Discoveries at Cerro El Pital

I just returned from five days in the field at El Pital, El Salvador's highest peak (2,730 m) on the border with Honduras. I was there as part of a team of Salvadoran biologists. Our team was like a mini Noah's Ark, working in the torrential rains of tropical storm Alex, with two mammal specialists, two ornithologists, two botanists, two herpetologists, and two entomologists on board. I doubled as ornithologist and entomologist. One of the botanists doubled as 24/7 stand-up comedian. And despite the weather, we made a number of interesting discoveries. The bird at the top, for example, is a Sedge Wren, a species that until this week had been recorded only once before in El Salvador, without any kind of photo or audio documentation, at a site that doesn't have proper habitat to support the bird. That previous record may have been a misidentification, or at best a record of a vagrant.

This week, however, we found a small, local population of this species in El Pital's highland swampy areas, wet spots with lots of sedges and grasses. We photographed several individuals and recorded songs. We even saw a bird fly off with a fecal sac, and spent some time searching for its nest among the grasses and sedges.

This morning, while Carlos (the other ornithologist) was recording the songs of a couple of Sedge Wrens, a Ruddy Crake suddenly called! That's a bird normally found at much lower elevations (0 - 1500 m, according to Howell & Webb 1995) and as far as I know not previously reported from this site. We found it at 2,400 m! And this isn't even the only 'lowland' species we found here. Other examples include Grayish Saltator (0 - 1500 m, Howell & Webb 1995) and Spot-breasted Oriole (up to 1500 m in Central America, Howell & Webb 1995).

One of Central America's most charismatic birds is the Resplendent Quetzal, in El Salvador only known from two locations: Montecristo and El Pital. When Carlos and I got near the top of El Pital, well above 2,500 m, we found cloud forest that to me looked good for quetzal. So I started whistling one of their calls, and immediately four quetzals - two males and two females - came in! I got several shots of one male, apparently the first quetzal to be photographed at the site in 90 years!

Also at this same location, a bird that I had never seen before but had been reported once in the 90's at this site: Garnet-throated Hummingbird. We found an adult male. Note the quite obvious molt in the inner primaries on this bird.

King Vulture is another uncommon and spectacular Central American species. We saw one on an expedition to a smaller top, to collect orchids.

A surprise find was this immature Peregrine Falcon. The closest known breeding grounds are in northwest Mexico, although the species does winter in fairly decent numbers in Central America, usually near the coast. I suspect that June records for this species are quite rare anywhere in Central America.

This Rufous-collared Sparrow on the other hand is quite common in the highlands of El Pital, and its melancholy whistle could be heard from every yard or hedgerow. This bird ranges from southern Mexico all the way down to the tip of South America.

The iPod, by the way, was again fully operational last night, but we failed to turn up any of the target owl species. The only owl I heard calling faintly in the mist and rain was a Mottled Owl, a bird we didn't even play a tape for.

Our team has one day of rest / data entry / administrative work, before we head out to our next site, called Cerro El Tigre, on the slope of a volcano in eastern El Salvador. This area has been explored even less than El Pital, which means more possibilities for discoveries. You can read all about it here next week.

Cited literature
Howell, Steve N.G. & Webb, Sophie (1995) A Guide to the Birds of Mexico and Northern Central America, Oxford University Press

El Jicarito revisited

Yesterday I spent all day birding El Jicarito, a wetlands complex in the Honduran department of Choluteca. Kashmir, Fabiola and I went there about a week ago, and back then we only had a couple of hours to bird this fantastic place. Being in the neighborhood, and figuring there could be Pearl Kites here as well as any place, I went back for a full day of birding.

The day started with some bad luck. This winter, I sometimes feel like the entire field season is nothing but bad luck, with various car problems, passport theft and a lot of waiting. I passed two police road blocks yesterday morning, but about a kilometer before my turnoff, I was stopped at a third. The police officer and I went through the usual routine with car papers, driver's license, and the check of the triangles and fire extinguisher. This time, he found the fire extinguisher to be empty. "Look," he said, "the meter is in the red. This thing is empty." To prove his point, he squeezed the handle, as if to spray, but nothing happened. Seeing he had a point, I didn't contest his findings, and meekly paid the 200 Lempiras. Before I paid, he wanted me to get back into the car. Later I realized why: the transaction had to be performed without the other cops seeing it, so that he could pocket the money himself. As he handed me back my driver's license and the car papers, he leaned over the rolled down window into the car and stuck out his hand for the 200 Lemps. Reflecting a bit on this, it occurred to me that all Honduran cops received the money I've given them this way, and I assume they all keep it to themselves. None of them write actual tickets.

Anyway, I got to El Jicarito a little before 9 AM, and then pleaded with the guard to let me in. You see, in the dry season there's a few small puddles with some shorebirds and ducks here and there and this presumably is the reserve. Then there's a gate. Behind the gate, the birding is much better. Last week, we had no problem going through. Yesterday though, a different caretaker informed me that the road was a private road, and that he had instructions not to let anyone enter except fishermen who worked on the shrimp farm it led to. I pleaded a little bit, saying I was a birder, only interested in observing birds, nothing else. Reluctantly, he let me in.

In just a week's time, many wet areas had become dry and bird numbers and diversity seemed lower in the areas we visited the week before.

Then I stumbled onto some good luck. A large SUV pulled up to where I was parked, its windows rolled down, and inside was a wealthy-looking older couple with worried faces who asked me what I was doing. "Birding," I said. They then smiled and sighed a big sigh of relief, and said "ah - birding! Yes, we have many birds here." They were of course the owners of the shrimp farm, and the man even got out of his vehicle to talk to me. He was not a birder himself, but he was clearly enchanted by the multitude of birds on his property. "Oh, it's quite a spectacle. Sometimes it's just like a movie!" Super-friendly, he said I was welcome to bird the premises. I had to sign in at another gate, and after that I got to the shrimp farm itself, which indeed held many more birds than the area outside the gate.

Rather than list every species I saw, I will mention and illustrate some highlights. Most unusual species was probably Franklin's Gull, of which I found two individuals in the large Laughing Gull flock. Franklin's Gull you would expect here in migration; as a winter visitor, it is fairly rare in the region.

Other cool birds included resident Mangrove Yellow Warblers, which were common. Wintering (northern) Yellow Warblers were also abundant.

This bird has just begun molting its contour feathers, and will soon have a burgundy head, like the bird pictured above.

A good number of raptors can be observed at this place. I stumbled upon this immature Peregrine Falcon, which I photographed at maybe 10 meters (30 ft) distance - through the windshield.

Then there was this muddy-legged but very confiding (Mangrove) Common Black-Hawk. I was able to approach this bird at 5 m distance, and it even remained while I got out of the car for more photos.

I don't know if I've ever been this close to a wild raptor that wasn't being held by a raptor bander...

I was also lucky with this Eastern Meadowlark, which sang its little heart out just meters away from me.

At the moment, I'm back in San Salvador, about to get ready for heading out to Honduras again, to do the remaining goldencheek field sites, La Tigra and Uyuca.

Cardelia

The 'river of raptors' here in Veracruz has almost dried up, and on most days now amounts to little more than an occasionally pulsating rivulet. Various winter residents have arrived, among them a Merlin, a Cooper's Hawk and a few redtails in Chichicaxtle, and in Cardel an immature female Cooper's Hawk.

But Cardel's most famous avian winter resident is this bird, an adult female tundrius Peregrine that has wintered here for many years now, and is known to us counters as 'Cardelia'.

Cardelia arrived in the last week of September, and since then can often be found perched on one of the town's communication towers. She generally leaves Cardel's sizable pigeon population alone, and usually goes hunting in the dunes and on the beach nearby. Shorebirds and waterfowl are probably tastier than city pigeons.

Two of the three communication towers provide favorite perches, the third is barely used. When perched on one of these towers, she does not allow any raptor or vulture near or on it. Migrant Peregrines and resident Aplomado Falcons are often greeted by loud calling and are usually shown the way out.

She did allow a (smaller) male to sit with her for a few weeks, although he hasn't been seen lately. He was named, rather unimaginatively, 'Cardelio', the boyfriend of Cardelia.

For a short while early October, there were even three Peregrines in Cardel. At the peak of migration, there was probably enough food around in the form of migrant shorebirds to support three Peregrines. It seems likely that Cardelio and the other, unnamed suitor - also a male - were eventually chased out of town as the local food supply shrank.