Peru Manu: Part I Aug 03—15, 2006
Posted by Steve Hilty
Steve Hilty
Steve Hilty is the senior author of A Guide to the Birds of Colombia, and the recently published Birds of Venezuela, both by Princeton University Press. Other credits inclu...Related Trips
Some will say the incomparable Andean Cocks-of-the-rock at their lek, nine of them point-blank, was the finest moment. The Cock-of-the-rock display was indeed impressive, and I have never witnessed a group of these birds so completely habituated to humans as these. Others may recall a whirlwind of colorful tanagers in mixed species flocks; the shadowy image of a male Lyre-tailed Nightjar, tail spread wide, as it sang a yodeling song into gathering dusk; the enchanting notes of the Chestnut-breasted Wren, which seemed as if produced by a delightfully cunning elf; or hummingbirds and barbets and tanagers, each one more colorful even than the fruit spread before them; or the Pavonine Cuckoo’s first timid responses to an unseen competitor and his eventual bravado performance that would have rivaled any Italian tenor. For me the fabulous midnight (and moonlight) chorus of owls, a Pauraque, and three species of potoos simultaneously at the Amazonia Lodge embodied all that is wild in this great wilderness.
Maybe it was simply being in this vast wild place, witnessing the elevational replacement and change in the plants and the birds as we ascended from Cuzco first through rank after rank of dry scrub and high puna, and eventually descended the great green wall of the Andes toward the lowlands. Hummers, furnariids, tyrannids, and a few finches dominated the high, dry zones. But soon these were overshadowed by a rainbow of tanagers that drifted, ephemeral-like, between swirls of clouds, offered tantalizing glimpses, and left us longing for more and, at the same time, wondering how such heavenly creatures could allow themselves to be viewed by mortal eyes. Eventually, at lower elevation still, where forests grew taller and only stray beams of light reached the murky depths of the forest understory, untold ranks of more modestly attired antbirds and shade-loving wrens dominated our birding quests.
At the Hacienda Amazonia we were up early and out late for birds, and enjoyed peaceful meals, the quiet hospitality of the family that operates the lodge, reflection and rest on the big porch, and, in the evenings, watched candles cast long shadows on spare walls. There was also the touch of stocking feet on spotless wood floors, oropendolas and caciques just beyond the porch, and a parade of hummingbirds (nine or more species) visiting flowering shrubs around the lodge building. We climbed hills and explored old plantation woodlands and mysterious lagoons. Soon we were off on a predawn walk to a shadow-filled riverbank, a rendezvous with a river, and a dashing journey downstream through foothills, beyond the Andes, coasting out onto the perimeter of the Amazon basin itself, riding a river into one of the greatest lowland rainforests on earth and the beginning of yet another remarkable journey?the Manu Biosphere Reserve Part II.
From a quilt-work landscape of wheat fields, lupine, remnants of Puna, and colorfully-clad descendants of once proud Incas in quietly traditional highland villages, we had?in just over a week?descended through the clouds to the steamy feet of the Andes firmly planted at the base of the Amazon. It was a glorious ride through one of the richest of all floras and faunas. So tantalizing, so mysterious, and so beautiful. I’d go again tomorrow.