Mexico: Oaxaca Christmas: Birds and Culture Dec 20—29, 2005
Posted by Brad Boyle
Brad Boyle
Brad Boyle is an ecologist who has done extensive research on cloud forest ecosystems. He holds a B.Sc. in zoology from the University of British Columbia and a Ph.D. in ec...Related Trips
Alice and I promised ourselves two things for this year’s Oaxaca Christmas tour. One, do something completely different. Two, find a record number of species. Happily, we kept both promises.
Our first morning, memorable alone for a visit to the site of one of the earliest and most imposing urban centers in Mexico?Monte Alban?featured unexpected birding delights as we explored the surrounding thorn scrub and savored expansive views of the Oaxaca Valley. Berylline and Dusky hummingbirds probed the white trumpets of the morning-glory trees (yes, trees!) alongside migrant Ruby-throated Hummers. Rufous-capped Warblers chattered in the thickets while a sampler of migrant warblers?Orange-crowned, Nashville, Yellow-rumped, Townsend’s, Black-and-white, and Wilson’s?foraged at eye level in the tangled Burseras. Several of these trees were loaded with the oily, odorous fruits coveted by vireos. Sure enough, not only did we find a Plumbeous Vireo enjoying the feast, but also a sought-after endemic Golden Vireo.
By late morning, when we finally headed into the ruins, most of us assumed the birding was over. Not so. With White-tailed Kites and a White-tailed Hawk circling overhead, Cassin’s, Tropical, and Thick-billed kingbirds perched side by side with eye-catching Vermilion Flycatchers, and an unusually bold Blue Mockingbird hopping into view, our guide had his work cut out for him, keeping everyone’s attention as he explained the connection between temple orientation and the intricate cycling of the Zapotec lunar and solar calendars.
On another morning we visited the hilltop ruins of Yagul, more compact than Monte Alban yet equally splendid in their fortress-like setting. The final approach traverses fields and farms teeming with all the birds you’d expect in rural Mexico: Crested Caracaras, White-winged and Inca doves, Great Kiskadees, White-collared Seedeaters, Curve-billed Thrashers, Bullock’s and Black-vented orioles, and hordes of assorted migrant kingbirds and sparrows. Finally we tore ourselves away to seek local endemics in the cactus scrub at the foot of the hill: a diminutive Beautiful Hummingbird—a close relative of Lucifer’s Hummingbird—methodically working the tiny white flowers that dot the ribs of Myrtillocactus geometrizans, the giant candelabra cactus; a Gray-breasted Woodpecker soaking up the morning sun; handsome Bridled Sparrows foraging quietly under the Acacias; and a gang of Boucard’s Wrens—Cactus Wrens in miniature—grumbling their disapproval.
After inspecting one of the largest ceremonial ball courts in Mexico (after Chichén Itzá) and remnants of intricate inset-mosaic stonework known otherwise only from Mitla, we headed back down the valley to enjoy that most delightful of Oaxacan customs: a lazy lunch at a country restaurant. Relaxing in the welcoming shade of El Patio’s courtyard, we experienced first hand why Oaxacan food—just now beginning to make its appearance in the U.S.—is regarded by many as the pinnacle of Mexican cuisine (just don’t say that to anyone from Puebla).
It’s not just food that Oaxacans take seriously. Consider their fiestas. Occasions that would be cause for modest celebration elsewhere somehow escalate into civic extravaganzas. “Night of the Radishes” began innocently enough as a farmers’ market competition in the late 1800s. You know: the best decorated produce stall, the fanciest rooster, the biggest pumpkin. Somehow someone got the idea of decorating their stall not with flowers but with radishes. Someone else upped the ante by carving them as well. The rest is history. Today, thousands flock to Oaxaca on December 23 to see three-foot-high replicas of the Virgin of Guadalupe, the Santo Domingo Church, the town hall, the bandstand, and even complete brass bands with musicians, tubas, and xylophones—all carved out of radishes. Second prize this year (and my favorite) was a scale model of a traditional mezcal factory featuring mezcal plants, fermentation vats, stills, and an oblivious drunk passed out under a radish palm tree.
We spend some days just birding. One of our favorite all-day trips, La Cumbre west, explores humid pine forests at nearly 10,000 feet along the backbone of Cerro San Felipe. This year we almost didn’t make it: rebuffed by drizzle, fog, and wind, we retreated to the valley to bird elsewhere. Fortunately we returned another day when both the weather and the birds were on our side. Alice and I have birded a lot at this location, but that day was easily the best we’ve ever had. In one morning, we saw all the species we usually see in three high-elevation days. We had the good luck to hit one mixed flock after another, each flock offering a slightly different mix than the one before: garrulous Gray-barred Wrens and Steller’s Jay followed by secretive Dwarf Jays; Rose-throated Becard, Hepatic Tanagers, and multiple species of migrant warblers including the pine-specialist Hermit Warbler; and Brown Creeper, Olive Warbler, Crescent-chested Warbler, Golden-browed Warbler, and Mexican Chickadee.
But aside from flocks we had other remarkable moments. Remember the pair of Collared Towhees that popped obligingly into view at our turn-around? Or that gorgeous Salvia patch where we had to make a split-second choice between the Blue-throated Hummingbird on the left or—who could forget the agony—the Chestnut-capped Brushfinch on the right? Or two unexpected cloud forest species, Black Robin and Aztec Thrush, in a single binocular view?
This brings me to our promises. Having seen just about everything we could reasonably expect to see up high gave us the excuse we needed to go somewhere totally new. A vote at dinner made it official. The next day we left the Valley of Oaxaca on an all-day blitz to the Isthmus of Tehuantepec. It was a long drive, but a gamble that paid off: 13 new species for the tour, including Orange-fronted Parakeet, White-throated Magpie-Jay, Red-breasted Chat, Sumichrast’s Sparrow, Orange-breasted Bunting, and Yellow-winged Cacique. Not everybody saw everything in that fast-paced flock at the turnoff to Santa María Ecatepec, but everybody saw something worth seeing.
Thus we kept our second promise: 176 species, more than on any of the previous 12 tours. Imagine if we’d gone to the Sierra Norte as well. Thanks everyone for a great trip!