Panama: Chiriqui Highlands Feb 09—15, 2006
Posted by Marshall Iliff
Marshall Iliff
Marshall Iliff, a lifelong nature lover, began birding at age 11 after attending a National Wildlife Federation Camp in the mountains of North Carolina. He attended VENT...Related Trips
The Chiriqui Highlands of western Panama always provide a nice complement to a Panama’s Canopy Tower tour. Although we do some birding in the Pacific lowlands, much of our time is spent in the highlands where the cooler temperatures, clouds, and much reduced humidity bring an element of comfort that is a welcome change. The species that occur in the highlands show almost no overlap with those we see in the Canal Zone, and there are a good number of lowland species that are always new as well.
A special highlight is enjoying the hummingbird diversity?watching from deck chairs and counting some nine species, among them the huge and vibrant Violet Sabrewings; sparkling Green Violet-ears; vivid emerald Snowy-bellieds; and the unique endemic White-throated Mountain-gem, with its white gorget. The Finca Hartmann shade coffee plantation is always a pleasure for its incredible bird abundance among an active coffee plantation: Fiery-billed Aracari, Turquoise Cotinga, Red-headed Barbet, and Yellow-browed Chlorophonia were but a few of our highlights there.
I wouldn’t be able to write about highlights without mentioning the spritely little Torrent Tyrannulets, which we enjoyed as they hopped and dashed about on a pond’s edge at Hotel Bambito. In the lowland areas around David we got off to a great start with a singing Striped Cuckoo, raising and lowering his crest with each whistled note. Soaring raptors overhead included King Vulture and a Mangrove Black-Hawk. But the highlight for most would be the Resplendent Quetzal. This year we found a singing male quetzal almost immediately. In the scope his emerald-green body contrasted sharply with a brilliant red belly. The short crest and short yellow bill accented its unique and innocent facial expression, and its absurd long train (elongated uppertail coverts, rather than the shorter, stiff tail feathers) waved behind the bird in the gentle morning breeze. Later in the day we would have another look at what was probably the same male, this time in brighter light that accentuated the vivid emerald-green upperparts. This may indeed be the most beautiful bird in the world, as some have claimed.
For me, the singular highlight of this tour was the Costa Rican Pygmy-Owl. My co-leader, Ito Genover, had heard the bird calling from a good ways off, so we made our way towards it. Owls can be quite ventriloqiual, and often sound farther away than they really are, so we carefully searched the large tree about 75 yards away. Amazingly, the tiny owl was actually sitting in a mostly bare tree even closer to us. It called persistently and allowed great scope views, while periodically ducking from the aggressions of a feisty Volcano Hummingbird. After we all had good scope views, we closed the distance for even better views while I stalked even closer for photography. For another 10 minutes I stood below the owl trying to get just the right picture when the owl looked at me. I called to it occasionally, but since the calls elicited little reaction, I was not calling regularly. It rarely seemed aware of my presence, and focused its attention on more distant points. A perfect photo of the owl looking right at me would prove elusive. Then, just as I was considering leaving, the owl shifted on its perch, fluffed its wings, and glided down to a fencepost that was no more than three feet away from me. (Had I wanted to, I could have easily touched it with an outstretched arm.) I froze instantly, and the owl was now riveted on my eyes. There was a fire in his eyes that seemed almost accusatory, and the owl and I stared at each other for a solid half-minute. I couldn’t help but think what an amazing photo it would be if only I weren’t so close?I would have to back up eight feet or more to be able to focus on the owl. I couldn’t help but think that the owl knew that, and had perched so close to spite me. When I finally lost patience and tried to quietly back up for a photo, the owl flew off to a distant tree line. This was unquestionably the most personal interaction I’ve had with a bird?its tiny yellow eyes seemed to look right into my soul. Minutes later another pygmy-owl flew into a fallen snag about 10 yards away. It was bright rufous overall and lacked the spotting of the adult we’d just seen. A few patches of fluffy down remained. Perhaps the behavior of the adult was so unusual because it was distracting me from its more vulnerable and naïve offspring. But, I wonder?