Crowning Glory 1st November 2014

I was in the doldrums. I always am after returning from birding in exotic parts of the world. I just cannot seem to raise the enthusiasm to get back into British birding. Well not for some time anyway.

However on Thursday evening the 30th October an email arrived from Dusan in far off Ecuador. 

'Have you been to see it yet?' 

See what I wondered. I had been lax, distracted by work issues and had not checked my RBA (Rare Bird Alert) app. on my i-phone. I looked at it now in some trepidation. I scrolled down the screen and there it was - Eastern Crowned Warbler in Brotton, Cleveland!  It had been found around lunchtime on Thursday and blissfully ignorant of the fact, my life had carried on as normal.

Not now though. This was only the third to be found in Britain. I had missed the first by a day and the second had been on private land and not viewable. This was my chance. Or was it? On Friday I had to go for an Xray at 9.30am and I estimated that I would not be able to leave Oxford until at least 1030 and a minimum of a four hour drive would get me to Cleveland at around 2.30pm not leaving much time to see the warbler, which apparently was quite elusive, before it got dark at around 4pm. An additional problem was the fact the beloved Black Audi's turbo was playing up and needed attention. Could I really risk it?

I rang Clackers on Thursday evening and he was willing to go. 

'Let me mull it over Clackers and I will ring in the morning'. 

The next morning I rang Clackers having, on the advice of the garage decided not to risk such a long journey with an ailing car, as they gave me dire predictions of much more costly engine damage if the turbo gave up the ghost. Short trips were OK but a long one a definite risk too far. Saturday was also out of the question, as apart from the lack of a car I was committed to go to Stratford upon Avon to see a play in the early evening with my wife and relatives.

All was not well and good with my world. A tweet had also arrived from Justin relating how he had gone for the warbler on Thursday and delayed by the inevitable roadworks and speed checks on the M1/AI Motorways only got to Brotton at just before 4pm, just missed seeing the warbler before darkness fell and then he had to turn round and drive straight back as his father had been taken ill. 

An idea formed. Justin has a car, he will really want to see the warbler and if it is still there on Friday we could risk it and go in the early hours of Saturday morning, pray we see the warbler and hopefully be back mid afternoon so he could visit his father in hospital and I could still go to the theatre with my wife and her brother and sister in law. It seemed so simple. It all depended on Justin.

I rang Justin and proposed my plan. He was up for it. 

'I will call you Friday evening if it is still there Justin'. 

The warbler was still there at 4pm so I called Justin and we arranged to meet at 3am on Saturday morning outside his home in Bicester and drive to Brotton in Justin's car.

I risked driving the Audi the relatively short distance to Bicester and duly arrived at the appointed hour. Everything was loaded into Justin's car in double quick time and we headed off into the night. 

Joining the Motorway and the first sign we see is 

'M1 Motorway Northbound is closed Junctions 16-18'. 

We followed a convoy of huge lorries re- routed onto a diversion round Daventry. We made it back onto the Motorway to be greeted by 

'Average Speed Check 50mph!' 

This was in force for the next twenty or so miles. Ye gods would we ever get there?  I tried to stay awake but kept dozing off. Fortunately Justin didn't. Finally free of the speed restrictions the foot went down and we sped north leaving the M1 for the A1. 

Not to be outdone the A1 had its very own  '50mph Average Speed Check'. 

I fell asleep again. On awaking we stopped shortly after for a toilet break at some foresaken, dreary and deserted garage by the side of the A1.

The facilities easily exceeded the often appalling standards that greet the weary road traveller if you venture away from the Motorway Services. Based on CAMROT rules (Campaign for Retention of Outside Toilets) I awarded it the highest honour possible - three bog brushes with bar. A wet, dank, unsanitary, germ ridden, toilet paper strewn,  festering, tiled brick square greeted us for which we suffered the additional insult of having to pay 20p to access this disgrace. What is it with this country and toilets? Why are they not looked after and kept clean? The garage was obviously to blame for not checking it and keeping it presentable but so are the people who mis-use it.

Hopefully germ free we carried on up the A1 and the dawn slowly materialised as we passed the North Yorkshire Moors. The lower slopes of the impressive crags were blanketed a deep orange as a forest of deciduous trees, still retaining their leaves, had now turned a deep burnished gold due to the extended mild autumn. Slowly the sun rose and we drove along deserted roads that were golden leafed corridors of grey  winding their way through the rural green of North Yorkshire. Ragged winged rooks and crows flew at the last possible moment from the road as we progressed and soon, as Justin already knew the way, we were easing our way through the modern housing of terraced and semi detached houses that is Brotton, parking in the very expansive and palatial Golf and Health Club at the end of the road. The car park was already almost full, presumably with birders cars, and I did briefly think that the golfers and Health Club members would not be happy when they arrived later that morning.

However this concern was soon forgotten as we walked the few yards to the small wood growing on a gentle slope on the opposite side of the road. The strip of woodland consisted of small trees, mainly Sycamores and up to about fifty birders were scattered around, standing in clearings, some trying to shake off the early morning tiredness and look interested, others peering hopefully into tree tops and yet more hanging around with small dogs on very long leads that were just asking to be tripped over. It is unusual to see so many dogs at a twitch but there is a first time for everything. It was obvious no-one had yet seen the warbler. Was it even still here?

We stood quietly within the wood getting our bearings and glad to be out of the car. Justin having been here already on his abortive trip a couple of days ago knew the lie of the land. We walked the short distance through the wood to the other side. Nothing untoward was seen or heard by anyone. Someone claimed to have seen a warbler drop down in the leafy distance. Everyone gravitated to where he indicated but it was a false alarm. I went to the not very far edge of the wood and stood with a few others by some scattered trees leaving the main crowd further back in the wood. Someone then claimed to have briefly seen a small bird up amongst the leaves of the closest tree to us. Staring hard and longingly at the leaves I could detect nothing. Another person said they could see something the other side of the tree. We all walked round to that side but no one could see anything there. We arrived back where we had started and then finally someone saw a warbler near the top of the tree and confirmed it was the Eastern Crowned Warbler. Mild panic ensued. He gave directions, spouting off the usual confusing details of leaves, twigs, branches etc. Then and there I decided to go for my tropical rain forest technique honed to perfection on my recent trip to Ecuador. I just focused my bins on the general area being referred to, hoped, and it worked. Bang slap in the bins was the Eastern Crowned Warbler perched amongst the leaves. Small, insignificant and very well camouflaged. 

It was now my turn to announce I could clearly see it and issue my version of hopeless directions. I could see it beautifully but dared not lower my bins. It sat side on showing its long pale supercilium, black eye stripe, moss green upperparts, wing bar and white underparts. It was slow moving, almost sluggish for a warbler and allowed a prolonged, well, a minute or two, look, before then turning to face me. I kept repeating what it was doing and where it was for Justin's benefit and a lady behind me confirmed loudly she too could now see it. Justin was right behind me but could not locate it. I kept on, in increasing desperation, issuing guidance for what that was worth but he could not see it amongst the leaves, that were slowly fluttering in the breeze. It's happened to all of us, knowing it's there right in front of you but just being incapable of finding it. The warbler moved downwards, was lost to view behind the leaves but then popped up again but still Justin could not get it. Then it flew away, fast to our left and was gone. Justin saw a small flying shape and that was all.

For me it was great. I had seen the warbler really well but my feeling of triumph was muted by disappointment for Justin. He had still to see it properly. We were birding buddies and the ultimate is to share the triumph. At the moment it was one sided. We followed in the direction the warbler had flown but there was no sign of it.

The time passed and the warbler was still lost to view from the increasing number of birders, probably nearing a hundred now, scattered through the wood. Justin and I split up, occasionally meeting, conferring and confirming there was still no sign of the bird. Surely, soon, someone would locate it? I wandered off and stood under some low Sycamores next to a young birder from Leeds who had been with me early on and saw the warbler at the same time. We chatted about this and that when a movement in the leaves above us betrayed a warbler right above our heads. We looked up. What was it? I could only see its undersides but eventually I saw a side on view. It was a Common Chiffchaff. The crowd had noted our concentrated focus on the tree and gathered nearby on the other side looking intently. Someone announced he had 'got it'. What he should have said was he could see a warbler. He was looking at the same Common Chiffchaff we were looking at.The crowd pressed in on him thinking he could see the Eastern Crowned Warbler only to be disappointed as they too realised it was only a Common Chiffchaff. 

If you go down to the woods today ............................

I moved further away with my young colleague and pppssssweeet the unmistakeable anxiety call of a Yellow browed Warbler came loud and clear but we just could not locate it. We gave it up after twenty minutes and went back to looking for the Eastern Crowned Warbler.

The crowd slowly moved back and fore through the wood, some actively looking whilst others were content to stand and wait for others to do the job. I moved back to where I had seen the Common Chiffchaff, as the trees looked particularly good there. I stood with the lad from Leeds and a couple of other birders. Another movement. I looked in my bins, through the nearest leaves and twigs, and saw in the branches and leaves beyond a wing bar and then a supercilium which set my pulse going.

The warbler moved out onto an open twig. A full view of - a Yellow browed Warbler!

Although a good find it was not the desired Eastern Crowned Warbler. We wandered back in the direction of where we had originally seen the Eastern Crowned Warbler. A grating chay chay chay call came, distinctive and loud. Willow Tit! I had not seen one in years and was soon watching one flitting through a hawthorn. I wandered on and then, returning through the wood found a scrum of fifty or so birders all looking intently in one direction. The elusive Eastern Crowned Warbler had been found and shortly after I was greeted by an ecstatic Justin who had seen it really well. Now we could both relax and enjoy the day.

We decided to wait for one more view of the warbler and then we would go. The wait went on for quite some time but finally it was discovered again in what turned out to be a bit of a restricted viewing area requiring some genteel and subtle elbow work to fend off anxious latecomers as we watched it feeding in some low Sycamores at just above eye level. It was difficult to see as its movements were slow and if it was behind a leaf one person could see it whilst often the person next to you could not due to the angle of viewing and lack of movement. Justin and I watched the warbler briefly showing parts of itself before disappearing again. A minor verbal fracas ensued between a photographer and an over enthusiastic birder who pushed a little too close for comfort in his anxiety to see the bird. It was all totally un-necessary and the photographer should be ashamed of his language.

I walked off and called to Justin  as I did not care for this behaviour. We got to the end of the wood again and a birder motioned to me to come over and join him. 

'You can see it in that tree with your naked eye. See its silver breast, shining in the sun, sat up in  that tree over there?'  

Sure enough there was the Eastern Crowned Warbler sitting in clear view high in the tree, apparently luxuriating in the sun and having a quiet moment. 

The final showing

It sat there, not really moving for a few minutes and occasionally on bending its head downwards you could see the distinctive pale median crown stripe running down the centre of its grey crown. 

Eastern Crowned Warbler

Finally it dropped down lower in the tree and was hidden by the leaves before it flew back into the centre of the wood.

'That will do for me. You seen enough Justin?' 

'Yep, let's go'. 

We left the wood and commenced walking down to the car. Many more birders were arriving but we were in that golden time where the world becomes a wonderful place and the anxiety of planning and risk taking for a long distance twitch  has all proved worthwhile. There is no better feeling.

Smug? Us? Surely not!
Justin and Ewan- a triumphant selfie

An uneventful but tedious four hour drive back along busy motorways on a now sunny and very mild day brought us to Bicester at just after 1pm.  Home, some lunch and a nap. 

The play 'Much Ado about Nothing' was really good too.

A brilliant day all round.

[Thanks to Justin for the location photos]

The final instalment of Gracias Ecuador will follow soon

Gracias Ecuador Part 7

11th October 2014

Refugio Paz de las Aves

It rained hard all night. In my subconcious I sensed it beating down on the terrace outside my window and waking in the early hours I found it was still raining. I  was depressed as rain would caste a huge shadow on a day I had eagerly anticipated for months. Still, there was nothing I could do about it except remain philosophical. I woke at 4.30 after my troubled night's sleep and listened. All was quiet, no thrumming of rain on the roof or terrace outside. It had been raining non stop, heavy tropical rain, for eleven hours but it had finally stopped and my spirits lifted. Today we were to make an earlier than normal start to get to Angel Paz's reserve at first light. No breakfast, just a quick cup of tea. The Americans were already up and ready to go with their guide.

It was still dark, damp and wet underfoot as I opened the glass door of the Las Gralarias Centre. The door was a quilt of moths, literally festooned with hundreds of insects of huge shapes and sizes attracted by the outside light. I tried not to dislodge any of them, leaving them comatose and clinging to the glass.

Rolando who lives nearby in another village was already waiting for us and we piled into the pickup and headed back down the long bumpy road, crossing back over the Equator into the southern hemisphere again and back onto the main road for the  half hour drive to Refugio Paz de las Aves.

The Refugio which is two hours drive northwest of Quito was started by two brothers Angel and Rodrigo Paz in 2005 and has since become world famous as the place to see antpittas. Originally poor farmers they realised by chance that they could make a living from creating a reserve on their land where birders and tourists could come and see antpittas and the spectacular Andean Cock of the Rock lek. They charged $10.00 (what a farmer would earn in a day) for a four hour visit and have gone from strength to strength. Angel and Rodrigo have schooled, over many months, the various antpittas inhabiting the forest to come to their call, the birds knowing they will be rewarded with some cut up worms. The antpittas are by no means tame but have been conditioned to respond by habit so they will show up, often only briefly, to the delight of birders and tourists from all over the world. You can read more about these remarkable men on their web site www.refugiopazdelasaves.com.

Angel Paz

Dusan with Rodrigo and Angel Paz

We arrived in a grey dawn with low cloud, the vegetation still dripping from the previous night's rain and the ground sodden and muddy. There were about ten of us in all and Angel told us that first he would show us his latest antpitta triumph - a Scaled Antpitta . He walked up the road fifty or so metres and started calling. The light was still dull and I could see nothing moving but then a brown bird dropped from the high bank of vegetation on his left and hopped around by the side of the road before grabbing a couple of the distributed worms and flying back into cover on the other side of the road. It did not re-appear. Oh well let's hope it is not all like this. Angel was apologetic telling us this bird is still quite nervous and it will take another few months before it is confident enough to show itself properly.

We walked up the rising track and turned right into the forest and followed a slippery, leaf sodden track with the usual obstacles of roots and branches for the unwary to negotiate. No one fell and no one slipped as we gingerly followed Angel. I could hear loud raucous shrieks and gurgling noises coming from the trees ahead of us. 'Cock of the Rocks' Dusan whispered to me. The path opened out and there before us was a waist high wattle screen which we were directed to stand behind and look into the trees beyond. I gasped in sheer wonder. I really did. Perched on bare branches below deep green foliage, not that far away, were three bright red birds contorting into fantastical shapes and making a series of most extraordinary loud cries. 

Cock of the Rock -  top two images c Dusan Brinkhuizen

The colours of the birds were amazing, almost glowing, even in the dull light of a damp early morning. The light was atrocious for photography but I just had to get something and duly clicked away. For thirty minutes or so we watched this amazing spectacle as the males flew about and then perched to display and contort. Then suddenly it was all over. Silence and the birds had dispersed. One male was left and he soon disappeared into the forest giving me one final glimpse of red, black and grey as he melted away into the green canopy and leaving me wondering how can such a brightly coloured bird become so invisible.

Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. What fabulous birds.

We turned to retreat back down the narrow path but Angel had not finished and showed us two distant Rufous bellied Nighthawks roosting on a branch up in the canopy. Then I saw an Ornate Flycatcher perched above us. A tiny short tailed yellow bird with a dark head and two white 'headlights,' one on each side of its bill.

Ornate Flycatcher c Dusan Brinkhuizen

Now we slowly headed back to the main track and walked back down to another turning that brought us to a clearing with hummingbird feeders and branches which Angel baited with ripe bananas to attract tanagers.

A bench was conveniently situated right by the feeders and we sat enthralled as various species of hummingbird, in their unique frenetic way, whizzed around us, their dizzying speed and movements almost too rapid to follow.  The bananas attracted a few Lemon rumped Tanagers and a male Orange bellied Euphonia but a mutual concensus was arrived at amongst us to move on and go and follow Angel down the main track to the bridge over the stream, as this was the spot where two Yellow breasted Antpittas held a territory, right by the stream and on the opposite bank.

Anticipation was now rising but before we headed down to the riverside Angel pointed out a Lyre Tailed Nighthawk roosting under a lip of earth high up on the forested bank. It was hard to see and beautifully camouflaged but in a scope the views were much better.Then down to the stream, gurgling its way through the rocks but not before two White capped Dippers put in a welcome appearance.The extensive white on their head, breast and mantle gave them a piebald appearance as they bounced along on the rocks.

White capped Dipper c Dusan Brinkhuizen

After Angel was satisfied we had seen enough of them he waded across the shallow stream to the far bank which rose steeply, wet, dark and mysterious, overhung with the rich greens of the luxurious vegetation. He called and threw some worms onto the rocky, mossy bank. A slight movement in the leaves and undergrowth was hopeful and then a small brown bird was detectable, emerging from the darkness of the bank and out onto the exposed rock

A Yellow breasted Antpitta. Rich, almost orange brown upperparts and a lemon yellow breast with a big black eye and large bill were my initial impressions. It hopped about nervously on long grey legs, its virtually tailless body plump  but remained on view and was briefly joined by another. Angel threw some worms and the antpitta gathered them up in its bill and retreated back into cover to eat them and then was back out for more.

For five or ten minutes both antpittas hopped about on the bank but then their timidity got the better of them and they retreated back into the dark of the undergrowth, their natural environment and doubtless where they felt more secure. The show was over.

Yellow breasted Antpitta

Once the antpittas had gone for good we moved back up the main track and then took a very steep and treacherous path off to our left, winding up the high bank into the forest. It really was quite risky at some points with a very steep drop on either side. Finally coming to where the track branched off to the right we stood on a downwards sloping side track beside some relatively open undergrowth.

I asked Dusan what was happening here. He told me 'Another antpitta, this one is an Ochre breasted Antpitta. She is called Shakira.'  'Why Shakira?' I enquired. 'You'll see' was the enigmatic reply. A few minutes passed with Angel making suitable noises but nothing seemed to happen then another slight movement in the leaves and as before an antpitta seemed to materialise from the forest floor.

The Ochre breasted Antpitta was much smaller, almost robin size, than the Yellow breasted Antpitta we had just seen but no less appealing. You could almost call it cute. The American gentleman next to me thought it was a thrush at first just as I had done with the Streak breasted Antpitta back at Tigrillo Lodge. I put him right. 'That's the Ochre breasted Antpitta'. I could see though why he thought it was a thrush although to me it was more robin like in its demeanour. The antpitta sat on a thin moss covered low branch just looking at us for quite some time and then moved to another closer branch, still contemplating us.

The epitomy of unhurriedness it did not seem particularly interested in Angel's worms and just silently regarded us with large dark eyes, moving its hind body in a gentle swaying motion and occasionally moving position. An almost spiritual moment came over me, standing in a tropical rain forest looking at an uncommon bird that is rarely seen, perched just a few feet away from me and surrounded by a united nations of admirers. In appearance it was indeed ochre breasted with numerous dark streaks on its breast, plain brown upperparts and a prominent bare ring around its eye. It too had the long spindly legs of its colleagues but they were flesh coloured rather than grey and its tail was also virtually non existent.

Ochre breasted Antpitta

Slowly it moved back further into the tangle of leaves and twigs and out of sight.Twenty minutes of sheer bliss in its company but now it was time to go down the path and back to the main track. There was one more antpitta treat in store.

'One question though, Dusan, 'Why Shakira?' 

'Because she shakes her 'booty' just like her famous namesake!' 

'Aah, of course'

We got back in the vehicles and went uphill, parking on a ridge with a wonderful view of the Andes surrounding us.

View from the ridge

A dark entrance to our left with a couple of horizontal logs guarding it signified an opening, dropping down at a steep angle from the ridge.

After some milling about everyone got organised and Rodrigo started calling to the antpittas. Dusan told me the antpitta now in question was a Chestnut crowned Antpitta and in his opinion one of the prettiest. We waited but nothing came to see us. We waited some more but nothing. Ten minutes and then again there came that heart stopping mysterious movement of a shape on the forest floor, ascending slowly to appear at the dark entrance but never venturing beyond.

Then there were two silhouettes and finally the most beautiful antpitta I had ever seen hopped up onto the logs. It was big, olive brown above and the orange head, white breast and boldly streaked underparts were as Dusan had intimated, really beautiful.

These were probably the most timid of all the antpittas we had encountered this morning and did not remain long before slipping back down the track into the cover of the undergrowth. One last lingering look from both of us and they were gone

Chestnut crowned Antpitta

Now it was over and we all went back to Angel's home for refreshments served by his wife. Tea, coffee, and some traditional Ecuadorian food were served up on the terrace and even better there was a viewing area to look across into a large tree, its lower branches baited with ripe bananas to attract tanagers.

Angel's home

I took up position to try and photo some tanagers when Dusan came over and told me that Angel as a special treat had one more antpitta to show us. A Moustached Antpitta . 

'Was I interested?'  

'You bet, let's go!'

Angel led the way down another precipitous track for quite some way and we stopped by a steeply rising bank on our right. Another Ochre breasted Antpitta briefly showed itself to our left. They really are tiny.

In no time at all a Moustached Antpitta appeared, hopped down the bank and grabbed a beakful of worms thrown to it before retreating back up the bank and into cover.

Moustached Antpitta

This is how you would normally see an antpitta - if you are lucky

Their behaviour was now getting familiar! Frankly this bird was a bit of a bruiser and possibly the largest sized antpitta to date. It was so close it was difficult to get it into shot. The whole episode lasted just five minutes but I was now pinching myself that this was all happening. Five species of antpitta in one morning! Not content with this Angel then pointed out a Common Potoo sitting high up on a tree stump and looking just like the moss covered broken stump it was pretending to be.

Common Potoo

This was the finale and we went back to the viewpoint to carry on taking pictures and have some much needed food and drink. Dusan told me to take as much time as I wished as there was no hurry so I just sat with a cup of tea and I think the Ecuadorian equivalent of a cheese pasty and took pictures of the various tanagers that came to eat the bananas

Blue winged Mountain Tanager

Golden naped Tanager

Palm Tanager

Golden Tanager

Flame faced Tanager

Buff throated Saltator

Rufous collared Sparrow

Whilst watching the tanagers a larger bird with bounding flight came into the tree and the tanagers scattered. An array of colours and a hefty bill told me instantly that here was my favourite bird, a Toucan Barbet. It hopped heavily, down onto a banana, and proceed to stuff itself silly before flying off with a beakful of ripe banana, possibly to feed some young barbets. It was back half an hour later and proceeded to repeat its performance of demolishing a ripe banana scattering bits of banana all over the place. What a bird and to see it so close with its ruby red eyes glaring as it looked around was a real treat.

Toucan Barbet. I know, a lot of pictures but it is my favourite!

Once the barbet had departed so did we, stopping at the hummingbird station on the way out to have our lunch, spread out on the bench and which we now had to ourselves. The sun shone, Rolando and Dusan sorted out the world and I just sat and took pictures of the hummingbirds and reflected on how lucky I was to experience all of this. I will never forget this day, ever

Violet tailed Sylph

Fawn breasted Brilliant

Booted Racket Tail female - this had the charming habit of holding its wings 
open for a fraction immediately after it settled

Now it was a long drive to the intriguingly named reserve of Un Poco del Choco

to be continued