In the Shadow of the Incas...PERU (14th Sept)

This was to be another day of extremes; we started the day at "Black Mud Pass", which sounds much more interesting in Spanish (Abra Barra Negra), an area of remnant forest and grassland right on the treeline. In other chilly, windy and wet; at least it was for us on our visit. However, this pass, with its location on the lip of the Marañon Valley, allowed us to drop right down into the bottom of the canyon by the afternoon, where we needed to strip layers off, as we ended by birding in arid, cactus strewn slopes, with the sun beating down on us with considerable strength. Thus, from the start of the day to the end we crossed from one side to the other of this impressive valley, which also offered up some of the best scenery moments of this fascinating tour.

Our visit to Abra Barra Negra was haunted by strong winds, and cool temperatures, which gave us our most challenging birding of the trip. We had been largely trouble free with the weather on this trip until this point, but the morning was far from that. In spite of this, we forced out some early lifers: Coppery Metaltail, another endemic hummingbird for the trip, and a vocally distinct "form" of Rufous Antpitta that is likely to be recognised as a full species in its own right in time. Other high Andean birds sprinkled the farm fields up there, like Mountain Carara and Andean Lapwing. 

I had dearly hoped to "grip-back" a Russet-mantled Softtail, which I had missed while I was gorging on Pale-billed Antpitta a few days before. I had reasoned at the time that I got the better of the deal, I would prefer to have got, than missed, the antpitta. However, like any greedy birder worth his salt, I was also keen to settle scores with that bird, but try as I might I could not find it. I tried standing outside the bamboo that they love, I tried standing inside the bamboo that they love, all to no avail. Much as I wanted the bird, the bird did not want me! Still, we saw some great stuff, including my fourth new owl of the trip, and the 11th seen on it for me! A Yungas Pygmy-Owl just sat there and let us stare at it, which I did, at length! Other finds, while fighting the wind and rain, were Andean Flicker, a woodpecker that seems, at times, to care little for trees at all; Drab Hemispingus, White-chinned Thistletail (of the peruviana form, which may be split), and Mountain Cacique. After failing to find a constantly calling Neblina Tapaculo in blustery conditions, which one of us saw briefly, we finally decided to call it a day and head down to less balmy conditions. 

On our descent of the valley side we picked up Rufous-capped Antshrike and Baron's Spinetail, and took in some of the most impressive scenes of the trip, before we reached the hot and sweaty area of Balsas at the bottom of this impressive canyon. The base of the canyon was key to our hopes of finding another endemic, Peruvian Pigeon. A few flight views were had, before we walked along the road and found a tree full of them; find the fruit, find the pigeon! This species is listed for southern Ecuador, although there are many who now think that it may not occur there, and the sightings may have been mis-ids, thus designating this as a declining and scarce Peruvian endemic.

We were being baked near the valley bottom (in shocking contrast to our morning's feelings), when we located another major target, which behaved as if for our specific viewing pleasure: Buff-bridled Inca-Finch, arguably the best looking of the five Inca-Finches. This distinctive group of finches are all endemic to Peru, and are therefore highly sought after by people like me. I was keen on getting my first Inca-Finch on this trip, and knew I had a shot at four. The Little Inca-Finch seen on our second day was my first, but underwhelmed me, as it stayed distant, and did not allow me to snap a shot of it. Thus, this bird felt like my first true Inca-Finch, and it lived up to every bit of the hype, providing some of the best photos of the tour...

Next day we had a date with a parrotlet, and a long journey to the city of Cajamarca to undertake...

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...

The Beak of the Antpitta...PERU (13th Sept.)

After an amazing three days in and around Abra Patricia, we had to reluctantly move on. Well, I say reluctantly, although the promise of our next destination was quite substantial, meaning that the sadness of leaving that great place was softened somewhat. To say we left pre-dawn is an understatement, as it felt like the middle of the night, and was arguably not far off it. However, these are the necessities of the ardent birder, and the sacrifices we make for that one...MORE...BIRD! The early start was needed as we had a fair drive, plus a sturdy hike in order to reach the spot for our next target bird. We were led to believe our hike from the town of San Lorenzo, into the bamboo choked upper elevations was to be relatively easy, and was a much softer version of the old hike that people historically had to do for this same bird. However, in hindsight, I would wager that those people who advised us of the relative ease of walk, had not had a hip operation that year (as I had), and had also not undertaken it with a steady stream of rain turning the mule track into a hazardous uphill climb!

The walk was tough, but the way was eased with some avian downtime, when we spotted a little flick of Citrine Warblers and a Barred Fruiteater on the way up. Better still was to come, when a passing flock was found to hold a pair of Unstreaked Tit-Tyrants, which instantly pulled themselves out of the flock and into the surrounding shrubs with a little playback. Feisty little creatures they were! All this helped to ease the pain of the seemingly constant upward climb. We also saw the only Gray-browed Brush-Finch of the trip on the way up (a species that was formerly part of the Stripe-headed Brush-Finch complex that was recently split into multiple species). Another cotinga (in addition to the fruiteater) came in the form of a Red-crested Cotinga, which was a forebearer of a great day for this family. Slowly, but surely, we worked our way up to our target altitude, where our target bird was said to be found. We were armed with directions from another Tropical Birding guide, but trying his stakeout, we came up empty-handed, with neither sight nor sound of our target bird. Some compensation came in the form of a Plain-tailed Wren of the endemic schulenbergi form, which is a likely future species, by virtue of its distinct voice. We kept trying the call of our main target, Pale-billed Antpitta beside the trail, hoping for a response close to us. But, try as we might, the only one we heard was buried in what seemed to be a dense swathe of bamboo, across an undulating private field of wet grass. Finally, Mark and I snapped, and decided we simply needed to chase after the sound, albeit on the far side of a stretch of private land. Thankfully, the owners of the land were in, and seemed unperturbed by our request for entry. We made our way through the field, making sure our trousers were wet through by the time we reached the other side, and neared the bamboo patch, where we figured the bird was located. Remarkably, when we got close to the first stand of dense bamboo, the bird seemed tantalisingly close. I had already seen three new antpittas on the trip up until this point, all of which are endemic to Peru, and had enjoyed them all. However, this was the one I really wanted; there's just something about that pale bill, which created a pull in me. Before pressing play on my I-Pod, I scanned the forest floor for signs of movement, hoping that by some miracle I would locate an antpitta without the aid of playback (a rare occurrence). Finding nothing, I nervously pressed play, and waited. Mark quickly stated he had this mega bird in his sights, but it was abundantly clear that I was blocked from my position; one of those all too frequent moments that occurs in forest birding. All too soon, this hefty antpitta had hopped away and was lost from Mark too. I tried playback once more, adjusting my position again just before I did so. Horror of all horrors, once again this beefy bird jumped into a position visible to Mark, though entirely blocked from me.

At this point Mark declared he had enjoyed decent views and he was happy with what he had seen and needed no more. This was both bad news (I was completely gripped off by this-i.e. jealous), but the good news was that Mark was happy for me to plow into the bamboo alone to try and see it for myself, (getting the two of us into the bamboo may have been a real challenge with limited space available). I climbed in, now ensuring the rain-drenched bamboo, soaked through not only my trousers, but all other of my clothing items too. I found myself a small opening within the bamboo, which had an enticing looking log (just the sort of log, I hoped, that Pale-billed Antpittas, liked to hop up on) within full view of it. I pressed play again, and instantly the sound of the antpitta was on top of me; I scoured the ground, and then it jumped up onto my favoured log, posing with its ivory-coloured bill in full, fantastic view. I was wet through from head to foot, and may have permanently water damaged my shiny new bluetooth speaker in the process, but did I care? Did I heck, it was worth every single uncomfortable moment, and financial burden (the speaker).

On the way down we found our final cotinga of the day, a treble-cotinga day, when we chanced upon our second Chestnut-crested Cotinga in as many days; while also picking up Golden-browed Chat-Tyrant, and Drab Hemispingus. 

After our long hike, lunch tasted very good at the bottom of the hill and end of the hike, and we looked forward to a very different afternoon's birding ahead, in the dry Utcubamba Valley...

Best Day's Birding; EVER!...Peru (12th Sept.)

This trip to Peru was far from typical; the tour had been condensed from a usual 14-day trip into 11 days of birding. This left a high risk of missing a number of birds, but holiday restrictions for some in the group left no choice in the matter. However, we enjoyed rare, rare luck on this trip, and were so lucky and successful, it felt like a trip that can never be repeated. This day was the perfect example of this...

We awoke at Owlet Lodge, with skies cast in the colour of charcoal, illustrating the imminent threat of rain. For this reason, the three people in the group armed with digital SLRs, myself, Nick and Mark, all left our cameras in our rooms. Rain seemed extremely close, and threatened to curtail birding from the look of the skies above, and so we headed out on the trails near the lodge, with antpittas on our mind. The Abra Patricia area is rich in antpittas, and offered me alone 3 species I had not seen before, all of which are Peruvian endemics. As we had seen one of these the day before (Ochre-fronted), we were now focusing on the others. We started out by trying a spot where Rusty-tinged Antpitta had been heard the day before. It did not take long for a bird to respond, and soon after an antpitta shot across the trail at the speed of the Superhero the Flash! We feared, that would be that, but then, suddenly, another Rusty-tinged Antpitta hopped languidly on to the trail. Our first thoughts were that it would not remain long, but the bird defied usual antpitta behavioural etiquette, and not only remained for several joyful minutes, but even hopped up onto a rock, to make itself prominent and visible to all! At this point three in the group looked rather sheepish at having left our cameras locked safely in our rooms, and unable to capture the moment. Another hour or so on the trail, and we also nailed a third lifer antpitta in this area for me, with a Chestnut Antpitta that hopped out beside my speaker on he trail, and we also managed to track down a Rusty-breasted Antpitta too, to complete a hatrick of antpitta species for the morning. On the way back towards the lodge, with rain beginning to fall, we picked up the fantastically named Oleaginous Hemispingus, and the scarce Olive Flycatcher. By the time we reached the lodge, the threat of heavy rain, had turned into real, heavy rain. Knowing our birding in this area was now curtailed, we decided to head down to lower elevations along the road below the lodge; we had seen nearly all of our targets at the upper altitudes, and also by dropping lower, we hoped that we would move below the main rain belt....

However, when we arrived at Afluente, a famed birding spot, that is actually nothing more than a pull out by a tyre shop, the rain was very much still in evidence, and we were quickly forced back into the van for shelter. It soon became clear no matter how much we complained, prayed, and sat frustrated in the van, that the rain was here to stay for a while. There was nothing left to do than take advantage of the rain break, and take a long nap in the van! Which we did. After over an hour of birding being frozen out Nick awoke us with the news that the rain had nearly stopped, and so we left the vehicle promptly fearing there would not be too many breaks in the rain during the day, thus keen to take full advantage when there were. What followed was one of the busiest and most thrilling birding sessions I have ever experienced in the Andes. The first sign of a flock coming into the area was a Versicolored Barbet making a rapid appearance; then Mark noticed a White-eared Solitaire perched in an open tree! As I missed the solitaire, a much-wanted lifebird, and felt my lack of 'scope did not help, I immediately ran back to the van for my telescope, just a hundred meters or so away. However, this was the period when the floodgates opened for birds, and there was barely time for me to even get my 'scope. As I was reaching the van, a shout went up from Nick "Chestnut-crested Cotinga!" (a long time nemesis of mine), which had chosen to land in the very same tree as the solitaire. Moments later, while still revelling in the cotinga, Mark indicated he had the White-eared Solitaire again, and this time, we all got it. We were taking in both of these striking birds, when Nick, gestured to another beauty located lower down the same tree: a male Scarlet-breasted Fruiteater! It was becoming abundantly clear, we were in for a rare, rare day in the Andes. The next two hours or so were spent admiring a myriad of species that streamed through the trees around us, either as part of an amazingly diverse feeding flock, or visiting a number of trees that were clearly baring fruit in the area. Among the many species seen were" a pair of Lanceolated Monklets, a male Andean Cock-of-the-rock, a lifer Plumbeous-crowned Tyrannulet, the endemic Speckle-chested Piculet, Spotted, Saffron-crowned, Green-and-gold and Blue-necked Tanagers, Blue Dacnis, and a pair of Chestnut-tipped Toucanets. It was thrilling to be surrounded by so many birds, and a flock holding real quality within.

We soon reached lunchtime, but were forced back into the van, after the rain moved in once more, and the flock evaporated into the forest. Another nap was undertaken to cope with the rain break; and with the time approaching mid-afternoon, and the rain still very much in evidence, we opted to head lower still to the town of Aguas Verdes, and check out a new reserve on the edge of town: Bosque de Arena Blanca. This proved an inspired choice as we packed in some final quality birds before dusk forced our dream day to a close. As we walked towards the reserve we noted Lettered Aracaris, the endemic Black-bellied Tanager, and a Amethyst Woodstar in the trees closeby; and at the hummingbird feeders we were treated to both Blue-fronted and Green-fronted Lancebills, and a Many-spotted Hummingbird. While we were there another, large, tour group were there too, and in spite of the din of us all excitedly taking in the great hummers on site, someone spotted a Red-ruffed Fruitcrow in the trees above, which was something I had been dearly hoping to see. Taking a break from the feeders, we were met with mixed success; we got cracking looks at some cracking birds (Blue-naped Chlorophonias, Black-faced Dacnises, Golden-bellied Euphonias, and Paradise Tanagers), but missed a covey of Rufous-breasted Wood-Quails that came in to a gran feeders while we did so. This would have been a great lifer, but after the day we had just had there were no complaints from me; it was truly one of the most thrilling days I had ever experienced in the Andes....

Next up was a hike for yet another new antpitta, and a very, very special one at that...

Night of the Long Whiskers...PERU (11 Sept.)

After a giddy day's birding around Abra Patricia, I felt I still had a score to settle with a certain owl; or rather, owlet. I decided to take things into my own hands. Knowing that no other people or groups were going after the regular lodge bird, I decided to make a late night foray for it. It involved a kilometre hike (a bit of a killer on the return, uphill leg, for one of shameless low levels of fitness like me). I set out on the trail, which I was unfamiliar with. It soon led to fork; I had great instructions of where to go, thought no one had mentioned a fork. I gambled on a certain direction, and finally found a set of benches which I figured marked an old, closer, spot for the owlet, which I was led to believe was of little use in recent months. So I forged on, I knew I had another 200m or so to go and that should be the current hotspot. I could not find any trail markers, and started to get worried, when I chanced upon another bench, and so hoped this was the marker for the new spot. I soon got my answer. On playing its soft, near frog call, it did not take long to hear it respond to my overtures; GAME ON. I felt confident, I was alone, I had time (after all it was only pushing past ten o'clock! However, this tiny calling night creature was a bit of a devil to see, For it is one of the world's smallest owls. Thus, in spite of its regular calling, which should help somewhat in locating it, the high volume noise of the river combined with the softness of its call, was causing me some trouble. I tried sloshing through the mud, and weaving my way through a rain soaked bamboo understorey. Only to emerge, wet from my feet up to my crown, and completely owless. I was thinking of giving it a miss, when it called again, from a spot, which it seemed to favour in my short time there. I was convinced it must be visible, but I might just have the wrong angle, with a vital leaf blocking my view in some way. So I walked through the dense cloak of bamboo once more, ensuring I was, again, freshly wet, from my boots up, This time I tried a bit more ducking and weaving (Ali-style), and took a step to the side, when there it was, sat on an open branch: LONG-WHISKERED OWLET. It must have been there for some time, as the call had continued from the same spot for a frustrating age; all I needed to do was take that crucial step, removing that crucial leaf, from my line of sight. It was tiny, its face was full of whiskers, and it was a real beauty; and I had a view for the ages. A grail bird for birders, and even more so for someone like me who has an unhealthy obsession with owls. It had been a rare trip indeed for owls, and it turned out we were not yet done with owls....

Plenty more beckoned on the remainder of our trip in Northern Peru...

You know you make me wanna shout...PERU (11th Sept.)

So, it all started with a bird named Lulu, Lulu's Tody-Flycatcher, a great named bird if ever there as one, which, unfortunately, has been now officially name Johnson's Tody-Flycatcher. I still vehemently vote for Lulu! Much of the day was spent birding in and around the excellent Owlet Lodge in Abra Patricia. This fantastic birder's lodge, set up to preserve the habitat for its famous and rare owlet (Long-whiskered), has a series of trails, which are marked with small signs with bird names slapped upon them. Now I have seen this before at reserves, but rarely do you find the birds beside the appropriate sign. But not at this lodge; we picked up Lulu, right beside the sign bearing its name; this is the way birding should be. 

We then left the lodge and birded along the road below the lodge for a while, walking along another of their trails much further down the road. We were here to try for a scarce flycatcher, and try our luck with the first of several antpittas we were hoping for in this area. While Nick played for the flycatcher, I tried for the antpitta. While we worked on these, we nailed down a Bar-winged Wood-Wren that took little persuasion to come in and check us out. Not long after Nick's target responded from a swathe of bamboo: Cinnamon-breasted Tody-Tyrant, and it did not take long before we saw a pair of these spritely birds. Then. a shiver went up my spine; behind us an Ochre-fronted Antpitta called back rather belatedly. We quickly backtracked and could hear it calling close, it felt like we should be able to see it, but no amount of scanning could track it down. I nervously pressed play on my I-Pod, keeping the volume down, and instantly, it popped up onto an open branch! Amazingly, it lingered there, so we could approach closer and train our cameras on it at length. It was a very special antpitta sightings indeed. 

During the remainder of the morning, we picked up more White-capped Tanagers (five this time, compared with seven the day before), a White-collared Jay, a Highland Elaenia (which was a rather lame lifer for me), and enjoyed a flurry of tanagers, dominated by Flame-faced Tanagers, Saffron-crowned Tanagers, and Silvery Tanagers.

After lunch, we decided to try one of the local trails at the lodge, after a brief rest. We headed off down the trail with rain looking imminent. Luckily it stayed away for an hour, which was just enough time to find a White-faced Nunbird, sitting high above a sign with its name on of course, and a super Red-hooded Tanager. Much of the rest of the afternoon was rained off, but, when you have just added a nunbird of this quality to the list, that was fairly easy to take.

More from Abra Patricia and Afluente came the next day, a day which was even better than this one!

Cinnamon and Spice and all things nice! PERU (10th Sept.)

With dusk approaching our plans were single-minded for the evening; look for the most enigmatic owl in all of Peru: Long-whiskered Owlet. We were staying at Owlet Lodge, after which the lodge was named, so we were in the right place (indeed pretty much the only place from where the owl is known). We had bumped into another group a few days before and had worked out that from our second night at the lodge we would overlap. They were a perfectly friendly and amiable group, but feared that two groups searching for the owlet on the same night might be a little crowded, and so we had planned to look for it on the single free night we were at the lodge alone, before they arrived. However, when we arrived at the lodge (near to dusk), we saw the very same group heading off down the trail for the owlet! They were here one day earlier than we had thought, and what's more had trumped us by going straight for the owl, before we had even checked in! Our plans needed a rapid rethink. Nick Athanas, the official guide for this trip, where I was tagging along, spoke to the lodge staff and soon got confirmation of a place downslope, where a new private reserve was being set up and had the owlet. Nick had this in his back pocket anyway, as a back up site if the lodge plan faltered. So the natural thing to do was visit the back-up site first; which we did. After dumping our bags in our rooms, and grabbing our torches, we headed straight to the "back pocket site"; we were led to believe there was a ranger on site 24 hours and all we needed to do was simply turn up, talk to him (and pay of course), and he would take us to his known owlet spot. However, on arriving we found an abandoned reserve with no human presence at all. Nick gestured for me to do up the trail with Mark and Rick, and try for the owl while he busied himself finding a human! Night was threatening to come, and in the tropics, night falls like a switch, none of this gradual on set of dusk, as we know it in the north; it approaches rapidly and falls almost instantly. Thus, not long after we were in owlet time, with a starry night and bright moon overhead, just the conditions we could have hoped for. However, we could have hoped for a bit more local knowledge of where to look! Thankfully, I soon heard voices and noticed a spotlight approaching behind; Nick had found a human, and the right one too; the ranger had been having dinner and was away for the short time when we arrived! Now he was here, he was with us, and knew exactly where to look for the owlet. He led us a short distance up the trail, gave us  a run down of what we needed to do, and Nick pressed play on his I-Pod. Minutes later, a clear call from the Long-whiskered Owlet was heard, ad goose bumps dotted my arms; it was close. We tried drawing it in even closer, but the stubborn little owl refused to budge. The local ranger was unphased though, instructed us to stay put, while he went to try and find it perched. He'd barely been gone minutes when he called us up, he had his spotlight planted right on this tiny owl! Me being a Tropical Birding guide on holiday on a Tropical Birding tour, did the genial thing and stayed at the back, thinking that once Rick and Mark had had their fill, I could move in for better looks. Unfortunately, the owlet left before I was able to do so, and I felt a little miffed I had not seen it's face, and it's famous whiskers better. But I was lucky enough to have seen this rare owl, and we were fortunate enough to have seen it at our first attempt. We arrived back the lodge for dinner triumphant, but on hearing the other group had not seen the owlet where they had tried, we had to mute our celebrations somewhat.

After dinner, and feeling luck was on our side, we opted for some further owling around the lodge, for this region is rich in owls, and we were enjoying the fruits of this on the trip, and did not want it to end. We visited their small canopy tower a few hundred meters from our cabins, and called in a White-throated Screech-Owl successfully, although it never sat where photos were an option unfortunately. We also heard a Rufous-banded Owl from their, but could not get it to come closer. Recognising this was another rare night for owls (I mean we had seen two species and heard three with relatively little time in the field), I was keen to head on further down the trail for another species, and one which I had not seen: Cinnamon Screech-Owl. However, with the clock pushing past ten o'clock, all the same people in the group turned the offer down to join me. So I found myself alone, walking on down unfamiliar trails. However, I was in my element, owls were calling regularly-I heard another (thought distant) Long-whiskered Owlet, another Rufous-banded Owl (equally as stubborn and uncooperative as the first), and so felt good about my chances. It seemed a vocal night for owls. I continued on down the trail, every so often playing the call of Cinnamon Screech-Owl in the hope of hearing an answer. I was not really sure how far I'd come (and had been told that the magic marker for the owl was 700m); but at one point I was near certain I heard just the right call for my quarry. I played the call softly to check that my thoughts were right, and was then utterly convinced I had heard the Cinnamon Screech-Owl. I ploughed on down the trail, with my neadlamp lighting the way. A hundred meters or more further, I noticed something in the periphery of my vision sitting beside the trail, and it seemed to glow orange: CINNAMON SCREECH-OWL. None of this chasing it down and scrambling through undergrowth that I had envisaged, it was merely sitting by the trail, waiting for me to turn up!

I climbed into bed at 1 o'clock in the morning ecstatic at a three owl night (again) on the trip; and full of enthusiasm at what this exciting venue was going to produce the next day. We were not to be disappointed, as we enjoyed several excellent days birding in the area...