What's in a Name?...PERU (13th Sept.)

After a morning scooping up Pale-billed Antpitta, Chestnut-crested Cotinga and Unstreaked Tit-Tyrant in wet, damp conditions, at the chilly higher elevations close to San Lorenzo, we changed direction entirely in the afternoon, dropping down into the Utcubamba Valley. This valley was in stark contrast to our morning, semi-arid in nature, with cacti dotting the scenic, steep hillsides. We were passing through the valley to pick up some key birds before stopping the night in Leymebamba. This was hoped to be a short process, as we needed just a few there. Chief among them for me was a certain owl, known to roost beside a hotel: Koepcke's Screech-Owl, which would have been a lifebird, and a lifeowl at that, making it extra special. I say would have been, because on arriving and checking its recent branch, the branch held no such owl. We searched and searched in 4 different trees, where we were informed it can be, but came up empty-handed. The owners of the hotel finally indicated five possible trees where it could be, but after scouring them, we were owl-less. So we moved on to other things, quickly picking up a new woodpecker for us all: Black-necked Woodpecker, another Peruvian endemic. We also enjoyed a pair of Golden-rumped Euphonias and a number of Buff-bellied Tanagers too. But we were also missing our other main target: Maranon Thrush, a regional endemic, which was also proving elusive.

While we checked local orchards for the thrush, we noticed we were being waved at; being waved at frantically, from beside the "owl" hotel. This could mean only one thing, and as we ran full pelt back to the spot, we realised a new guy had turned up and promptly found the owl, sitting in the fifth tree, where we had spent the least time searching. Very galling for all of us, but we were very happy to clap eyes on a pair of Koepcke's Screech-Owl sitting without a care in the world, unaware of the stress that they had caused! So "What's in a Name?", in regards to this owl. The owl, or rather the name of the owl, has an interesting story behind it. The owl was named in memory of a German ornithologist who lived and worked in Peru, Maria Koepcke. On Christmas Eve in 1971, this esteemed biologist was travelling with her 17-year old daughter Julianne, on board LANSA flight 508 from Lima to Pucallpa in the Amazon rainforest. The plane crossed the Andes east of Lima without incident before hitting a thunderstorm and experiencing a lightning strike, which caused the plane to crash, killing Maria in the process. On board the plane were 92 people (86 passengers and 6 crew), all but one of which were killed in the tragedy. The sole survivor was Maria's daughter, Julianne, who fell from the plane, while strapped in her seat, falling 3km, and crashing into the canopy of the jungle, which broke her fall and leaving her with only relatively minor injuries (broken collar bone) that allowed her to walk through the forest for 10 straight days, when she was finally rescued. A remarkable story that sits behind a remarkable owl.

We settled in to our hotel in Leymebamba, and readied for another ascent into wet temperate forest again the next morning...

Don't Underestimate the Power of the Dark Side...PERU (9th Sept.)

After our bumper day in the Andean foothills, there were two options: 1) Accept your good fortune with a smile, and retire for the night; or 2) Get greedy and try to extend that luck to a bit of night birding near the lodge. We chose the latter! I am an owl fan of note, so this trip, which ended up with 12 different owls seen for the group, was ideally suited; thus my commitment to go out owling was never in doubt. Thankfully, Mark and Rick (the two tour participants), were dog-tired, like me, but just could not say no! The excellent local guide Carlos advised us that anything prior to 10PM was not worth it, so we it was a super-long day or nothing. We chose the tortuous option! I could not figure out way this late timing was important, as, traditionally, when searching for owls, when tapes are played to get a response, just after dusk or just before dawn (on clear nights) are usually the most fruitful. A quick scout for birds around the lodge earlier that evening failed to produce the Rufous Nightjar or the Spot-tailed Nightjar we'd seen the evening before, during an evening where clouds regularly featured in the night sky, compared with the beautiful clear night of the "Supermoon" the evening before. My fear was, that this night was simply not a good night for night birds. Anyway, we gathered by the bus at 10PM ready to launch another night foray, with plenty of cloud still present above, interspersed with periods of starry skies. Not perfect, but not disastrous either. Our first owl search was not what I was expecting. I was thinking that the guide would lead us to a spot and suggest I play a call for the stakeout species. But no, we proceeded five minutes drive from the lodge to a large power plant of some sort, sprinkled with many bright street lamps. Here, the guide Carlos advised us to check the posts by the lights for any owls. No recordings were played, but no owls were seen either. We swiftly moved, vowing to check the posts on our return journey. Next up, we scanned the cables along this far from quiet highway for any sign of a Striped Owl. Sadly this impressive owl did not feature either. Owls 2-US 0; the owls were winning this battle hands down. I was beginning to feel decidedly guilty at having dangled the "owl carrot" to the group, only to result in a tortuously late night with little payoff. Still, Carlos seemed unperturbed, and his continuing enthusiasm, and optimism was infectious; my dark thoughts of failed returns were kept locked inside my head! The next stop in this owl quest was another unlikely venue. We moved into the outskirts of the noisy city of Moyobamba, which could rightly have laid claim to the title "the city that never sleeps" at this time; cars and motorbikes zoomed around the city, heavy-bass, pumping disco music seemed to burst from every few houses, and the distinct lack of any large patch of bird habitat, all seemed the very antithesis of what you need to see owls. Under Carlos's instructions we left the bus, accompanied by the ever-present sounds of Latino dance music coming from across the street, and scanned a large university grounds for sign of our next quarry. There were a few scattered, tall Eucalypt trees bordering the building, but nothing in the way of what I would label decent habitat. Carlos expanded his information to us; gesturing to a large red-and-white cellphone antenna, he indicated our target owl, the magnificent Stygian Owl, regularly chooses to sit on the large aerial. However, it was abundantly clear the large red-and-white structure was completely owl-less. We walked around the border of the property scanning the few trees on its fringe with a spotlight for any sign large, reflecting red eyes staring back at us, but found nothing. Carlos led us to the busiest street that bordered the property, and suggested I play the tape (obviously just loud enough to be heard above the continuous dance music present), and told us to keep an eye for a large owl flying from one thin strip of trees to another. With a distinct lack of belief that any owl would respond while the town was still deep within party mode, I followed his request all the same. Amazingly, within just a few seconds of play, a huge owl sailed overhead, lit up by the spotlight, and glided onto an open branch above us! We watched, quite literally open-mouthed, as the Stygian Owl called back and glared at us from its lofty perch, accompanied by the unwanted sound of Latino club music! A curious and unlikely scene for seeing a rarely seen owl. Carlos told us that the owls had been discovered here in just the last few years, at an elevation fully 1000m lower than their stated altitudinal range in the excellent Peru field guide. Stygian means "Dark" and the owl certainly appeared that; dark and menacing.

After enjoying excellent views and taking a few snapshots, we headed back towards the lodge, once more failing to find a Striped Owl on the return journey. A short time before turning back into the lodge, we stopped again at the plant with the bright street lamps, but found the posts still missing any owls. Rick glimpsed an owl, which gave us renewed hope, and moments later a Black-banded Owl (sadly missing an eye), sitting right out in the open next to one of the bright street lamps! Another unlikely setting for a normally tricky owl species! As we drove back the short distance to the lodge, Carlos lit up another owl-Ferruginous Pygmy-Owl-sitting on a fencepost to complete a three-owl night, all seen within one hour! A remarkable end, to a remarkable day.

Next stop was Abra Patricia, the cloudforest realm of the rare and much wanted Long-whiskered Owlet...