These photos were taken in July 2007 at a beautiful birders’ paradise on the southern slope of Volcán Atitlán.

I use a 60mm Nikon field scope with a 30 x 24 lens. My Nikon Coolpix 7900 fits into an adaptor and then slides nicely onto the scope, and the adaptor comes with a cable release. This is called digiscoping; I get all my optics from Eagle Optics. Their phone number is posted on the site; ask for Mike McDowell, who is an expert digiscoper, and has a fabulous website.

Resplendent Quetzal — Quetzal Centroamericano (Pharomachrus moccinno)

This female Quetzal was very high up and difficult to photograph. She had her back to us and is looking over her left wing. These birds nest in remote parts of Guatemala and other Central American countries. They are very timid, quiet and secretive, as this photograph expresses — she was “watching her back.”

This photo was taken on a field trip to Los Andes Reserve with a fabulous guide and good friend, Hugo Haroldo Enriquez Toledo.

Ferruginous Pygmy Owl — Tecolotito Común (Glaucidium brasilianum)

 

Blue-tailed Hummingbird — Colibrí Coliazul (Amazilia cyanura)

This hummer is endemic to the southeastern corner of Chiapas, Mexico
and the northern Pacific Slope of Central America

Violet Sabrewing — Fandangero Morado (Campylopterus hemileucurus)

The common Spanish name for the Violet Sabrewing in Costa Rica is Ala de Sable Violáceo, which is a very literal English-to-Spanish translation. In the Handbook of the Birds of the World its common name is Colibrí Morado. The more I read of the Handbook of the Birds of the World, the more I agree with it.

The Violet Sabrewing is one of the largest hummingbirds, has a very loud, unmistakable buzzing and clicking sound, and is spectacular to watch. This one was feeding on the flower of a banana tree.

Heliconia spp.

Hummingbirds feast on these wild plants

A Trip Report from Los Andes Reserve

Patulul, Guatemala

July 2–4, 2007

Here are the coordinates for Patulul:
Latitude: 14.4166667
Longitude: –91.1666667

Carol Anderson
Hugo Haroldo Enriquez Toledo
— a guide and a friend

I took the boat over from San Pedro La Laguna and met Hugo in Santiago. From there it’s about an hour and a half to the entrance to Los Andes. We went through San Lucas Tolimán, a quaint village where the native traje (clothing) of the women was strikingly beautiful.

We passed Los Tarrales, another eco-reserve, and then came to the turn-off to Los Andes. It was a dirt road at best, a full hour, four-wheel drive, extremely bumpy, and some severely eroded and dangerous turns. If you are over fifty and have a bad back, the journey up this road is something to contend with.

And I want to express something here about erosion control as we know it in the United States. The Guatemalans do not understand erosion control. When they build roads they take a backhoe and cut the road and do nothing to prevent the hillside above from sliding down onto the road with a good rain or two. There have been innumerable car accidents, and entire villages have been lost in mudslides in this country, yet they do not seem to learn from their mistakes. (Of course, I can think of hundreds of environmental mistakes made in the United States that were ignored until the shit was on the doorstep, and even then . . .) To a certain extent, Guatemala as a land is very fortunate, because it is lush and green and full of rivers and water and alluvial soil, such that the vegetation springs back with incredible resiliency. But it is a rugged terrain, and the risks are huge when you take to the road.

All these thoughts were going through my mind as Hugo and I drove over rock and mud on that road to Los Andes.

We went through some very small pueblos and rubber plantations before arriving at the coffee and tea plantation where the main house is. All of the pueblos we passed through were comprised of very poor people who work on the various plantations, and it’s subsistence living and profound poverty. I have never thought of a “reserve” as being in the midst of agriculture. Agriculture is a promise for converted land, pesticide use and clearcut forests. In the rubber plantations, they scrape the bark of the tree just enough to make it bleed into a small cup that is attached to the tree, but not so much that it actually kills the tree. And it goes without saying that when you are on a rubber plantation, all you are going to see is rubber trees for miles; they are bereft of any avian life that I could see, and it is also a very dark landscape.

But there is a comparison here: the refuges in the Central Valley of California, Merced National Wildlife Refuge and San Luis National Wildlife Refuges, are in the midst of agriculture, and the water is all controlled through dikes and levees. The duck hunters and their left arm, the Department of Fish and Game, maintain these wetlands to provide habitat for wintering waterfowl. Snow geese have shown up in the thousands, along with several other species of ducks, ibis, storks and waterbirds. Hunting season opens in early October and closes around the first of January. During that time, six-figure numbers of waterfowl killed are tabulated and published every year. After hunting season closes, these refuges open to birdwatchers and incredibly, despite the hunting, they still harbor numbers of waterfowl, raptors, and loggerhead shrikes, to name a few. I must admit I have loved visiting these refuges. But it always went down sideways, and I always felt somewhat strangled by the volume of birds legally killed by duck hunters. Birdwatching in the midst of agriculture is a reality in these refuges. But at Los Andes, you are traveling up and out of the agriculture to the edge of the forest. And from there it is a completely new and different habitat. I think of it as jungle birding.

The arrival at the main house, Los Andes, is spectacular. It is huge and beautiful with fully landscaped gardens, swimming pool, acres of lawn, and teeming with birds, in such stark contrast to the road that takes you there. They had flowering ginger, heliconias, orchids, all types of fruit trees and flowering clavel, mistletoe, hibiscus and magnolia, to name a few. Rufous and Violet Sabrewings greeted us, and the Blue-tailed Hummingbird is present in large numbers. Many Clay-colored Robins, Social Flycatchers, Great Kiskadees, Green-throated Mountain Gems, to name only a few. I don’t know if the yard was intentionally planted for hummingbirds, but it certainly seemed like it. It never ceases to amaze me how lush and green and overgrown Guatemala is. Many trees were enveloped with twisting, parasitic vines that crept to the top and opened up in orange blossoms that the birds and butterflies rejoiced in. Other trees had epiphytes, orchids, passion flower and other intensely beautiful plants growing on and around and over them. And the hummingbird feeders that were up attracted the Blue-tailed Hummingbirds, who perched right outside my bedroom door.

The interior of the house is right out of an Isabel Allende novel, with a large kitchen and an antique wood cooking stove, countless bedrooms and bathrooms, and truly exquisite and ornate décor. Beautiful Guatemalan rugs, fireplace, long dining-room table, and portraits of the generations on the walls.

The first little birding trip Hugo and I did was a walk from the house down a small trail to a couple of benches where we could park our tripods and look around in the forest. Hugo spotted four Ferruginous Pygmy Owls, which are about seven inches tall; a bird I had never seen before. He set up my tripod on a slope (something I am not accustomed to doing) and I was able to take several photos (digiscoping), some of which were miraculously in focus. The next morning we were up at five and loaded into a luxurious four-wheel drive pickup that was new, and had excellent shock absorbers (praise Buddha), and we wound up through fields of tea and some coffee to the border where the agriculture stops and the forest begins. In ecological terms, we were at the edge. I saw no birds in the tea fields and only a few in the coffee, much of which was shade grown. I mention this because my picture of what a reserve is differs so vastly from what was presented at Los Andes. But the minute we hit the forest edge we could hear the birds calling, and I thought of Attenborough’s The Life of Birds, because it sounded like the alarm went off as these loud calls rang through the forest: “Intruders are coming, intruders are coming!”

Hugo birds by ear, and listed off a number of species of wrens and woodcreepers that were heard but not seen. Groups of Pacific and Green Parakeets flew overhead making loud chatter. I thought, no wonder it was easy to take parrots and parakeets into captivity, they are such noisy, fussy and conspicuous birds.

We hiked about fifteen minutes up through the forest to a landing with a handmade treehouse/blind, and a male and female Resplendent Quetzal were present. I managed to get some pictures of the female, but only because Hugo set up my tripod at an angle my neck could barely fathom — looking straight up at the top of the canopy. The iridescence of this beautiful bird glittered in the sunlight and was magnetic, my gaze frozen. We saw Emerald Toucanets as well, several jays, a local warbler and many others. Hugo and I hauled the gear up the ladder to the blind, and from this view we saw three or four Crested Guans arrive, which are like huge turkeys landing in the forest canopy. Their arrival made a racket; trees swayed, and fruit, twigs and leaves dropped to the forest floor in a great clatter of noise, all very exciting, really. But that was the last we saw of the Quetzals, who probably moved to a less conspicuous, private area where they could hide in peace.

We returned to the house; it poured buckets and I was exhausted, but it gave Hugo and me a chance to sit and talk about all we’d seen. I should mention that a researcher, Claudia Burgos, was also there with her adorable nephew. She is studying the Resplendent Quetzal. They put up about forty-five nest boxes last year, and at least one is being used by the Quetzals. They are hole nesters, so they face they same problems woodpeckers and other hole nesters face — loss of appropriate habitat to nest in.

When the rain cleared I spent some time teaching the gardener how to clean and do the upkeep on the hummingbird feeders (I was asked to do this). We put up fresh food in fully clean feeders; the Blue-tailed Hummingbirds were waiting, and it made for an excellent photo opportunity which I exploited. It was just lovely to be able to set up my scope on level ground. There is a small patch of banana trees behind the house; the Violet Sabrewing loves the purple flowers that dangle beneath the ripening fruit, and I was able to get a few photos of it. The Violet Sabrewing is one of the most beautiful hummingbirds I have ever seen. It has a long decurved bill, and its body appears black until the sun hits; then there’s a purple sheen, and large white corners on the outer tail feathers. The Rufous Sabrewing is another large and gorgeous hummingbird that was present. If you can imagine the sound of your local hummingbird, the wing buzz, with the Violet Sabrewings it was ten times amplified, more like a loud clicking, and you could hear them coming.

The last day was back up to the forest to see the Quetzals, but they were not there. And I learned something about myself right then. I wanted a happy ending to my story. Period. I didn’t want to deal in depth with birds who were losing habitat or being caged for life. I can’t stand the fate of birds such as the Scarlet Macaw, who have been driven to the point of extinction because people put them in cages. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life looking for birds who are on their way off the planet or fated to some doomsday extinction. I just want to do my part and realize some inner contentment with my contribution.

And hummingbirds provide the key. They aren’t kept in captivity, although I’ve read of some kept in aviaries; they love landscaped gardens, they serve an enormous purpose in the pollination chain, and they don’t seem to be easily disturbed by people or even other birds. Here in San Pedro La Laguna we are overrun with Great-tailed Grackles, who are the Guatemalan equivalent of crows. They harass all the other birds. I’ve watched them drive off Kingfishers and even Great Blue Herons. But the hummingbirds evade their notice. There are approximately 330 species of Hummingbirds, and most of them are in Central and South America. There is a huge gap in avian research when it comes to hummingbirds, and it is work that I am interested in and willing to lend a hand to. This was my epiphany.

That godawful road on the way down from Los Andes was wet and slippery from the rain; I just looked out my window and refrained from applying the brakes on my side of the jeep. We both had our binoculars, and occasionally stopped to see who was peeping; we caught the Blue-black Grassquit and a Bar-winged Oriole.

Hugo and I never stopped talking birds all the way back to Santiago. He is a part of the Avitourism group that is trying to promote birdwatching in Guatemala. But he sees the problems. My god, the trash everywhere . . . I go down on the beach in front of my cottage almost daily with a large garbage bag and I pick up the garbage, mostly plastic, tossed carelessly by those who don’t understand the consequences. I don’t have to worry about my job ever being done, because one good rain or one windy day brings another big load of garbage to my beach. I don’t buy any drinks in plastic bottles. I buy my mineral water by the case, in bottles that can be recycled; I get my taxi driver to help me lug them up and down from my house, and I give big tips. Hugo also refuses plastic. We try to be careful consumers. Just a drop in the bucket when we pondered actually coordinating this country into caring about the environment and making it suitable and attractive to international birdwatchers. Oh my god, for me it strikes at the core of what I’ve already seen and done in the United States, and little Guatemala is just at the beginning of seeing some terrible environmental consequences. But but but but but . . .

Explaining to Hugo my perceptions of the reserve amidst the agriculture juxtaposed with the beauty of the forest once you’re up there . . . and I still don’t know how I really feel about all of it. We were on the slopes of the volcano Atitlán, well within the watershed of Lago Atitlán which still survives as a viable, surprisingly clean lake supporting all the people, agriculture and subsequent environmental degradation you can imagine around it . . . but for how long will it continue to do so? Few understand what a watershed is and how connected all the little villages around the caldera that formed Lago Atitlán truly are. Electric lines everywhere (good god don’t look up) Where, pray tell, someone help me, where do we start?

Another perception: there is a very disturbing lack of predatory birds in Guatemala. I have read this from others and I know it for myself. One of the things Hugo talked about was that each farm generates its own electricity. I remembered when we were watching the owls how the electric lines ran down at a severe angle into the power source for Los Andes. I am only opining here, but the way the electricity is generated both in the rural areas and in the towns, it’s an unimaginable hodgepodge of wires, and my intuitions say a lot of big birds get fried. All birds are experiencing loss of habitat — but you see hawks and falcons almost everywhere in California. Here, even at Los Andes, Hugo spotted a solitary Short-tailed Hawk and heard a Black-hawk Eagle. I saw nothing but vultures.

Hugo took me all the way to the dock in Santiago and waited for a half hour until the boat to San Pedro La Laguna took off. We waved and waved goodbye — two earthlings in love with birds and an incredible amount of work to be done — another long journey to contend with.

From the very first time I laid eyes on Lago Atitlán, and this time as well, I had that incredible, inward sense of a calling, a love, a happiness. I am enveloped in the beauty I live in — the inexplicable, mysterious lure to Lago Atitlán without question has me in its grip. Having been gone only three days, it was an inward celebration to return.

*     *     *

Here is the species report to eBird, for those interested in the 69 species we tabulated at Los Andes reserve:

Location:	Los Andes Reserva
Observation date:	7/3/07
Notes:	I was with an excellent guide from Guatemala.
Number of species:	69

Crested Guan	4	Blue-tailed Hummingbird	4	Plain Wren	3
Singing Quail	4	Green-throated Mountain-gem	2	House Wren	4
Green Heron	1	Resplendent Quetzal	2	White-breasted Wood-Wren	1
Black Vulture	9	Blue-throated Motmot	1	Brown-backed Solitaire	2
Turkey Vulture	6	Emerald Toucanet	4	Orange-billed Nightingale-Thrush	1
Short-tailed Hawk	2	Golden-fronted Woodpecker	2	Clay-colored Robin	14
Black Hawk-Eagle	1	Golden-olive Woodpecker	1	White-throated Robin	1
American Kestrel	1	Lineated Woodpecker	1	Tropical Mockingbird	2
Red-billed Pigeon	6	Spotted Woodcreeper	1	Slate-throated Redstart	1
Band-tailed Pigeon	4	Northern Bentbill	1	Golden-crowned Warbler	2
White-winged Dove	3	Common Tody-Flycatcher	1	Yellow-winged Tanager	3
Common Ground-Dove	4	Stub-tailed Spadebill	1	Blue-black Grassquit	2
White-tipped Dove	2	Black Phoebe	1	White-collared Seedeater	10
Green Parakeet	14	Great Kiskadee	2	Prevost’s Ground-Sparrow	2
Pacific Parakeet	20	Social Flycatcher	4	Grayish Saltator	4
Squirrel Cuckoo	1	Tropical Kingbird	2	Melodious Blackbird	4
Groove-billed Ani	2	Masked Tityra	3	Great-tailed Grackle	8
Ferruginous Pygmy-Owl	4	Steller’s Jay	2	Bronzed Cowbird	6
White-collared Swift	30	Bushy-crested Jay	4	Bar-winged Oriole	1
Vaux’s Swift	25	Black-capped Swallow	12	Spot-breasted Oriole	1
Rufous Sabrewing	4	Rufous-naped Wren	1	Yellow-throated Euphonia	2
Violet Sabrewing	2	Spot-breasted Wren	1	Blue-crowned Chlorophonia	1
Black-crested Coquette	1	Rufous-and-white Wren	1	Lesser Goldfinch	6

This report was generated automatically by eBird v2