the certification program to designate a coffee farm as a "shade-grown" farm had been put into place, 98% off the coffee grown in Guatemala was shade-grown. Another incentive for me too make sure that label is on my coffee. I did notice that some farms were shady than others, but it beats no trees whatsoever.

How Would You Like These At Your Feeder?

A bird feeder at Los Tarrales in Guatemala. Would you like a blue-gray tanager and golden-fronted woodpecker coming?

Finca El Pilar Birding In Guatemala

Don't forget, there's still time to vote for your favorite guest blog entry! So, what the heck was I doing in Central America? I was part of the Fifth International Birdwatching Encounter in Guatemala. It was group that included bird guides and bloggers from Japan, Denmark, the US, and even Ecuador. One of the participants was Rick Wright of WINGS Birding Tours and I felt like I got some kind of great deal because he's a walking field guide. What a treat to have his bird knowledge along. He really is a birder's birder, we were talking popular culture and he didn't know what a Cosmo Quiz was. You want to be out in the field with a guy who has his head filled with the finer nuances of empidonax flycatchers as opposed to "What Kind Of Sexy Are You?"

Where do I begin with my Guatemala adventure? I think with volcanoes. This was the first time I had ever been to a place so chock full of volcanoes. Let's face it, this was the first time I'd been out of the country (at least to the point where a passport was required). The whole time, I kept looking around and asking myself, "How the heck did I get here?"

Our first day of birding was at Finca El Pilar, a private shade grown coffee farm being converted into a nature reserve. We went above the coffee farm to get some of the local specialties and incredible views of the surrounding volcanoes. We birded a few days here so I'll have lots to tell you.

Some of the volcanoes that we encountered during our visit, like Fuego are active and you can see little puffs of smoke coming off the top all day long. I digiscoped some of Fuego's smoke above. How can you not feel like you're not on an adventure if you're surrounded by active volcanoes?

I was expecting a complete and total sensory overload when it came to the birds, but was incredibly surprised by the number of familiar faces down there, like this eastern bluebird. It had a bit of a different accent than the eastern bluebirds I hear up in Minnesota and one of the guides mentioned that it was a more local variety, down to having a duller look than the bluebirds I'm used to. Still, the first few days, their calls really tripped me up.

When I wasn't seeing species I could see at home, I was at least seeing species similar to what I can see at home. There were all kinds of crazy looking thrushes, check out this pair of rufous-collared robins (be prepared for rufous to show up a lot in species names, whoever named the birds in Central America really liked that in their names). It's a highland thrush and looks similar to robins we see in the US.

Another somewhat familiar bird was the black-headed siskin, here's a pair above. While the siskin irruption still rages in the US, I was still able to see some siskins at El Pilar.

Check out this rufous-collared sparrow (there's that rufous again). It's a great looking bird, reminiscent of a white-throated sparrow. These birds were seen all over. Speaking sparrows we did see some introduced species like house sparrows and rock pigeons, but this was the first birding trip that I ever been on where I did not encounter one single starling. No starlings here...can you imagine? Ten days and not seeing a starling--crazy!

While we were doing all this birding, I at one point could have sworn I heard several bees buzzing. I looked and could not see any hives nearby. I started to wonder if elevation sickness was closing in or if my tinnitus had switched from its usual high pitched ring to buzzing. Then I noticed a small water basin and took a peak...

There they were, a small swarm of honeybees gathering water for the hive. You sometimes can get honeybees coming to birdbaths or ponds when it's try, water is necessary for comb construction. I asked the owner of El Pilar and he said that he did not keep bees, but perhaps they were his neighbor's bees. Or they very well could have been from a wild hive. It was fun to hear that familiar buzzing.

We found a camper while above the coffee farm and I got a giggle at the Ron Paul sticker on the back. I didn't know anyone in Guatemala would be pro Ron Paul?

And now it is time for me to head into the Park Service. More on Finca El Pilar and Guatemala later.

And don't forget to vote for your favorite guest blog entry!

Digiscoping Challenges

Hello blog readers! Or should I say hola lectores del blog? I am back from my Guatemala birding adventure and am sorting through photos. I want to thank everyone who entered the guest blogging contest. There were many fantastic blog entries and I'm sorry that we couldn't post them all. Be sure to check out the voting for the top ten and select the entry you liked best (I'm having readers decide because Non Birding Bill and I had a tough enough time picking the top ten, let alone the best of all 53 entries).

I had a great time and learned something very interesting while birding in Central America: digiscoping is really hard! I'm pretty good at digiscoping, I'm fortunate to be able to do it often and I'm very familiar with my equipment. I can set up the shot and get my camera on the right settings without really thinking about it. I'm also very familiar with North American birds, I can sometimes predict how they will move on a perch to get a shot.

It was not the same in Guatemala, I had all new vegetation to figure out and the birds moved in different ways.

When I give digiscoping workshops, one of the things I hear the most is how someone can't get their equipment to work--usually because they've taken (at most) 20 photos that all turned out crappy and they don't understand why. You have to take dozens, if not hundreds of photos to get one decent shot. The more you work with your equipment, the more prepared you will be when a bird shows up and in the "perfect" pose. I've helped out at enough optics booths to know that many people buy their scope and digiscoping equipment right before they leave for a trip of a lifetime, barely enough time to get familiar with their equipment. If I had a tough time, how could someone with new equipment possibly get anything good going to a new area, with new birds, and not know how to work the camera and scope?

So, here are some conclusions that I came to while birding in Guatemala:

First, I had to pick my battles. I figured out quickly that I was going to be in sensory overload being around so many new species. The group we were with was very much a listing group, not so much a photography look. We'd try like the dickens to see certain species, but not really try for photos. So, when a cool ass bird like a pink-headed warbler was found, I needed to decide, "Do I want to try and aim the scope on a warbler, quite possibly missing it completely or do I want to really savor and watch this amazingly colorful warbler?" With most new species, I chose to watch the bird instead of trying to digiscope it. I did go for the pink headed warbler after a minute and the best I got was the above photo. You can see part of its head and vent from behind a leaf in the above photo.

Second, the lighting conditions in the neotropics were rather crappy. In the forest canopy, it's shady and many birds had a knack for perching with the sun directly behind them. Add incredibly tall trees and precarious scope angles and you end up with a blurry shot of a collared trogon (above).

However, there were many times when birds perched nearby, the lighting was not too bad and I could get that great shot of a berylline hummingbird--right down to its little white socks. So, I didn't get photos of every single bird (or even very good ones) but I do have some great stories and amazing birds to share.

Found A Teeny Bit Of Connection In Tecpan

A tiny interruption from the contest.

I just wanted to put in a video of my favorite part of Guatemala thus far. It's the song of a brown-backed solitaire echoing through the mountains. The Spanish name for this bird is protector de la barranca which means "canyon guard". It's more of a siren song to me, calling you into the forest for adventure. In the first part you'll hear a rufus-collared thrush and at about 4 seconds, you'll hear the solitaire!