Panama: El Valle's Canopy Lodge Extension Feb 05—10, 2011
Posted by Kevin Zimmer
Kevin Zimmer
Kevin Zimmer has authored three books and numerous papers dealing with field identification and bird-finding in North America. His book, Birding in the American West: A Han...Related Trips
As always, the El Valle area treated us to some great birds, beautiful accommodations, and some unexpected surprises. Eclipsing everything, and the run-away winner for "Favorite Bird" of the trip, was the Rufous-vented Ground-Cuckoo that we saw on our day-trip to Rio Indio and Jordinal. We had just eaten our lunch in the shade of a picnic shelter next to the stream. Bird activity appeared to be almost non-existent in the midday heat. It had been a relatively slow day, with little flock activity, and the marañón trees that typically function as bird-magnets at this season were not fruiting. We had dipped on the stakeout Barred Puffbird pair at Jordinal, so finding that species was now #1 on my priority list. Leaving the drivers at the picnic site, we took a short hike down a sidetrack where Canopy Lodge guides had first discovered Barred Puffbirds two years ago. I trolled periodically with puffbird tape, as we occupied ourselves with a pair of Black-cheeked Woodpeckers and a distant perched White Hawk. And then, I heard it—the long, drawled "wolf whistle" which signaled the puffbird. It was distant, but a few more playbacks lured it closer, and a second bird, presumably the mate of the first, was now responding as well. I started scanning likely looking trees, and soon found our target, perched stolidly on a horizontal limb, and looking vaguely reptilian as it swayed ever so slightly in place.
We were still enjoying scope studies of the puffbird when Roderick, one of our drivers, appeared at our side, visibly winded from a hurried hike to find us. He was talking excitedly to Danilo, our Canopy Lodge guide, and although I couldn't hear all of the furtive conversation, I heard two things that immediately diverted me from the puffbird—"hormigas" (ants) and, in English, "ground-cuckoo!" "Donde?" I asked, to which Danilo responded, "He says it's where we ate lunch!" The poor Barred Puffbirds went from stars to yesterday's news in a heartbeat, as the stampede back to the picnic site was on. I could still hear their sad whistles receding in the distance behind us as we headed for the footbridge over the river. Arriving back at the picnic site, we immediately found the army ants, although as Roderick had said, there weren't that many. The ants were of the genus Eciton, the ones that birds love to follow, but here, at the forest edge, they were not swarming. Rather, there were several discrete columns of ants that appeared to form supply lines between the main swarm and the bivouac. Roderick indicated that he had seen the Rufous-vented Ground-Cuckoo darting around a treefall on the slope above us, just inside the forest from the clearing where we had eaten our lunch. There was no sign of it now, but I was hearing occasional "churrs" and "snarls" from Bicolored Antbirds, a species that is considered an "obligate" follower of army ants. I began broadcasting calls of the ground-cuckoo, seemingly with no response. But, after several minutes, Danilo said, "It's coming!" And sure enough, the ground-cuckoo was weaving its way through the dense undergrowth toward my speaker, which I had placed beside a small path just inside the forest. Before I could even raise my own binoculars, I saw the bird dart across the gap, the sunlight highlighting the purple iridescence of its tail. And then, there was nothing.
No one except Danilo and I had seen the bird, and our views had been little more than naked-eye glimpses. No vocal response or mandible clacking was heard, despite continued audio playback. Nothing. It did not look good. I decided to play some songs of Ocellated Antbird, a spectacular obligate ant-follower that we had not seen on the tour, in part, to lure out any Ocellateds that might be lurking around the swarm, but mainly in the desperate hope that we might trick the ground-cuckoo into thinking there was more going on at this swarm than there actually was. So there I was, with Ocellated Antbird songs and calls blasting from the speaker in my shirt pocket, peering intently into the forest for any sign of life, when I became aware that participants Sheila and Leigh were trying to get my attention. Turning around, I looked to where they were pointing, and was dumbfounded to see the ground-cuckoo, which had walked completely out of the forest, and seemed to be homing in on my speaker! We stood frozen as the cuckoo continued to walk towards us, its expressive crest rising and falling in synchrony with its long, iridescent tail. The cuckoo seemed perplexed—you could almost hear it thinking, "That is the biggest, strangest looking Ocellated Antbird I have ever seen!" Meanwhile, the rest of our group was standing in the shade of the picnic shelter, not 30 feet away, with binoculars riveted on the cuckoo. Someone moved, and the ground-cuckoo snapped to its senses and darted back inside the forest. We were all in a state of shock. All members of the genus Neomorphus are nearly mythical birds of lowland and foothill rainforest. The Rufous-vented Ground-Cuckoo is probably better known than any of its congeners, and yet, many birders, ornithologists, and professional birding guides with decades of experience in Panama and Costa Rica have yet to see one. This was only the fourth time I had seen the species in Central America, and never had I seen one outside of the forest interior—it simply defied belief.
We were still processing what had just happened, and I was still broadcasting calls of the Ocellated Antbird, when we looked up from our conversation to see that the ground-cuckoo had partly circled us, and had walked back out of the forest into the open, this time at our backs. And once again, it was headed right for my speaker! The bird seemed genuinely curious about the excited calls of Ocellated Antbirds, which normally would signal the presence of a very active swarm of foraging army ants. "Don't anyone move," I cautioned, as the cuckoo continued to walk haltingly towards me, pausing to raise and lower its crest and tail. It was now so close that I couldn't fit the entire bird in the viewfinder of my camera! The situation was borderline ridiculous—one of the most elusive, forest-interior birds of Central and South America was standing in the sunlight, in the open, at minimum-focus distance from ten birders who could barely believe what we were seeing. Suddenly, a woodcreeper sounded an alarm call from inside the forest, and the cuckoo awoke from its apparent trance and darted back into the forest. We were still high-fiving and laughing when Danilo and Roderick, who had missed this entire crazy experience, emerged from a nearby trail into the forest. They had located the main ant swarm, which they said had lots of antbirds and woodcreepers, but no ground-cuckoo, in attendance. We gathered up one participant who sadly, had not been present during the ground-cuckoo experience, and headed into the forest to find the ants. Shortly after crossing a small stream, we arrived at the swarm, which was alive with attendant birds. Bicolored Antbirds were bouncing back and forth across the trail, and we soon picked up a colorful Spotted Antbird as well. Plain-brown Woodcreepers were also much in evidence. And then, suddenly, the ground-cuckoo reappeared, hopping upon a large boulder on the right side of the trail! We spent over an hour with the ants, not moving more than 30 meters the entire time, and during our vigil, the ground-cuckoo was in view for perhaps 75% of the time. It alternated between darting back and forth, snapping up large insect prey flushed by the ants, and hopping up onto boulders or logs, from whence it could scan the swarm from above. At a couple of points, it made very aggressive moves at some of the antbirds, including what looked like a serious attempt at catching one of the Bicoloreds. When we finally tore ourselves away, the ground-cuckoo was still there, seemingly completely habituated to our presence, and still actively foraging away. It was truly a magical, once-in-a-lifetime sort of encounter, and exactly the sort of experience that makes tropical birding so exciting—you literally never know what might happen next, even on a "slow" day of birding.
After the ground-cuckoo, everything else seemed somewhat mundane. But we had already thrilled to the diversity of habitats, birds, and birding experiences that the El Valle area has to offer. It started upon our arrival at the Canopy Lodge, with the daily lodge feeder show. At peak times, it can be nearly impossible to tear a group away from the lodge feeders to go anywhere else! Not only is activity at the feeders frenetic, but the diversity of birds attracted is truly remarkable. To see such normally skulking birds as Rufous-capped Warbler, Dusky-faced Tanager, and Red-crowned Ant-Tanager attending feeders is a rare treat, and the spectacular Rufous Motmots are grand icing on the cake. Even Collared Aracaris and Tawny-capped Euphonias (seldom seen on the lodge grounds) got in on the act this year.
Over our four days out of the lodge we visited a number of different habitats, from middle-elevation cloudforest to lush Caribbean lowlands, to dry Pacific lowlands. Highlights were many, and included a dazzling male Snowcap, multiple Brown Violetears, and dynamite views of an Orange-bellied Trogon at Los Altos del Maria; prolonged close views of a Tody Motmot at Cariguana Trail; a close-enough-to-touch Dull-mantled Antbird (you have to love those bright red eyes!) below La Mesa; nesting Spot-crowned Barbets at Jordinal; and crippling views of Mottled Owl and Tropical Screech-Owl near the lodge. I would also be remiss not to mention the optional excursion by several members of the group, who spent one evening at a local sports bar (I'm not making this up) watching the Green Bay Packers win the Super Bowl!
On our last morning, we visited the dry Pacific lowlands around El Chirú, which stood in stark contrast to the lushness of the Caribbean Slope and El Valle itself, and provided us with a completely different mix of birds, highlighted by great views of Crested Bobwhite, Lesser Yellow-headed Vulture, the near-endemic Veraguan Mango, Sapphire-throated Hummingbird, Brown-throated Parakeets, Panama Flycatcher, Pale-eyed Pygmy-Tyrant, Mouse-colored Tyrannulet (everyone's favorite, I know) and Lance-tailed Manakin. Unfortunately, the best bird of all was seen by only a couple of us: a roosting Striped Owl along the Juan Hombrón road, that flew just seconds after we backed up the bus to look at it. For those that got on it, the look was short but sweet, and it was a rare lifer for Danilo!
El Valle and the Canopy Lodge provided us with a perfect complement to our Canopy Tower tour of the Canal Zone, and a fascinating glimpse into the diverse foothill avifauna of both the Pacific and Caribbean slopes. This was a very fun group with which to share so many fabulous experiences, and I hope to see each of you again on future trips.