I left for my birding trip to the wilds of Chiapas last month with several threats hanging over my head. The first was the prospect of the Iraq war looming, compounded by a State Department travel warning to US citizens not to travel to Chiapas.
The Second was my fear, fortunately unfounded, that this middle-aged body could not make the arduous climb up the mountainous range to the Biosphere Refuge of El Triunfo, our destination for locating some truly rare species of birds. But in truth, the warning that echoed most prominently in my mind, was given by my good friend, John Anderson. He said, "If you come back from this trip without a complete list of all the birds you see there will be hell to pay". I am happy to report that I fulfilled John's request, and dutifully recorded the 200 plus species of birds I saw in Chiapas. And you will be happier still to hear that I will not recite them here for you, except to say I saw many wonderful creatures, including the Resplendant Quetzal.
I am one of those people, who enjoys birding experientially, savoring the moment. Much to the bewilderment of many of my birding colleagues, I do not keep a life list.
The life list is the birder's record of the number of species that have been identified by the birder over a lifetime in the field. It is almost sacrilege in the birding world not to keep a list and I am reluctant to admit it in print. But even I felt motivated to be able to put on a list some of the rarest birds in the world that exist only in this particular area of Mexico. I may never have the opportunity to see them again.
The bird I most wanted to see was the Horned Guan, which although large and bizarre looking, is hard to find because it is so secretive. It had almost been hunted out of existence until conservation efforts beginning in the 50's helped preserve this unusual creature. Eventually the El Triunfo Refuge was formed in the early 90's to further protect it. Even so, some are still hunted by the indigenous peoples of Chiapas to provide food for their families. Our tour guides had warned us not to expect a sighting, or if we did, to expect a quick look. As we hiked up the mountain range, we paired with other hikers and I drew a perfectly delightful woman who frankly had little interest in birding, but liked to engage in lively conversation. I do as well, but I began to realize we would have little chance of seeing anything as long as we kept talking. However, we were absorbed in heavy-duty topics as we approached closer to the cloud forest, habitat of the Horned Guan. She was telling a moving and deeply emotional tale when I spotted a quick glimpse of a strange black and white bird, flying above us, which disappeared around the corner of the trail. I felt obligated to keep my attention on my companion but thought I had forfeited the chance of a lifetime.
And so it seemed, until I heard a rustle on a tree branch. And there not ten feet away, was the splendid Horned Guan, peering down at us, as though he too was part of our chat, his head cocked attentively, sympathetically clucking away. He stayed like that for a good 30 minutes, and we got a view most birders would die for, especially those life-listers.
