Grand Venezuela Feb 17—Mar 06, 2007
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
A final dinner review of highlights and best birds or experiences of our trip revealed, as expected, a diverse array of comments, but there was almost unanimous support for one event—a defining moment, perhaps, of what nature travel in new and exotic lands brings to those who take the time to look. That moment was when a lovely pair of Pearl Kites came to sit and watch us (or so it seemed) in the desert. We have no inkling of what triggered their arrival or what thoughts, if any, fired across the neuronal synapses in their tiny brains as they watched our gathering, but we do know that, for us, it was one of those rare moments when the lives of birds and humans seem to transcend boundaries.
Deserts everywhere are magical at dawn, for it is a time when birds are active and songful, and cool breezes caress and give life to a spare land that stands in sharp focus. At dawn, desert air is crisp and clean, not tortured by withering heat and deceptive images sculptured in shimmering waves of light. It is a time when sounds are clear and minds eager with anticipation, even urgency, because we know that soon the moment will be lost. Soon a white-hot sun will draw up the last drops of morning dew, silence the morning chorus, and lend strength to fickle winds that bring dull haze and grit to a land that waits colorless and silent in withering midday heat.
We were mindful of this "dawn" urgency because we knew these moments would not last. So, while we were busily trying to see a furtive White-whiskered Spinetail that moved with tantalizing stealth in a dense shrub, two kites, unbeknownst to us, came to perch on adjacent cardon cactuses that stood like sentinels on the opposite roadside. With backs turned and attentions distracted, we were unaware of the presence of these ethereal creatures until someone turned and noticed them, whereupon we immediately lost interest in the spinetail, not incidentally one of the most dramatically marked of its genus. But the spinetail, with its perverse habits and furtive nature, was no match for this sight of the angelic kites—lovely creatures exuding a kind of charisma and disarming fearlessness as they sat so close, contemplating us from atop thorny perches. Fluffing, turning their heads, occasionally preening, and forever peering down at us through dark red eyes and visual acuity beyond human imagination, it was as if they were attempting to comprehend the mass of shuffling creatures beneath them. We stared back through Zeiss- and Leica-equipped eyes.
Did they know, or could they comprehend what they were seeing? Were they merely curious, or were we intruders to be regarded amicably until contrary evidence was presented? It was, in all regards, one of those rare moments in nature when humans and the birds that they so admire seemed joined in harmony and spirit, in unspoken communication. The kites remained, in kind, to regard their human beholders too, oblivious to the clatter of cameras and rude unfastening of Velcro, and it was as if neither party wished to break this momentary bond. A Troupial calling on the hillside behind and a Pale-headed Jacamar's shimmery trill in a nearby wash reminded us that this desert had many treasures, but still the kites held us, fixed us with their gazes, and we, in turn, remained transfixed, holding onto this wonderful moment. More than ten minutes passed. Then, without a sound, without warning, the pair took wing, silently, effortlessly moving up the valley.
What else topped our list of nature moments? A half-dozen Agami Herons one morning; a steep descent into the display arena of perhaps 20 Andean Cocks-of-the-rock; exquisitely coiffed Vermilion Cardinals in a desert valley (something about that desert morning); the play of light and dancing colors on a Golden-tailed Starfrontlet; the anticipation and eventual tentative appearance of a Plain-flanked Rail, now (sadly) one of Venezuela's rarest and most endangered species; an exquisite Crested Quetzal in an Andean cloud forest; a Great Potoo mute and immobile on a tree branch; the rush of color and noise of Red-and-green Macaws passing overhead; and perhaps even the near-whisper-quiet emergence of Band-tailed Nighthawks flicking over a llanos river at dusk. All this beauty, at times, seemed to run on a separate, if parallel track, to that of Venezuela's friendly, if brash, human population that seems more concerned with despoiling its environment, or at least ignoring it, than living in harmony with it. Only in the quiet open spaces of the llanos did humans and wildlife seem to coexist with something approaching harmony.
Venezuela is a large and complicated country, complex with humans and their myriad activities, and complex in the myriad habitats and great wealth of birds and wildlife. No single trip can plumb all of the living corridors of life of this remarkable nation, for each region of the country offers new vistas, new wildlife, and new experiences. We hope that you enjoyed this "grand" sample and that you'll want to see more.