White-throated crake in the hand

The new migrants were two Oporornis warblers, the Kentucky Warbler (Oporornis formosus) and the Mourning warbler (Oporornis philadelphia), and the Wood thrush (Hylocichla mustelina).  None of these is by any means a rarity and there’s not much comparison with the latest exciting discoveries in Costa Rica of two rare Dendroicas, the Golden-cheeked warbler (Dendroica chrysoparia) and the Prairie warbler (Dendroica discolor), but I was thrilled to see them here anyway. 

Well, I was not thrilled to find the Kentucky warbler

Damn that cat!

because it was the unfortunate victim of our cat.  The Kentucky warbler is a species that tends to forage close to the ground and thus it fell easy prey to the cat, whose presence I tolerate only to avoid the threat of divorce from my wife.  I bet he catches a bird a day.  Sometimes I can rescue them (I released a juvenile Rufous-collared sparrow from his jaws this very morning) but who knows how many he secretly devours? 

I have seen the Kentucky warbler down at CATIE, and in fact at least one was banded down there the same week.  The Mourning warbler is quite common at the live fence area at CATIE, but the female in the church yard opposite my house was my first view for San Antonio. 

On a brief walk this week to a small forest remnant next to Quebrada La Loca, I heard the unmistakeable sound of a Wood thrush and was lucky enough to get a good look at its beautiful rufous crown and the big spots on the underparts.  I heard the same bird in the same location the next day, again in the late afternoon.  It is regularly banded at CATIE down outside Turrialba, and here’s a photo to prove it.

Wood thrush shows his spots

Today brought the chance to see a Yellow-olive flycatcher  (Tolmomyias sulphurescens) up fairly close.  This species is not at all common hereabouts, and it’s always difficult to determine if it’s really this species.  It’s too big to confuse with the Paltry tyrannulet (Zimmerius vilissimus), which has similar yellow edging on the wings and is a common resident here in San Antonio, but it looks almost identical to the Yellow-margined flycatcher (Tolmomyias assimilis) which appears right next to it in Garrigues & Dean’s indispensable guide to the Birds of Costa Rica.  The bird I saw in the higuerón definitely had a pale iris, and on that basis I pronounce it to be the Yellow-olive!  A bold statement, I’m sure, since the head was very grey, which would make it the Yellow-margined.  Oh dear, how I wish I had a good camera.

Guayabo landscape with giant cedro

Now that I’m mostly house-bound, it was a delight to escape to the Monument road for a couple of hours.  The landscape above the Monument is open pastureland with thin patches of forest.  The volcano slopes, thickly wooded, are high above, and, as you walk downhill, the steep cleft of the Rio Guayabo, hiding a series of cataracts and then the huge La Muralla waterfall, is over to the right.  

Rio Guayabo below La Muralla

There is no access to La Muralla from this side, but, to my surprise, a local dairy farmer explained to me that the cataracts above the waterfall are easily accessible from his property, over mostly level land moreover.  On another occasion, I hope to accept his offer to let me walk through and get my first view of the cataracts.

First bird of the morning (late morning) that I don’t often see at home was a Black-cheeked woodpecker (Melanerpes pucherani). 

Male black-cheeked woodpecker

Our area seems to have no truly dominant woodpecker species.  They appear only on occasions in San Antonio.  I suppose  Hoffmann’s woodpecker (Melanerpes hoffmannii) is the one I see most often.  It’s at the extreme eastern end of its Costa Rican range here, while the Black-cheeked is a Caribbean species that is found mostly in the lowlands.  A woodpecker that enjoys a similar range (but also on the Pacific side) is the Rufous-winged woodpecker (Piculus simplex), and this species and the very similar Golden-olive woodpecker (Piculus rubiginosus) make up the remainder of the species that I have seen in our immediate area.  On one occasion, I did receive a visit in the garden from the migratory Yellow-bellied sapsucker (Sphyrapicus varius) so familar to North American birders. 

Another bird that caught my interest was the Plain xenops (Xenops minutus) that sat very close by and allowed close inspection.  It’s in the woodcreeper family but it doesn’t creep but picks at the bark and branches instead.  First impression might be that it’s a little flycatcher.  Anyway, any bird whose name begins with an x surely must rate attention, and I’m still anxious to see this little fellow on my home turf.  So far I have seen it twice here at the Monument and once down at CATIE during banding.  It is found as high as 1500 m and so I’ll continue to look for it in San Antonio.

Plain xenops - plain beautiful

As you approach the Monument, heavy forest begins to appear on the left in a ravine cut by a mountain stream that joins the Rio Guayabo further down, and then finally the pastures on the right give way to more patches of secondary forest.  A seemingly large buteo with a barred tail, perhaps a Broad-winged hawk (Buteo platypterus) flew away from me upslope, but I had virtually no bird activity until I got to the first sign announcing the Monument.

At this point, everything suddenly came alive and I actually never reached the Monument before it was time to catch a ride back home for lunch.  A close-up and sustained view of a male White-collared manakin (Manacus candei) was enough to make my day. 

Male White-collared manakin - a real beauty

This little guys zip around so rapidly that it’s often very hard to get a good look.  I could hear the wing-popping of the males, but often I’m unsure whether it’s really them or else perhaps some insect.  I have not seen any manakin species at home, although several species seem likely on the basis of the distribution maps in Garrigues & Dean .

Three separate Contupus flycatchers refused to give a call note that might permit identification; just one of them had the yellowish belly that would indicate the resident Tropical pewee (Contupus cinereus). 

Big-eyed Swainson's thrush

My first Swainson’s thrush (Cathartus ustulatus) of the year was followed a few minutes later by a Mountain robin (Turdus plebejus) that had found its way down to below its normal elevation.  It looks exactly like the omnipresent Clay-coloured robin, Costa Rica’s national bird, but it’s grey instead of brown and has a dark bill.   I have yet to see the Pale-vented thrush (Turdus obsoletus), which supposedly should be in the area.  Investigate all robins! 

.Warblers were plentiful and I had lots of fun picking them out, even though no unusual species appeared.  Chestnut-sided warblers (Dendroica pensylvanica) outnumbered the others.  This little bird is quite easy to identify, even though most of them don’t have the chestnut flanks, because it keeps its tail cocked high as it flits around. 

Chestnut-sided warbler with intermediate plumage

The other species I found today were the beautiful resident Tropical parula (Parula pitiayumi), the Tennessee warbler and the Black-and-white warbler.  The parula’s wing-bar, so prominent in the guides, is either absent or hard to see, and my first impression is always of a bi-coloured bird, solid dark blue above and orangish yellow below.

Three vireos were common: Red-eyed vireo, Yellow-throated vireo and Lesser greenlet (Hylophilus decurtatus). 

Lesser greenlet finally stands still, photo courtesy of Larry H. Thompson

I rarely see the latter species and so was very happy to get good looks at a small group of these gregarious little acrobats.  I don’t think they’ll present an identification problem any more.  The white throat and breast and, in particular, the prominent eye-ring exclude other candidates.  I think you’ll almost always see several birds together at a time.

Male Bay-headed tanager

My happy day was completed by nice looks at several Silver-throated tanagers (Tangara icterocephala) and a very cooperative female or immature Bay-headed tanager (Tangara gyrola).  The former, strikingly beautiful when the throat glistens in the sun, is quite common in the area, but I have yet to see the Bay-headed tanager actually in San Antonio.  It never seems to enter the count circle.  Grrr!  Do I really have a count circle?

Well, it was two hours very well spent, and I include here only the highlights.

Cuatro Ojos – Four Eyes!

Plain but pretty!

 

Forest remnants of reasonable size begin just after Guayabo.  I must explain that I’m talking about Guayabo Arriba, up much higher than Guayabo National Monument.  The right-hand side of the road affords terrific views down to the Caribbean, with the thickly wooded cleft gorge of the Rio Guayabo in the foreground.  Unfortunately, the La Muralla waterfall cannot be seen from above.  There are many cascading streams coming from the left, i.e. from the volcano slope, but aquatic species are rare because of the scarcity of fish.

El pájaro chancho

First species of note was a single grunting Masked tityra (Tityra semifasciata).  They always seem to perch high, and it’s a species that is being tracked in the biological corridor programme.  It’s a fairly common bird but it’s very handsome with its contrasting black wings on a white body.  Its red face is a clincher for separating it from the similar but rather uncommon Black-crowned tityra (Tityra inquisitor).

I had decided to visit a friend who was building a house just up above Torito but the locals told me he was away on business in Limon.  One friendly local invited me in for pancito, cheese and coffee, before I started the steep uphill slog to test my strength.  The landscape is beautiful but pastureland is still much more prevalent than forest remnants.  The cloud forest begins above Las Abras, which is 7 km from Santa Cruz on a reasonable dirt road.  The road continues for about another 13 km to Bajos del Volcán and quetzal territory.  I got lost for a time before emerging at the road just above Las Abras, a short way below the cloud forest. 

Warblers.  The forest remnants on my right provided good views of Rufous-capped warbler (Basileuterus rufifrons)  and Slate-throated redstart (Myoborus miniatus), two resident warblers.  The latter is a medium-elevation bird but I have not found it lower than Santa Cruz so far, 200 m above San Antonio.  It is easily recognisable from the fanned tail with prominent white in the edges.  The former is not a highland species and is mostly found on the Pacific side, but it is at the eastern end of its Central Valley range here near Turrialba.  It appears very rarely in San Antonio, in my experience. 

Rufous-capped warbler, a common resident

Slate-throated redstart

The other two warblers I found were the Blackburnian warbler (Dendroica fusca) and the Black-and-white warbler (Mniotilta varia). 

 Both of these seem to be among the first migrants to arrive in our area.  The Mniotilta is not found frequently downhill at CATIE, so it seems to prefer higher ground, without being a mountain species.  It is easy to recognise both because of its black-and-white stripes and its habit of creeping along tree branches.

The Peg-billed finch (Acanthidops bairdi) is a true mountain species but you have to get a good look in order to distinguish it from both the Slaty finch (Haplospiza rustica) and the Slaty flowerpiercer (Diglossa plumbea), which are also found in the mountains.  Luckily, I got a good look at the upturned bill of the Peg-billed finch at the edge of the forest.

Flycatchers are always an identification problem.  I was fortunate enough to see several Mountain elaenias (Elaenia frantzii) on this walk and to be rather more certain of the identification than on previous occasions.  It looks much like the very common Yellow-bellied elaenia (Elaenia flavogaster) but has no crest.  The only other flycatcher I saw was a probable Olive-sided flycatcher (Contupus cooperi).  It was perched on a high bare branch, rather too distant to be seen very clearly, making sorties and returning to the same location each time.  My first thought was that it was our commonest Contupus, the Tropical pewee (Contupus cinereus), but at that elevation it seems unlikely.  Because of the distant view, I couldn’t be completely sure, even though the Olive-sided is a considerably larger bird.  No other flycatchers were recorded except the beautiful Long-tailed silky-flycatcher (Ptilogonys caudatus), which actually belongs to a different family altogether. 

I didn’t have to walk the 7 km to Santa Cruz from Las Abras because a local man passing on horseback showed me a good dirt road down to Guayabo.  This puts my home at perhaps only three hours’ walk, uphill, from Las Abras, a maximum of four from the cloud forest and the possibility of seeing the near-legendary Resplendent quetzal (Pharomachrus mocinno).

Hummingbirds.  The walk also brought very nice close-up views of the Violet sabrewing (Campylopterus hemileucurus) and the Purple-throated mountain-gem (Lampornis calolaemus). 

The locals call the sabrewing the colibrí de montaña, although it is not specifically a mountain species, while the mountain-gem certainly is.  I have seen it quite frequently in the mountains here, and despite the range maps in the field guides I have not so far been able to identify the very similar White-throated mountain-gem (Lampornis castaneoventris) in our area.  

The list of birds for the day, excluding my common garden species, is completed by the Mountain robin (Turdus plebejus), a darker version of the Clay-coloured robin (Turdus grayi), Costa Rica’s national bird, and two tanagers.  These were the very pretty Silver-throated tanager (Tangara icterocephala) and the Common bush-tanager (Chlorospingus ophthalmicus).  Both of these are very commonly found starting at the altitude of Santa Cruz (1440 m) .

I am very pleased to have found some more good birding habitat within striking distance of my house, and a beautiful, and shorter, walk up to the cloud forest.  All the fine photos are courtesy of Karel Straatman.  Come back soon, Karel!

What joy yesterday to see a flash of yellow by the small pond and find a male Prothonotary warbler (Protonotaria citrea) flitting through the nearest guayabo.  Since my return home from hospital in mid-August, I had been on the look-out for the first migrant of the season and fully expected a Yellow warbler to be the first arrival.  What a lovely surprise to find this stunning male Prothonotary, a species I had so far not seen here in San Antonio.  Garrigues and Dean’s field guide indicates that it can arrive by mid-August and is found up to 1500 m, but it is more usual in the lowlands and close to water.  Its golden head, relatively long (for a warbler) pointed bill and the darker wings identify it fairly easily.  It puts my San Antonio house list at a respectable 139 species, and for a change we beat CATIE to the punch because they haven’t banded or seen a migrant yet this season.

Male Prothonotary captured and banded at CATIE, photo courtesy of Allan Beer

I suppose I was lucky that the months I missed through illness were July (all of it) and August (first part), because these are the most unproductive months for birdwatching here in Costa Rica.  Here’s a summary of what I notice after my absence:

1.  Young fledged birds of several common species are quite conspicuous, in particular Yellow-bellied elaenia, Passerini’s tanager and Palm tanager.   

2.  A pair of White-lined tanagers  (Tachyphonus rufus) is feeding two young Bronzed cowbirds (Molothrus aeneus), both larger than their ‘parents’.  I do not see cowbirds with much frequency here at home, and I briefly considered whether these might be the Shiny cowbird (Molothrus bonariensis) that is making incursions in the southern Caribbean.  The dark eye and lack of conspicuous ruff may also, however, be features of juvenile aeneus, I understand.

Male White-lined tanager at CATIE

3.  The fruit of the guayabo trees is falling everywhere, making natural food readily available and causing general scorn for the bananas on my feeders.  It also brings large numbers of butterflies, including the famously beautiful blue morpho.  Neighbour Marta Zúñiga made me a delicious jalea prepared from the guayaba fruit.

4.  Several common species are noticeably scarce: Cattle egret, Buff-throated saltator, Montezuma oropendola.  Is this a consequence of post-nesting or of the relative absence of heavy rain?  The Turrialba volcano is in full view and spouting steam for many hours each day.

5.  Neighbour, Wiet, just a couple of kilometers away in San Rafael now regularly has White-necked jacobin (Florisuga mellivora) and Green-breasted mango (Anthracothorax prevostii) at her hummingbird feeder, and this week she also reported a female Scarlet-thighed dacnis (Dacnis venusta)  that got into her house.  The latter species would be new here in San Antonio, despite the indications in the bird guides that I should get it regularly.

6.  Finally, Jorge Fernandez, experienced naturalist, guide and San Antonio resident, still has Slaty spinetails (Synallaxis brachyura) at his house just down the hill.  This would be another species for my San Antonio list if only it would stop hiding from me.

Blue-throated goldentail. It's a male!

After the excitement of the recently banded Blue-chested hummingbird (Amazilia amabilis), another unusual hummer fell into the nets at CATIE last week, the Blue-throated goldentail  (Hylocharis eliciae).  Unlike the amabilis, this species is already on the CATIE checklist but its last report was, it seems, many years ago.  I missed out on seeing both these personally because I can no longer get down to the banding station early mornings.  Luckily, Alejandra Martinez, in charge of CATIE’s monitoring programme, keeps me informed. 

Identification is relatively simple in the case of the male, although Garrigues warns that first looks may cause you to dismiss it as yet another Rufous-tailed hummingbird.    The Goldentail reaches 900 m on the Caribbean side and is perhaps  unlikely up here in San Antonio, while the Blue-chested would be quite out of range, its upper limit being only 500 m (CATIE is at 600 m).

These recent appearances down at CATIE, plus the beautiful sighting of the Violet-crowned woodnymph mentioned in my last post,  prompt me to insert here some notes on the hummingbirds that can be expected here on the Turrialba Volcano slope.  All the fine photographs are by Karel Straatman, a great lover of Costa Rica and of birds.

  In three years, I have positively identified only 6 species of hummingbird here in the village, but I have seen and identified with some certainty another 9 species in the Turrialba area.   It seems to me then that at least some of these 9 might appear here, plus there are still many other hummingbird species that, according to the literature, could occur here in San Antonio.  Garrigues & Dean’s authoritative fieldguide lists a total of 52 species for Costa Rica! 

Here, in order of frequency, are the 6 that I am sure of:

1.  Rufous-tailed hummingbird (Amazilia tzacatl); as the commonest hummer in the country, this one needs little introduction.  Almost every hummer I see here at home is this species.  You just look for the rufous tail and it’s a pretty safe bet.

Our very own hummingbird

2.  Violet sabrewing (Campylopterus hemileucurus); the locals call it, without much justification perhaps, the colibrí de montaña  (mountain hummingbird).  There is no larger hummingbird in Costa Rica, and its dark colour and the white in the corners of the tail make it instantly recognisable, even if you don’t get the downcurved bill.  It appears here fairly frequently, often pursued by Rufous-taileds.  It’s a middle-elevation bird (1,000-2,400 m) but we have also banded it at CATIE occasionally.

A regular garden visitor

3. Stripe-throated hermit (Phaethornis striigularis) shows up from time to time.  Perhaps best-called Little hermit, because the Costa Rican race doesn’t have any stripes on the throat.  Its small size, buffy colour and the typical tail and bill make it fairly easy to distinguish if you get a good look.  The hermits seem to prefer forest and there’s just not enough of it around San Antonio to make this a common bird.

4. Green hermit (Phaethornis guy); this one, also a forest species, has shown up just a very few times, but today I found a lek with several males in a forest patch up above Las Truchas.  Obviously, they are a nesting species here, at this altitude.  The long central tail-feathers and  large size mean that the main difficulty for me is confusion with the Long-billed hermit (Phaethornis longirostris) that is so common down at CATIE.  When you see plenty of green, you can be pretty sure it’s the Green hermit, and in actual fact I have still not seen longirostris here.  Both these species are as large as the Violet sabrewing.

Green hermits also nest at San Antonio

5.  Green-breasted mango (Anthracothorax prevostii); I have just a couple of sightings of this species, reported “rarely above 1000 m”, according to Garrigues;  in addition, we are at the extreme eastern end of its reported range.  The stripe down the throat makes identification fairly simple.

6.  The final species is the White-necked jacobin (Florisuga mellivora), which I have seen here just twice, even though it is to be expected quite regularly up to 1000 m.

How about the other 9 species that I have seen in the Turrialba region?   Well, six of them are mountain hummingbird species that can usually be seen on the Turrialba Volcano road, which, incidentally, is to be reopened on July22nd 2011.  These are: Fiery-throated hummingbird, Magnificent hummingbird, Green violet-ear, Purple-throated mountain-gem, Scintillant hummingbird and Volcano hummingbird.  I have great difficulty separating Scintillant from Volcano because I never seem to get a good look at a male.  A couple of these have also appeared with some regularity at a long rabo de gato hedge just up the hill in Santa Cruz.

Truly Magnificent!

Green violet-ear in a beautiful setting

This is the Mountain-gem found on the Turrialba Volcano

The remaining three are the aforementioned Long-billed hermit and Violet-crowned woodnymph (already present at nearby San Rafael), plus the stunning Snowcap, the signature bird of the Rancho Naturalista over by Tuis.  Stiles & Skutch claim that this latter species may wander up as high as 1400 m, so I live in hope. 

Incredibly, if you check your Garrigues & Dean field guide, you’ll see that I ought to be able to expect at least another 19 species here in my area!  And they aren’t even rarities.  Where do they all hide?

Green on blue: Beautiful male Violet-crowned Woodnymph

At an elevation of 1200 m, San Rafael is a good bit higher than the usual limit for the Violet-crowned woodnymph (Thalurania colombica).  My good friend Toby has a house with a sweeping view of the Turrialba Volcano to the left, Rio Guayabo and the National Monument in the centre, and the Rio Reventazon valley and the Caribbean lowlands to the right.

The house backs directly onto the Juan Espino Blanco Reserve and so is wonderfully situated as a starting point for rambles along the forest edge.  Our visits there are usually social calls and so any birdwatching that I do is at best cursory.  The best plan is to take your beer and wander down from the house to the mirador for a great view out over thick woodland down towards the Caribbean lowlands.  Then you can do a circuit all the way around the property, passing along the fenceline of the Juan Espino Blanco Reserve and returning just in time for another beer.

Last Sunday, with its birthday celebrations, brought two birdie surprises, in addition to the usual fine food and drink.  The guarumu tree at the side of the platform is rather sparse, but the guarumu is a tree that many birds and animals find attractive.  I always check them out for sloths, which hold them in high esteem.  This time, in flew a male Green honeycreeper (Chlorophanes spiza).  No big deal in most places, since it’s a fairly common bird on both the Caribbean and the Pacific slope.  However, it’s the first honeycreeper that I’ve seen up here in three years and it almost made me forget my second beer.

Male Green honeycreeper shows his yellow bill

From looking at the distribution of the three Costa Rican species in the bird guides, you would perhaps expect, in our region, either this one or the Shining honeycreeper (Cyanerpes lucidus) with its yellow legs.  In fact, I have found the Red-legged honeycreeper (Cyanerpes cyaneus) to appear more frequently down at CATIE on the other side of Turrialba.  Garrigues has the Green honeycreeper extending its range to slightly higher elevations than the other two, so I’m going to keep on the look-out to try and add this one to my home list.  I can’t count San Rafael, unfortunately, as it’s 2 km away.

Remembering the second beer, I stumbled back up to the house, grinning from ear to ear.  Seizing the second beer on the veranda, I plumped myself down for some self-congratulation but noticed to my shock that the hummingbird on the rabo de gato didn’t have a rufous tail.  I’m jealous of Toby for many reasons, but mostly for the size of his rabo de gato.  I should explain that this is a very pretty bush with red or purple flowers on the end of long stems, highly favoured by many species of hummers.  Toby’s plants always do better than mine.

This was not, however, our common resident hummer, the Rufous-tailed.  Unfortunately, it was a female (they always seem to outnumber us) but it was up close and gave me ample opportunity to check all the field marks.  I was pretty much stumped, as usual, but I decided, by process of elimination, that it was a female Violet-crowned woodnymph (Thalurania colombica), a species that I have seen only rarely because for the most part it’s found in the lowlands. Nagging doubt was gnawing at me.

The third beer was a triumph, however, for no sooner did I have it in my grasp than a stunning male Violet-crowned woodnymph alighted on the rabo de gato and treated us all to a close-up view of its contrasting shining green and violet.  Ha ha!  How happy I am, not only to have seen such a beauty, but also to have finally made a correct identification of a female hummingbird.  

A fourth beer was not necessary.

I was heading uphill towards Santa Cruz and Guayabo on our badly crumbling dirt road when I glanced over to the left to the thickly wooded hills above the Rio Guayabito; thickly wooded is a comparative term in this area of small, cheese-producing dairy farms, where the most frequently seen birds are black flocks of grackles and white flocks of Cattle egrets.  The tallest trees on the hills are the stands of eucalyptus that mark the village of El Carmen up on the main road to Pacayas.  That’s where I’d played football several times and discovered the trillo, a cowpath actually, connecting El Carmen and San Antonio.  It comes out in San Antonio just opposite the biggest house in town, which stands on the right a little bit higher up the hill than the headquarters of the Turrialba Volcano park guards, my next-door neighbours.

I had always planned to scout the forest patches to see if they hold any forest species that have managed to hold on in an area that originally was very heavily forested, but ….  Perhaps familiarity breeds contempt.  At all events, this day my glance over towards El Carmen took me through the gate to the dairy on the left above doña Blanca’s and across the open fields.  It was mid-afternoon with heavy clouds over the mountains.

Piratic flycatchers and Yellow-green vireos were calling in the garden as I left, but the path down to the Rio Guayabo held nothing but Rufous-collared sparrows and Yellow-faced grassquits.  Still, it was a beautiful afternoon for a stroll.  Here’s a nice photo of the pretty little sparrow that I sometimes take for granted, courtesy of Karel Straatman.

I like it cool but not too cold says the Rufous-collared sparrow

To get to the Rio Guayabito at this point, you have to go through a couple of portones.  In England they’d have stiles but here they just drag a line of stakes across that are attached by barbed wire and then hook the last stake to another one that’s fixed at the side.   The path is muddy and covered in cow patties.  At the river the crossing was easy enough over the rocks despite the rain in the mountains.  It’s only a few yards across, and the few cows in and beside the river reminded me why no-one further down in San Antonio would dream of drinking the water directly from the river.  I looked in vain for the Sunbitterns and chirascuá that frequently call from that area and then followed the river uphill.  A band of Gray-headed chachalacas was the only signs of bird life until I headed into the forest.

There is little difference, it seems to me, between walking in this patch of remnant forest and treading a forest path in some of the fabled parts of the country.  The vegetation is just as beautiful to behold, and the birds conceal themselves just as easily.  They call from a maddeningly close distance but are so hard to find among all that foliage.  Sum total inside this forest remnant: one species, the Olivaceous woodcreeper (Sittasomus griseicapillus).  It gave its little trill and allowed one fairly decent look in what was already the semi-dark.  It’s neither a spectacular nor a rare species, but it’s the first I’ve seen on my home territory and so it made my day.  Woodcreepers in general are an identification nightmare but fortunately this one is the only small, short-billed guy with no streaking.  The only other woodcreeper I have been able to identify in San Antonio is the slightly larger Streak-headed woodcreeper (Lepidocolaptes souleyetii).  It was reasonably easy to find in my first year here but  I have not been able to report it for quite some time now.

Back out of the thick woods and now covered in sweat from the high humidity that results from all the vegetation, I plodded uphill towards El Carmen with mist and clouds now coming in both from the mountain and the Caribbean and was rewarded with two unexpected species that are surely always in the area but that are new additions to my San Antonio list.  First up was the White-naped brush-finch (Atlapetes albinucha), previously called the Yellow-throated brush-finch.  It has both a white nape and a yellow throat, so you can understand the confusion.  It’s a fairly common bird of middle elevations, they say.  A pair of them were in low brush at the forest edge.  Immediately afterwards, I spotted a Gray-crowned yellowthroat (Geothlypis poliocephala) taking food to its nest in a large tussock of grass in the middle of the overgrown cow pasture.  It seemed to raise the feathers on its head somewhat in alarm.  The male is fairly easy to distinguish because it has a grey head with just a bit of a black mask.  This one was definitely a male, and I say thank goodness because the females are a much tougher id.   I am very familiar with the Common yellowthroat (Geothlypis trichas) of North America, but it seems not to be common at all in Costa Rica.  The Olive-crowned yellowthroat (Geothlypis semiflava) is frequently caught in the mist nets down at CATIE but has not yet appeared up here.  The Garrigues guide puts its usual elevation limit at about 1200 m, which is exactly the altitude of San Antonio.

With three new species for the home list, I was able to saunter back down the hill with a smirk on my face but wondering what else might turn up in all the other little local spots that I still haven’t gotten around to visiting.

Philadelphia vireo courtesy of Karel Straatman

I’v always found that vireos are a tricky proposition when it comes to identification, especially here in Costa Rica.  They are mostly greenish birds with a bit of yellow here and there; in fact, the very word vireo is Latin for I am green.  Garrigues & Dean’s field guide, the Birds of Costa Rica, lists 16 family members, with illustrations of just 15 of them, because the northern migrant Black-whiskered vireo (Vireo altiloquus) is only a casual visitor, recorded infrequently on the Caribbean side.  Here’s a run-down of what I think I’ve learned so far about vireos in my area, on the Turrialba Volcano slopes.  

Firstly, what seems to be a slow-moving warbler almost always turns out to be a vireo.  Then, however, six of the species, including the aforementioned Black-whiskered, are definitely not to be expected, either because they are very rare migrants (White-eyed vireo, Blue-headed vireo, Warbling vireo, Black-whiskered vireo) or are not readily found in our area (Mangrove vireo, Scrub greenlet).  Actually, there is an old record of White-eyed vireo for the CATIE campus at Turrialba but I have not so far been able to trace the circumstances of the sighting.    

The last two species illustrated in the Costa Rica guide (p. 228 of Garrigues & Dean) are the strikingly plumaged Rufous-browed peppershrike (Cyclarhis gujanensis) and the Green shrike-vireo (Vireolanius pulchellus).  Both are residents and should be around here somewhere, but they would be an easy id, and I don’t really ever expect to run across them because there’s been no sign of them in three years! 

Likewise, and shown on the same page, the rather neat-looking Tawny-crowned greenlet and the Yellow-winged vireo (also residents) have managed to skilfully conceal themselves from me, despite bearing some fairly easily distinguishing field marks.  Where do all these common to fairly common birds manage to hide?  Do they not know I’m just dying to catch a glimpse of them?

Three years of poking around my garden have allowed me to identify with certainty only 5 of the gang of 16.  In order of frequency, these are:

1. Yellow-throated vireo (Vireo flavifrons)

2. Red-eyed vireo (Vireo olivaceus)

3. Yellow-green vireo (Vireo flavoviridis)

4. Lesser greenlet (Hylophilus decurtatus)

5. Brown-capped vireo (Vireo leucophrys)

The Yellow-throated vireo is the most frequently seen

I think it’s best to split these into the migrants (the first two, and the third, the southern migrant Yellow-green) and those that nest here, because then you can exclude the migrants when they’re out of season.  It’s also a good split for me because I know from experience that any vireo I see is likely to be one of these three.

Here in San Antonio, the Yellow-throated and the Red-eyed vireos are to be expected almost on any given day in fall migration, but only the former has appeared here for the trip back north in spring.  The Yellow-throated is an easy id even for the novice because of the spectacles it wears, but the Red-eyed has to be separated from the Yellow-green when both birds are present in the country.  I find that the Yellow-green has lots of yellow below.  Garrigues warns that some Red-eyed vireos can also show yellow, but if you get a good look, the black line above the white eyebrow is a sure mark. 

A recuperating Red-eyed vireo

I did have one spring sighting (2010) of a bird that I thought might be a Philadelphia vireo (Vireo philadelphicus), but I got only a fleeting look.  You would think that this should be an easy bird to find here, particularly since it is banded from time to time down in Turrialba at CATIE, but I have never seen it for sure up here at 1200 m.  I imagine I will probably have difficulty with it in the field.  Will it look like a slow-moving Tennessee warbler?  Will it let me have a clear view of the cap to distinguish it from the Brown-capped vireo? 

The three remaining species that I have seen here are breeding residents, but the only vireo that I now hear quite often in the garden is the southern migrant Yellow-green vireo.  This is a bird that is in Costa Rica only between late January and late October.  After nesting, it migrates south.  This is the first year that I have recorded the Yellow-green  here consistently in San Antonio.  Its song seems to me to begin with a chirp like a House sparrow’s and then continue with a fairly measured series of afterthoughts.  I first became familiar with it in San Ramón de Alajuela, but its current stay in my rainbow eucalyptus trees (presumably nesting up high) have made it easy for me now to identify the song.

The Lesser greenlet is a bird that at first I was only able to hear, never see.  Finally, however, I got a really good look at one over by Guayabo National Monument, and I don’t think it can really be mistaken for anything else.  I still haven’t had a clear look at one here in the garden, but this one at Guayabo looked exactly like the illustration in Garrigues & Dean.

Finally, the Brown-capped vireo was present here two years ago but hasn’t been back since, so far as I know.  It should be relatively easy to find, and the brown cap distinguishes it quite well.  I would be delighted should it reappear.

I’m happy to say, then, that these greeny guys are no longer as baffling as they once were, but I will be in for real trouble should any of those rare migrants turn up.

From Turrialba to Irazú

 The two highest volcanoes in Costa Rica are Irazú (3400 m) and Turrialba (3300 m).  The high mountain country is a world not seen by most visitors to the Costa Rica.  It contrasts strikingly with the sticky tropical climate and flat topography of the lowlands, and its bird and plant life is different again in many ways from that of the Central Valley where most of the nation’s population lives.

I was finally able to explore the surprisingly accessible dirt road connecting the two volcanoes in the first week of April because I had a four-wheel drive vehicle (a Toyota Rav4 – what a delight!) at my disposal during my daughter’s visit.  The recent death of our Ford Ranger had made it necessary to rent briefly.  Actually, the road has been improved lately and even a two-wheel drive vehicle could probably pass without too much difficulty.  The most beautiful section comes between La Central and the road down to Pacayas, before ascending to Irazú, but the whole drive is well worthwhile.  Buttercups, daisies and clover!  The road comes out just below the official entrance to the Irazú Volcano, a good bit above the museum.

Great birding here

I took two trips, and though neither was dedicated exclusively to birdwatching, I was not only able to become more familiar with some of the more common highland species but also to note two North American species that I had never before seen in Costa Rica, Mourning dove (Zenaida macroura) and, quite possibly, Merlin (Falco columbarius).

Despite my having had a pretty good look at the small falcon, at first perched and then in flight, I’m still tempted to assume that it was a female American kestrel because Stiles & Skutch (Birds of Costa Rica) note only one Spring migration sighting, in mid-March.  Garrigues & Dean’s more recent and now standard field guide also sets the migration limits between September and mid-March.  However, I noted only a faint moustache on this brown-backed bird, and no trace at all of rufous.  It alighted twice on high isolated trees before finally taking off fast downslope.  My relative unfamiliarity with Merlins adds to my uncertainty.  The sighting was in the open dairy country below the tiny hamlet of Guarumus as we descended to the beautiful little mountain town of Pacayas, which is situated more or less between, but below, the two volcanoes.  We also saw Red-tailed hawk and Swallow-tailed kite soaring in this same habitat.     

The Mourning doves were just a little further down towards Pacayas, but there were at least a dozen of them, some displaying courtship behaviour, and all quite unfazed by our car’s approach.  On my second trip, with daughter Mariana two days later, we found a single bird at Capellades, a few kilometers further east and much closer to the Turrialba Volcano than to Irazú.  I drive through Capellades very frequently and I will make a point of checking all doves now each time I pass through.  Perhaps I overlooked it before. 

Access to the Turrialba Volcano is still blocked at the portón about 4 km short of the top, and only a little way above the last hamlet of La Central.  Here, the Volcán Turrialba Lodge and the tiny but charming café Danza Con Nubes continue to be much hampered by the lack of tourists. 

We saw no one there at all on either trip, despite the stunning beauty of the location.  The Lodge seemed out of operation, at least for this week, but we enjoyed chocolate caliente and pan casero at Danza Con Nubes, even though la mujer had not arrived to open the place officially that day.

The section of the Turrialba Volcano road above La Central that still remains open is well worth a visit.  Huge amounts of steam pour from the volcano above and the smell of sulphur is noticeable at times.  The section just before and right at the portón seems always packed with birds.  An aptly named Large-footed finch (Pezopetes capitalis) developed his feet and leg muscles right at the side of the road, paying us no attention at all, while the three typical, grey mountain finches (keep open p. 288 in Garrigues & Dean!) were all present.  I was actually unable to quite pin down the Slaty finch (Haplospiza rustica) this time, but we had good looks at the Peg-billed finch (Acanthidops bairdi) and the Slaty flowerpiercer (Diglossa plumbea) with their differing bill shapes.

The Large-footed finch is a mostly dark-coloured bird, but the Yellow-thighed finch (Pselliophorus tibialis) is also present here.  We saw it also feeding close to the ground, but it appears almost as black as the Sooty robin (Turdus nigrescens). 

This thrush, known locally as Escarchado (Frost-bitten), together with the Rufous-collared sparrow (Zonotrichia capensis), seems to be the lord of the domain in this high country.  Its prominent yellow bill and legs are as striking as the sometimes hidden thighs of the aforementioned finch.  We saw only the occasional Volcano junco (Junco volcani), a species found normally at the very highest elevations.

The other page to keep open in Garrigues & Dean when you’re in these mountains is p. 246 which has the nightingale-thrushes.  Several of these sing almost as beautifully as the famous jilguero, the Black-faced solitaire (Myadestes melanops), which we neither saw nor heard.  We did, however, have close looks at Black-billed nightingale-thrush (Catharus gracilirostris), distinguished by the brown band across its breast. while the Slaty-backed nightingale-thrush (Catharus fuscater) sang in the background.  The Orange-billed nightingale-thrush (Catharus aurantiirostris), with its strikingly pretty bill and leg colours, is seen much more often lower down.  It did not quite make this list but has appeared recently in San Antonio and Santa Cruz, both at lower elevations. 

Another bird found at similar elevations but which I have not yet found at home is the Ochraceous wren (Troglodytes ochraceus), a bright cinnamon version of the House wren.  One flew across the road just a little way above Pacayas as we made our way home on the second trip.  Near the same location, I saw what I thought were two guans, but they were brown, not black, and must have been simply Gray-headed chachalacas that had climbed too high!

Tanagers were a disappointment, the only sighting being of the Sooty-capped bush-tanager (Chlorospingus pileatus) with its lightning-bolt eye-stripe (Garrigues’ very apt description).  The Common bush-tanager (Chlorospingus ophthalmicus) never did appear.

Flycatchers too were at a premium, the only noteables being the Mountain elaenia (Elaenia frantzii), a crestless version of the common Yellow-bellied elaenia, and the pretty little Black-capped flycatcher (Empidonax atriceps), one of only two resident empidonax and another highland speciality.

The last group to be mentioned are the hummingbirds.  These always give me trouble, and this trip was no exception.  The only sure identifications I was able to make were of Fiery-throated hummingbird (Panterpe insignis) which, as usual, refused to show its throat colours, and Purple-throated mountain-gem (Lampornis calolaemus).  The former’s blue rump was particularly striking, while the white on the latter’s head was so bright that I thought it was a Snowcap (Microchera albocoronata) at first.  The tiny Volcano (Selasphorus flammula) and Scintillant (Selasphorus scintilla) hummingbirds look more like large insects at first, and I again had difficulty distinguishing the two.  You never seem to get a male with a bright throat colour.  Here’s a photo so that you can judge for yourself.

Volcano or Scintillant?

We saw no tourists or birders on either of the two trips, so any unusual sightings you make could turn out to be invaluable.  Be sure to greet all the locals as you drive by!  As my friend Fabio remarked, gente de pueblo, siempre saluda.