Roger and I could easily write another ten or twelve posts about our recent birding adventures to Colombia, but I thought it would be fun to pack a lot of our experiences into a video featuring our main destination down there, the Araucana Lodge. The video not only introduces you to the joys of lodge birding, but features some of the famous birds and birding opportunities to be had in the mountains above Cali. Since large files don’t always work well on this blog host, we embed a YouTube link below. Let us know what you think—and enjoy the show!
Click Here to see the first of our Colombian birding post!
Note: This blog post—and all others on FatherSonBirding—are written by REAL PEOPLE! No compensation or gratuities were provided to us in connection with this post. If you’d like to support FSB, please consider buying one—or ten—of Sneed’s books and contributing to a bird conservation organization of your choice. Thank you!
Our second morning at Owl’s Watch ecolodge, Roger and I felt particularly excited. Although we’d had a great day birding on our own the day before (see post Owl’s Watch Ecolodge Colombia Birding Part 2), this would be the first time we went out with an expert guide. We met Owl’s Watch owner, Dennis Bailey, at 6:00 a.m. at the Social, the lodge’s main meeting building, and he served us coffee and a snack. Then, we climbed into his pickup and he drove us up to the Enchanted Forest. This was an area of cloud forest at the top of his property, where he and his team had developed a nice trail system complete with hidden gnomes associated with an information guide about the ecosystem. This is also where we met Daniel Muñoz Buitrago, our Colombian guide for the day.
Our guide Daniel (right) posing with one of the educational gnomes set up along the trail.
Both Roger and I liked Daniel immediately, and he began our tour by walking us along the road above the forest. “This is often where mixed flocks of tanagers can be found,” he explained, and sure enough, it wasn’t long before he started calling out names: Blue-capped Tanager, Saffron-crowned Tanager, Beryl-spangled Tanager, and one I especially hoped to see—Grass Green Tanager. This bird sports a stunning green color with a vividly contrasting red mask across its face.
One of my favorite tanagers of the trip, a Grass Green Tanager, backlit in the top of a tree.
Along with the tanagers, Daniel called out names of warblers, wrens, woodcreepers, and other birds. We glimpsed some of these, but I must pause here to say a word about what it’s like to bird in tropical forests. Many people see fabulous photos of tropical birds and naturally assume that these birds will be dripping from every branch. Unfortunately, tropical forest birding can often be very challenging. Many birds never show themselves at all and are “heard only” species, identifiable only by their songs and calls—and yes, Merlin’s Sound ID still has a long way to go to become accurate in places like Colombia. Many other birds can be seen—but mainly high in the tree tops against gray, backlit conditions. This makes it tough to get good views through binoculars, and darned well impossible to capture good photos. Daniel, though, was about to greatly improve our “photography problem.”
Brushfinches are difficult to see in any conditions, but we did get lucky with this look at a beautiful Gray-browed Brushfinch along the road.
Heading into the Enchanted Forest, he took us down to a set of bird of feeders and began hanging bananas and grapes from various wires and branches. In no time, one of the forest’s most spectacular birds showed up—an Andean Motmot! We had glimpsed this bird on the drive in two nights before, but were delighted to have this additional excellent, intimate look.
Andean Motmot.
After we’d filled our share of camera memory space with the motmot, Daniel motioned us to follow him fifty meters down the trail. Even before we arrived, he started calling “Brownie, where are you? Come out, come out!”—or the equivalent in Spanish. As he did so, he set a few worms on a little fallen log about fifteen feet in front of us. Soon, he said, “Get ready. He’s coming!”
Moments later, a brown, football-shaped bird about ten centimeters (4 inches) high hopped up out of nowhere. “There he is!” Daniel cooed.
The “he” in this story was a Brown-banded Antpitta, one of Colombia’s most difficult-to-photograph species—and about as adorable as you can get. Its appearance was no accident, either. Daniel had trained the bird for months to respond to his calls—and the worms. I, for one, was grateful because I never imagined I’d get to see an antpitta in the wild. Not only are they very secretive, they often have very restricted ranges. In fact, the Brown-banded Antpitta is classified as Vulnerable due to habitat loss, and little is known about its biology and behavior.
“Brownie”, the Brown-banded Antpitta.These birds are extremely difficult to observe, but thanks to patient “trainers” like Daniel, lucky visitors like us occasionally get to see them.
We left Daniel to “clean up” after Brownie and walked back to the feeders. As I was about to step into the clearing, however, I hissed, “Roger, stop!” There, perched on a feeder branch only seven or eight meters away, sat one of the other birds we especially hoped to see—Black-billed Mountain-Toucan! Roger quickly snapped some excellent photos, but I managed only a couple of crummy ones before the bird flew. Still, it was the only BBMT we would see on the trip.
Snooze, you lose. Due to having my camera on incorrect settings, I managed only a poor shot of this Black-billed Mountain-Toucan before it fled with its fruity booty.
Back on the road, we made our way through cloudy conditions down to the trail that left from the parking area above the lodge (see previous post). We returned to the hummingbird viewing platform and immediately saw a species that got Daniel excited: an uncommon hummingbird called a White-throated Daggerbill. Of course, there were also eleven other species of hummingbirds as well (always, always, hummingbirds), but unbeknownst to us, we were about to meet one of the coolest birds that we’d ever seen.
After a few minutes watching the hummingbird action, Daniel motioned us to follow him down to another little spot about thirty meters away. Here he again pulled out his worm bag and began calling, “Gordita! Gordita! Come out!” Gordita, of course, means “little fat one” in Spanish, and both Roger and I chuckled. But who exactly was Gordita?
R2D2? No, meet Gordita—a Chestnut-crowned Antpitta that quickly hopped into our hearts.
After a few moments, out hopped one of the most remarkable birds I’d ever seen. It was another antpitta—this one, a Chestnut-crowned Antpitta! The bird was about twice the size of Brownie the Brown-banded Antpitta and to me it looked just like a little R2 unit from Star Wars. In an instant, it became one of my favorite birds ever, and I’m pretty sure Roger felt the same way.
Daniel’s surprises weren’t over. Continuing on down the trail, he called in another remarkable bird—a Rufous-Crowned Tody-Flycatcher. At least three or four of these would easily fit into your hand, but again, we never would have seen it without Daniel’s knowledge and expertise.
Rufous-capped Tody-Flycatcher.
Which brings up an important point about Colombian birding. While it is possible to bird on your own in Colombia, I highly recommend taking advantage of its growing network of lodges. Although much safer than it used to be, the country does still have its share of problems, ranging from common crime and armed conflict to dangerous road and trail conditions. Taking advantage of the expertise of lodges will help make sure you don’t accidentally wander into a hazardous area. Even better, the lodges we encountered use locally-trained, Colombian guides. Many, like Daniel, speak excellent English, and prices are extremely reasonable. By hiring them, foreign visitors are giving a boost to the local economy—and creating more incentive to protect Colombia’s environment.
After getting our fill of the tody-flycatcher, Daniel led us back down to the Social for a well-deserved (or at least well-received) lunch prepared by the Owl’s Watch cook, David. It had been a splendid day all-around and we so appreciated everything Daniel had shown us. Even better, we were excited to have one more day of birding at Owl’s Watch. That, however, didn’t keep us from eagerly anticipating our next great Colombian lodge destination—which I’ll introduce in the next post!
Roger and our guide, Daniel, birding the road above Owl’s Watch.
As light spread across the sky, I slipped on my flip-flops and ventured out onto the porch of our cabin at Owl’s Watch Ecolodge in the department (county) of Caldas, Colombia. Misty clouds clung to the Andean peaks surrounding us. Far below rose the high-rise apartments and businesses of Manizales, a city of almost half a million. Unidentified bird calls rang across the vegetation surrounding us and a couple of flocks of Eared Doves flew by on a morning commute. Suddenly, I saw a shape that stirred familiarity. It landed in a distant tree, but thanks to my amazing new binoculars, I was able to focus in on it. Even though I knew very little about Colombian birds, the way it clung to the side of the tree made me think, “Woodpecker.” Then, I caught a reddish hue on its nape and back, and my excitement rose. When it turned its head, it revealed a large white face patch that clinched the ID. I couldn’t believe it. In my first moments of serious birding in Colombia, I had found one of the birds I most wanted to see: a Crimson-mantled Woodpecker!
It’s risky to post such a crummy photo of a Crimson-mantled Woodpecker as the post’s very first bird shot, but it highlights how difficult it often is to photograph birds in tropical forests—a topic I’ll discuss in a forthcoming post.
As mentioned in my last post, “Layover Birding in Bogota, Colombia”, I had traveled to South America at the last-minute invitation of my friend and FSB contributor, Roger Kohn. Now, only two weeks later, I felt in awe of the fact that we were actually here, about to launch into our first Colombian day of birding together.
One of the two luxurious cabins at Owl’s Watch, with great views of the surrounding landscape. As popularity of the lodge blossoms, Dennis is considering adding additional cabins.
Roger had planned our entire itinerary, which included booking our first four nights here at Owl’s Watch, a comfortable new lodge with two modern cabins perched at the edge of a large, protected watershed that ensured a dependable water supply for the city of Manizales below. The lodge had been built by American expat Dennis Bailey and his Colombian wife, Adriana. Interested in restoring land that had been cleared for agricultural activities, they had purchased a farm, or finca, that was an inholding of the nearby protected area. As they worked to revegetate the land and allow it to heal itself, they decided to build Owl’s Watch for nature lovers—especially birders.
The following day, we would be heading out with a guide, but today Roger had wisely allocated time for us to bird and explore on our own—a day to get familiar with some of the local birds and rest up from our two-day journeys from the States. I’m more of an early riser than Roger, but to my surprise, he soon joined me on the porch, eager to get started.
One of the amazing things about Owl’s Watch is that you are able to gaze down on Manizales, a city of almost half a million people, while being surrounded by nature.
We decided to begin by climbing the long steep “driveway” that headed up from the lodge to the road above. Almost immediately we saw large turkey-like birds that, from taking eBird quizzes, I recognized as Sickle-winged Guans. Moments later, I glimpsed a furtive shape fly across an opening and dive into a bush—a White-naped Brushfinch.
At the top of the drive, we reached a small parking area bristling with even more activity. In the trees surrounding the area, we quickly identified the orange head of a Blackburnian Warbler, and then got super excited to see a pair of equally small birds with bold, sunburst golden throats and breasts—Golden-fronted Redstarts!
Golden-fronted Redstarts, a New World warbler, were one of our exciting finds from our first day of birding at Owl’s Watch.
As I chased these around, Roger used Sound ID to get onto a bird I never thought we would see, Azara’s Spinetail. Its call sounded like “bis-QUICK! bis-Quick!” and while we never got great looks at it, we were thrilled to get a glimpse of this handsome, skulky species.
Collared Inca (named after me and Braden)Bronzy Inca
From the parking area, we headed down a pleasant trail that would wind its way back to the to the main lodge building, dubbed “the Social.” Soon, a covered viewing platform came into sight and we paused to check out hummingbirds at the feeders and flowering bushes surrounding the spot. Someday, I’ll write about my ambivalence about hummingbirds, but I gotta say, they were spectacular to watch. What got me most excited was seeing a White-sided Flowerpiercer. I’d seen my very first flowerpiercer only the day before in Bogota, and here I was, looking at a second species the very next day!
Though not as colorful as many other tropical birds, I was especially excited to discover this White-sided Flowerpiercer. Notice the hook at the end of the bill? That’s a key to picking out flowerpiercers from other small tropical birds.
We continued hiking down the trail, past the Secret Garden, another great birdwatching spot Dennis had set up. Along the way, I spotted a rather plain brown bird that I quickly recognized as a Swainson’s Thrush. As I indicated in my last post, it’s a special thrill to see a bird from “back home” in its alternative, wintering environment. I also took a photo of a nondescript bird that turned out to be a Mountain Elaenia, a kind of tyrant flycatcher.
Don’t get me wrong. I am NOT an expert at identifying flycatchers, but a guide and the Merlin app helped me figure out this Mountain Elaenia.
Soon, we found ourselves back at the Social. David, the fabulous Owl’s Watch cook, fixed us a scrumptious breakfast and we dined while enjoying yet more hummingbirds—at least nine species—along with more flowerpiercers, Rufous-collared Sparrows, and Great Thrushes.
Along with the hummingbird feeders, Dennis’s crew had set up a fruit feeder off to the side, and there we beheld one of the most spectacular of the area’s birds, Blue-winged Mountain Tanagers.
Blue-winged Mountain Tanagers were definitely one of the “best-dressed” birds of our first day birding at Owl’s Watch.
After we got our fill of hummingbirds (if that’s even possible), we took another path that wound around to our cabin. Before our trip, Braden had encouraged me to listen for weird noises, and now I did indeed hear a very bizarre, almost plaintive, series of falling notes. As we rounded a corner, we met the source of these calls—a Masked Trogon! Trogons are some of those birds you always hope to see in the tropics, but when you finally do, you’re left wondering if the bird is really perched there in front of you, or if you’re just imagining it! Fortunately, this was no mirage, and even better, it sat cooperatively while Roger and I did our best to capture decent photos of it against the backlit sky. How did we do? You will have to judge for yourself:
Even this so-so photo reveals what stunning birds Masked Trogons are. While this was our best look at this species of the trip, other trogons would soon follow!
Note: This blog post—and all others on FatherSonBirding—are written by REAL PEOPLE! No compensation or gratuities were provided to us in connection with this post. If you’d like to support FSB, please consider buying one—or ten—of Sneed’s books and contributing to a bird conservation organization of your choice. Thank you!
“Call me asap,” Roger’s text read. A few minutes later, I dialed his number. “What’s up?”
The answer: a chance of a lifetime.
As faithful FSB readers know, Roger is a longtime friend of mine from UC Berkeley, and a guest contributor to FatherSonBirding. More than six months ago Roger and his wife, Claudia, began planning a dream birding trip to the world’s epicenter of awesome birding—the country of Colombia. How awesome is Colombia? Well, during the Global Big Day of birding each year, Colombia regularly kicks butt on all challengers. In 2024, its birders recorded an astounding 1558 species in a single 24-hour period—more than twice the number of the US despite submitting only about 15% of the number of checklists. It is widely considered to have the highest biodiversity per square meter of any country on earth.
Great Thrush and Eared Dove . . .are two of the first birds you’re likely to see in Bogota!
Sadly, Colombia has a long history of violence that has made it mostly off-limits to birders for decades. That began to change in 2016, when a peace agreement was signed between the government and FARC, the military wing of the Colombian Communist Party. Violence still racks some parts of the country, but that has not prevented a growing number of birders from seizing the chance to visit one of the world’s most spectacular ecological regions. About six months ago, Roger decided to join those growing ranks. He and Claudia mapped out a two-week trip that would include a feast of birding opportunities. However, as the great oracle of our time, Neil Young, sang, “The devil fools with the best-laid plans.” Two weeks before their trip, Claudia was forced to cancel, and Roger asked if I wanted to fill her slot. With a quick nod from Amy and the urging of Tessa, it took me about two minutes to decide.
The plan was to meet up in the Andean city of Pereira to begin our birding adventure (of which I’ll write much more later). Roger planned to fly from his home in Bend, Oregon to Miami and spend the night; then fly to Pereira via Panama City the following day. Being a Delta Airlines loyalist, I left a day earlier, spent the night in Atlanta and then flew to Bogota for a night. This excited me greatly because it would give me a morning to myself before catching a flight to Pereira to meet Roger. Gee, what oh what might I do with that morning?
Simon Bolivar Park, Bogota.
Not by accident, I booked a room in the Hotel Capital, strategically located a short taxi ride to two major birding possibilities. Rising early, I wolfed down a granola bar for breakfast and then caught a cab to Parque Metropolitano Simón Bolívar, one of the world’s largest urban parks. In my atrocious Spanish, I told the cab driver of my interest in birds and he dropped me off at the SW corner of the park near a large central lake. I had worried a bit about carrying my camera and binoculars in this unfamiliar city, but my hotel concierge had assured me the park would be safe. Sure enough, I was relieved to see a steady stream of joggers, dog walkers, and cyclists taking advantage of a beautiful sunny morning. But what of the birds?
As I walked toward the lake, I saw plenty of Great Thrushes and Eared Doves, and Sound ID picked up the songs of Rufous-collared Sparrows, a bird Braden and I had become friends with on our family trip to Ecuador and Peru in 2017.
Like a birder magnet, however, the lake drew me forward. When approaching a large body of water like this, I always look for legions of water birds to be gracing the water, and in Japan and last year’s trip to Barcelona, that had indeed been the case. Not today. Evidently, ducks just aren’t as big a deal in the tropics as in temperate zones. I did spot what looked like a domestic hybrid duck of some sort, accompanied by a much smaller bird, and I focused in on the latter for the day’s first surprise—a Pied-billed Grebe! “I didn’t know they lived this far south,” I thought. Indeed, I later learned that in the Americas, Pied-billed Grebes have the largest distribution of any grebe, stretching from mid-Canada almost to the tip of South America.
Pied-billed Grebes have the widest distribution of any American grebes.
A hundred meters farther, I caught movement in bushes and discovered one of the real prizes of my outing—a mixed flock of warblers! And not just any warblers, but three species that breed in the eastern US. One revealed a brilliant splash of orange on its face. Can you guess which one it was? That’s right—Blackburnian Warbler! It was accompanied by several Tennessee Warblers and my first look at an actual Rufous-collared Sparrow.
Blackburnian Warbler and . . .American Restart in Bogota!
As I followed the flock around, I got an even bigger surprise—a bonafide American Redstart. “Wow!” I said out loud, trying to get a photo of one of everyone’s favorite warblers.
From the main “parky park,” I crossed a pedestrian bridge over jammed up morning traffic and entered a sprawling sports complex.
You’ll be relieved to learn that Colombia has the same kinds of traffic problems as we do!
Soccer players were warming up, track and field athletes ran around a track, and tennis players smacked balls back and forth. Next to the walking path, a pair of familiar-looking black-and-white birds hopped up onto a sign. It didn’t take me long to figure out they were Tropical Mockingbirds—the only ones I would see on the trip! Then, a familiar, largish bird flew noisily by and disappeared over the wall into a stadium. Here, Braden’s and my travels to Israel paid off. Southern Lapwing! my mind immediately shouted. My real destination, though, lay just ahead.
Look familiar? It didn’t take me long to figure out that this handsome fellow was a Tropical Mockingbird.
I paid two bucks to enter the Jardin Botanico de Bogota—which, like the sporting complex, was technically part of the Simón Bolívar Park—and asked a greeter where I might find birds. Then, I set off to explore. My first find? Gorgeous Purple Gallinules. Hummingbirds also flew by, but knowing just how many hummers fill South America, I wasn’t psychologically ready to tackle those just yet.
It’s hard not to be impressed with the technicolor plumage of Purple Gallinules.
Continuing on alongside a wooded area, I spotted a bright red shape about twenty feet high on a branch—my first South American Summer Tanager! I saw another traveler staring up into the trees and walked over to introduce myself. “My name is Edwin,” he told me, along with the fact that he was from the Netherlands. “Are you seeing anything?” I asked him. “Yes, but I don’t know what they are,” he confided. I got my eyes on fast-moving, small shapes and recognized another Blackburnian Warbler, along with what I think were more Tennessee Warblers. I told Edwin what I was seeing.
“Hey, did you see the Summer Tanager?” I asked, and his eyes widened. “No!” So I led him back to where I’d spotted it, relieved to finding it still perched, evidently being well-paid by the botanical gardens staff to stay in place.
I had hoped to see some of our northern birds in their southern wintering grounds, but didn’t expect to see a Summer Tanager in downtown Bogota!
By this time, I was only up to about twenty species, which seemed like a rather poor showing for a morning in a brand new tropical country, even if I was in a major city. Only one of those species, Shiny Cowbird, was a lifer. Even worse, it was about time for me to flag down a cab and make my way back to the hotel so that I could shower, pack, and get to the airport for my flight to Pereira. Before leaving the gardens, however, I decided to make one last stop where I had seen the gallinules. Suddenly, I detected a small bird flitting among some flowers, and my pulse picked up. I didn’t know what it was, but got some decent ID shots of it. As I zoomed in on one of my photos, a smile spread across my face. It was a flowerpiercer—the first I had ever knowingly seen! Later, I consulted with Braden and we agreed that it was a beautiful little species called a Rusty Flowerpiercer.
I was thrilled to find this Rusty Flowerpiercer, the first flowerpiercer I’d ever identified on my own.
It was a great way to finish off a fun morning of layover birding in a new country. It also laid the groundwork for what would promise to be an adventurous—sometimes too adventurous—next couple of weeks.
Oh, wait, did I forget to mention the giant Harpy Eagle I saw in Bogota’s Botanical Gardens?
Not many of us have the resources to bird outside of our own regions, and if you are part of that large club, you’re in luck. Braden is spending the spring semester of his junior year studying abroad in Costa Rica. He has 16 full weekends to work with and it’s no surprise that birding is on the agenda for every one of them. Here is his latest report—to a place that is not only a wonderful birding destination, but a model of sustainable agriculture. Enjoy!
I arrived at La Reserva El Copal just as the sun dipped behind the rainforest-covered foothills, my clothes soaked with sweat and every part of my body tired from the four bus rides and two-hour walk it had taken to get to one of Costa Rica’s best birding locations. My weekends in Monteverde and Jaco had been eventful and fun, but I was in need of some solo birding time, and so four days earlier I had made a reservation for this inexpensive, out-of-the-way property sitting on the lower slopes of the Cordillera de Talamanca. Patricia and Beto, the couple that ran the reserve, warmly welcomed me as darkness fell, showing me to my room and then to the dining hall for a dinner by candlelight. As I stared at the photos of rare and colorful hummingbirds on the walls, I realized that I was the only guest staying here for the night. Patricia served my rice and beans and said that she and Beto usually lived in Pejibaye, the town the final bus had dropped me off in, and only came up here when guests arrived, which wasn’t particularly frequently in January and February. This surprised me, given El Copal’s location and the high number of desirable bird species reported from here.
Even a glance of the grounds explains why El Copal is one of Costa Rica’s top birding destinations.
The next morning I arose at dawn, grabbed my binoculars and camera and headed off into the property as the trees began to glow with increasing sunlight. Almost immediately after stepping outside, a small, dark hummingbird buzzed by me, stopping to feed at one of the many flower bushes adorning the property. Despite the fact that it was still dark, I could clearly see the brilliant white cap for which the bird was named—Snowcap, which, in the weeks leading up to my trip to Costa Rica, had quickly risen up the ranks as one of my most-wanted birds. Rare denizens of the Caribbean slope, there were very few places in the country where these birds were reliable. El Copal was one of them, and I ended up seeing at least half a dozen of them during my stay here. The tiny, fairy-like hummingbirds eliminated any doubt I had about making this trip!
El Copal is one of the few places to reliably see Snowcap hummingbirds, and fortunately, they are there in abundance!
El Copal is full of rare birds. Back in the late 90s, the land now holding El Copal had been purchased by several families for agriculture. Instead of developing the rainforest, however, they decided to first establish a form of sustainable agriculture, then open it up for ecotourism, preserving much of the primary forest on the property. Now, some of Costa Rica’s most sought-after birds (and other animals) thrive here, thanks to the decision of those local farmers. This includes the Snowcap and a variety of other hummingbirds, as well as my #1 Target Bird for the whole country: Yellow-eared Toucanet. Of the six toucan species found in the country, this toucanet is the rarest, only found in middle elevation-rainforest on the Caribbean slope. El Copal seemed to be one of the best places to find them in the whole world, and I had my fingers crossed as I headed up the steep trails leading into the reserve.
The morning was…complicated. I heard a whole lot of birdsong, but very few of the singers actually presented themselves for good looks. Merlin (the bird identification app developed by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology) was only so helpful, as there are significantly fewer recordings of Latin American species than North American species. Bird sounds that the app identified for me included Bright-rumped Attila, Broad-billed Motmot, and Northern Schiffornis, the latter of which is an entirely brown bird with one of the most entertaining whistling songs I’ve ever heard. Despite my frustration at not being able to see many of the birds hidden in the foliage, I did get eyes on a few. I spotted both a Collared Aracari and a Keel-billed Toucan, two species of toucans quite common in this type of rainforest. And I did lay eyes on several large, mixed flocks of tanagers, colorful birds that traverse the forest in search of fruit. The species I picked out at the tops of trees included Silver-throated, Emerald, Speckled, Golden-hooded, Hepatic, Summer, Scarlet-rumped, Tawny-crested, Black-and-yellow, and Bay-headed Tanagers. I also got to watch a family group of coatis quietly foraging on the trail ahead of me. They scattered when I stepped on a branch by accident.
The tanagers put on a real show around the El Copal lodge—including this spectacular Emerald Tanager.
I returned to the main property for breakfast, then headed off on a different trail, this one leading down towards a stream. I found a Buff-rumped Warbler foraging on the rocks in the water, and peered around tree ferns and buttressed trees to try and glimpse the calls I was hearing. This trail also took a left turn and then continued up the mountain, and further up I spotted Scarlet-rumped Caciques and Chestnut-headed Oropendolas, big grackle-like birds making crazy calls. As I rounded a corner, a shiny green bird with a long bill alighted on a branch in front of me. The bird’s beak was longer and thinner than that of a kingfisher, and it had a warm, orange belly complementing its shimmering, green back: a Rufous-tailed Jacamar! Few birds had given me such a good look that morning, and I stood there for several minutes, watching the bird peer down at me curiously. A few minutes later, a large Ornate Hawk-Eagle soared through a gap in the trees, and my attitude began to improve—the birds were showing themselves! On the way down, I heard a rising and falling song, signifying the presence of an antbird. I poked around a little, eventually getting eyes on a Bicolored Antbird overturning leaves! This species, like many other antbirds, are ant-following obligates, meaning that they depend on army ants to find food. As large swarms of army ants rush through the rainforest, they stir up and scare hundreds of other insects, who leap out of the way, straight into the waiting mouths of antbirds, antwrens, woodcreepers and a variety of other birds that just follow the ants around. Ground-cuckoos, one of the most enigmatic groups of birds, also belong to this ant-following group.
While I didn’t actually lay eyes on any army ants, the antbirds signified that there must have been some nearby. The leafcutter ants, meanwhile, were everywhere. Their trails ran alongside and crisscrossed the walking trails, and I always had to keep an eye on the ground so I wouldn’t step on any.
One of the best parts of my visit to El Copal was meeting Carlos, who pointed out this perched Ornate Hawk-Eagle near the lodge.
When I arrived back at the lodge for lunch, another birder who had just arrived pointed out another Ornate Hawk-Eagle, this one perched up on a distant snag. As I peered at the bird through his spotting scope, he introduced himself as Carlos, a local also living in Pejibaye. Carlos is an English teacher and regularly visits El Copal during weekends to search for the hundreds of bird species found here. I told him that I hailed from the University of Maine, and spoke of my hunt for the Yellow-eared Toucanet. He looked at his watch. “I’ve got a few more hours…do you want to hike the trails and look for the toucanet together?” So, after a quick lunch, we headed back up the mountain in search of my target.
Thanks to my chance meeting with Carlos, a teacher and Costa Rican bird expert who can identify most of the birds by sound, I got to see one of my most sought-after Costa Rican species (keep reading).
Carlos’s knowledge of the birds of the area was impressive. For one, he could identify many of the calls I’d felt hopeless about earlier, which included more species of antbirds, Collared Trogon, and several species of wrens. He also knew exactly where all the birds hung out, at one spot pointing down the side of the cliff to a White-crowned Manakin, a tiny black bird with a white cap, sitting in a bush fifty meters away. “He’s always here.”
As we gained altitude, I could begin to see the influence of cloud forest. Slightly different species lived here, and the plant composition looked different, too. One thing in particular made us realize we’d entered a higher-altitude area, however. “Toucanet!” Carlos yelled, pointing to a large, bromeliad-covered tree rising from the slope. I held my binoculars up to see, not my target bird, but an entirely green toucan: a Northern Emerald Toucanet! We tried in vain to photograph the species but neither of our cameras would cooperate, although it will be a long time before I forgot what it felt like to see that bird. This species is much more common at higher altitudes, and it was the first time Carlos had ever seen one on the property! It was, of course, a lifer (a bird I’ve never seen before) for me. As if the Emerald Toucanet wasn’t enough, as we rounded the corner, Carlos stopped me again.
Slowly and quietly, he pointed out a large-ish bird sitting about twenty meters in front of us, up in a tree. The bird was black, with a chestnut cap complementing the blue and green skin around its eye. Its long yellow and black beak, combined with green wings, orange flanks and red rump, identified it as the bird I’d been searching for: a female (hembra in Spanish) Yellow-eared Toucanet. I just about lost my mind, holding my camera up slowly with shaky hands. Never had I actually believed I would lay eyes on one, and yet, here one was, right in front of us. Then, the male appeared, sporting that yellow ear the species was named after.
Again thanks to Carlos, I had an unforgettable experience with the bird at the top of my “must see” list—a pair of Yellow-eared Toucanets (male shown here).
We enjoyed the birds for about ten minutes, then headed off, as Carlos had to get back home. I thanked him profusely for sharing these amazing birds with me, and we exchanged contact information. Then, I spent the rest of the evening looking at and deleting photos and enjoying the tanagers feeding in the fruiting trees in front of the rooms. Before I went to bed, I spotted several of what I believe to be bioluminescent beetles flying through the rainforest (though they may have been fireflies. I’m not good with bugs.).
No, this Speckled Tanager was not touched up by artists for my visit!
In total, I spotted 117 species at El Copal over the weekend, including a few the next morning like King Vulture, Gartered Trogon and Green Thorntail. La Reserva El Copal could be described as nothing short of magical. Are there places like this that you’ve always wanted to visit? A mountain range full of endemic plants? A reserve dedicated to protecting endangered amphibians? Perhaps your bucket list is topped with places like the Serengeti, the Great Barrier Reef, the ancient castles of Ireland? If you are, the Gilman Scholarship can help you get to these places! Studying abroad is an experience that every student should have the opportunity to have, and the Gilman helps put this philosophy into practice. The money they awarded me has helped me afford to go on adventures like this, the rain-forested foothills of Costa Rica, and they can help you too! So please, if you’re considering studying abroad (which you should be), apply to the Gilman!
