A kingfisher in Mindo, Ecuador
The ground is colder than the air. There are long pauses
between cricket hisses and frog groans. The cloud forest is
waking up.
The van is late leaving and our group will have to hike fast
if we are going to catch a glimpse of the elusive Andean cock-of-the-rock.
We find the way to the lookout shelter in the dark using
phone lights and the red-eye polarizers on our cameras.
The pre-dawn path to the birding shelter has us knee deep in mud!
Julia Patino, our guide, teases us, “Didn’t anyone tell you
to bring your torches?”
For a half-hour we trudge through mud and then we wait.
The Andean cock-of-the-rock is shy, rarely perched “in the
open.” If we are lucky we will see a hint of bright red plumage.
Patino initiates some bird calls, then names the birds that
respond. This technique is called pishing. Her calls are remarkably effective.
She sets up a sight for us, predicting where the birds will
land and how they will move or react next.
Over the course of three hours, we see parrots, toucans, and a broad variety of taningers. We see velvet coronets, and rufous motmots, and a
golden headed quetzal.
And we see our Andean cock-of-the-rock. Three of them, in fact!
Birding is big business in Ecuador. In the tourist town of
Mindo alone there are three full time birding operations featuring multiple
guides with gaggles of letters behind their names.
Julia is independent and has been working in the region for
over a decade. She knows all the sweet spots: not just in the sanctuaries, but
on random hillsides and highways.
Our group sitting down after birding to relax and share impressions.
When we break for an early lunch, I’ve improved my life
list by nearly 30 species.
Now that’s what I call a Big Day!
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