10 February 2015. Finca Lerida, Chiriqui, Panama. In the last week of my three-week stay in Boquete, my Spanish lessons were shorter but more intense. As a result by 10 a.m. each day, school was finished. On this particular day, a look at the surrounding mountaintops suggested that Finca Lerida would be enjoying very fine weather so I decided to go and explore its many trails again.
Just as on my recent return trip to the quetzal trail (see Tufted Flycatcher post) , I determined to take my time and enjoy everything the forests around Finca Lerida had to offer. I often cover a lot of ground when I’m birding but I’m not really sure whether slow ambling ranks as effective cardiac exercise; I rather doubt it. But I can say that around Boquete, and at Finca Lerida in particular, the elevation makes all walking a workout. Boquete is at 3,900 feet above sea level, and I’d guess Finca Lerida is another four or five hundred feet higher still.
After a heart and lung-stretching hike up, endlessly up, through ranks of coffee bushes I made it to the fringes of the forest backdrop where the interesting bird are to be found. But there’s lots more than just the birds to enjoy here. On any branch that offers a reasonably horizontal surface, many of the large canopy trees support dense growths of bromeliads, orchids, and grasses . Bromeliads are designed to capture rainwater in the overlapping leaf bases and, with enough rain, the added weight often causes bits of branches to break and fall; the ground in this rain forest is littered with such debris. I found a piece of branch about eighteen inches long encrusted with a fascinating blanket of two or three types of bromeliad (one in flower), small orchids, bamboo, mosses and goodness knows what else. Holding and inspecting this microcosm of the treetop world, I wanted to take it home with me, but it didn’t take many moments’ thought to see far too many obstacles; Agriculture & Food Canada not the least of them. Here’s a photo of that little piece of jungle treetop.
Continuing along the path I caught movement deep within the understory – a flash of violet. I waited and hoped for whatever it was to move again. It did and flitted a little closer until, through a gap in the greenery, I could make out a small, iridescent violet hummingbird with a long decurved bill. This is how forest birding goes; the tropical rainforest vegetation is extremely thick, birds appear and disappear in milli-seconds; you would never want to be lost in it. For once my camera agreed to focus on the bird rather than the branches in front or the landscape behind and I was able to get this picture, good enough to identify it as a Violet Sabrewing. A day or two later, I commented on my sighting it to a local expert who nonchalantly responded that Violet Sabrewings are quite common around here. “They might be to you.” I replied. He just smiled.
Continuing slowly along the trail, with a deep valley on one side and thick rainforest on the other, I became aware of a strange, regular and repetitive call carrying through the forest with a resonance something like a cross between a squeaky gate, a metallic clang and an electric crackle; although none of those really do it justice. It was acutely difficult trying to locate whatever it was and I don’t think I have ever spent as much time and patience in search of one elusive creature; I didn’t know whether I was hearing a bird, a monkey or perhaps even someone pounding steel fenceposts. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be moving around so I persevered in my search knowing that I was probably looking for a needle in a haystack. It ended in triumph though, for high above me I found a calling male Three-wattled Bellbird, a curious creature if ever there was. Follow this link and listen and see for yourself. My own photos don’t do it justice. I’d heard of bellbirds but had absolutely no expectation of seeing or hearing one in my short time in Panama; it was such a surprise and thrill that it was unquestionably Bird of the Day, even displacing the flashy Violet Sabrewing of a little earlier.
When eventually the bellbird flew off, I realized how hungry and weary I’d become. It was enough for one day, so I headed back downhill to the coffee shop for a very late lunch. I wouldn’t normally make mention of meal-time moments, but as I got comfortable outside the coffee shop, a Flame–colored Tanager joined me, clearly expecting that I would share my empanada lunch with him. I think we’ve all seen this sort of conditioned, easy-pickings behaviour by birds at some time, usually it’s urban House Sparrows, and I also recall being impressed by brazen Baltic Gulls cleaning up leftover Pizza at a Stockholm café. But if ever there was an appropriate metaphor for the searing tropical colour of Finca Lerida, it would be this spectacular tanager (and not forgetting the Green Violet-ear hummingbirds.)
