Ciblek Mania

This post is a continuation of Part 5: Trekking Up Turtle Mountain. Walking back down from Turtle Mountain, one might think, would be easier than walking up. However we took a different forest trail—one that was a tad rootier and rockier—winding through more giant trees and deeper shade. As it was already afternoon, the forest was growing quieter. The first recognizable sound I heard was a grunt, quickly followed by a bad word, emanating from my own mouth as a result of stepping awkwardly on a root and twisting my ankle.

This was to be the first solid evidence than I had made bad footwear choices for this trip. Feeling the pressure of the trip's weight limitations, I took the minimum footwear I thought necessary. I packed light hiking boots (Merrills, which always seem to be too small once you leave the shoe store), some Keen flip-flops, and a new pair of rugged Crocs. I was wearing the Merrills when I stumbled, and the ankle support was not enough, apparently. I did not break anything, but the ankle would remain tender throughout the trip.

If I were going back to Guyana today, I would take better, more supportive hikers, plus a pair of beater tennis shoes (ones I could leave behind at the end of the trip), and some regular Keen sandals. In the heat, humidity, rain, and rivers your feet are damp a lot of the time in Guyana. Blisters and sore spots make it necessary to give your feet a break by changing into alternative footwear. Once my hikers became uncomfy, my choices were the Crocs (which raised immediate blisters), and the Keen flip-flops, which were neither safe nor rugged enough for the trails we hiked.

Just as I was regaining my composure after a litany of whispered, banned-from-the-radio words, we began seeing birds. Simultaneously it began to rain buckets. We stepped in lively fashion down the trail to a clearing where some open-sided buildings gave us shelter from the storm. When the rain quit, the bird activity resumed. Parrots, macaws, toucans, tanagers, woodcreepers, and a range of other feathered wonders caught our eyes.

We scanned the treetops on the forest edge identifying the parrots and macaws that were preening after the shower. We shook the rain off our "plumage" too, and wiped lenses dry. Then back on the trail en route to the boat landing.

We did not get very far. One of our most interesting encounters was with a pair of waved woodpeckers. One of which—the male—stayed long enough for scope looks and photos. It was picking something off the bark of a huge tree and wiping it through its feathers. We could not tell if it was sap or ants or something else. But the bird was sufficiently engrossed in its ablutions that we got very close to it.

A small flock of painted parrots (above) was foraging in fruit trees next to the path and a pair of yellow-billed jacamars (below) was hawking insects in an adjacent clearing. We all stopped to admire these cooperative birds and our reverie was broken, not by the rain re-starting (which it did), but by the prodding voices of our leaders admonishing us to finish the hike back to the boats (which we did).

The boat ride back to Iwokrama gave us a chance to cool off after the intensely humid hike. The cooling air actually made the sun enjoyable. Had we been stationary, it would have been another story altogether.

Back on the friendly grounds of Iwokrama, we split into groups—some heading off for a siesta, some hoping the solar-powered wireless would be working, and the rest of us off for—what else—birding. Wally lead us along the Screaming Piha Trail in search of Guyana's weirdest bird: the capuchinbird, or calf bird. We heard them on their lek, high in the canopy, and we got modestly good looks at these cartoony creatures, but the daylight was fleeing and the show was soon over for the day. I'll tell more about a subsequent encounter with the capuchinbirds in a later post.

Moments after emerging from the trail, we took to the boats again, motoring across the river to a small island where there is a family-run bar.
We drank rum poured into cut coconuts, which is mandatory on any trip to the tropics, apparently.
When the coconuts were all gone, we had cold Banks Beer and watched the sun kiss the sky goodnight. Funny, my ankle felt fine at this point.

In part 3 of my series of posts about birding in Guyana, I promised to show you some of the birds we saw on our six-hour drive along the road from Rock View Lodge to the Iwokrama Forest Reserve and Ecolodge.

My mind is back on Guyana for a couple of reasons. First of all there is just so much to share about my trip there. Secondly, the upcoming issue (July/August 2010) of Bird Watcher's Digest features Guyana in our regular travel column "Far Afield." Julie Zickefoose writes about her trip to Guyana in an article entitled "Journey to the Lungs of the Earth."

Thirdly, I've just finished the rough edits on a podcast about Guyana for "This Birding Life." That should be ready for listening within a few days.

In our last Guyana blog post, we left off just after a flight from Georgetown to the Annai airstrip in the interior. We lunched at Rock View Lodge and climbed aboard three 4 x 4 trucks for transport along the lone road in the interior of Guyana to Iwokrama. The road bed was red clay and very dusty. I felt lucky to be in the lead vehicle, which was also the lone truck with air conditioning. The day was as hot as the hinges of Hades, but even the delicious comfort of the cool truck cab could not keep us from leaping out each time we spotted a new bird.
King vultures mixed with blacks and turkeys overhead. Several species of caracara added themselves to our list, including a screaming family group of red-throated caracaras. Small clusters of swallow-tailed kites skimmed the tree tops. The landscape was changing from open savanna scrub to forest edge and then to proper forest. As it changed, so did the bird life.


Swallow-winged puffbirds sallied forth from snags. Macaws and parakeets whirred across the roadway opening. Roadside hawks lived up to their names.

Strange bird shapes appeared everywhere, causing excited shouts from our truck.

We'd get out, optics swinging onto targets and shout out names, or more likely families of birds, or even MORE likely things like "I have a large dark raptor with a long tail." Or "I've got some sort of jacamar on that snag on the left."
Or "Some tiny green thing is singing and hover-gleaning over here in this fruiting tree." Our guides helped call out the birds' names when they could.

The farther along the road we we, the deeper and older the forest got. Soon we passed through the gate into the Iwokrama Forest Reserve and it was here that we entered the true rain forest.


We continued driving and stopping for birds for the next few hours. When all the trucks in our convoy finally got together, our tour leaders told us we were running really behind schedule. Since we still had a long way to drive before reaching the Iwokrama River Lodge, we had to swear that we'd only stop for the rarest of the rare. Suggestions were made for what would qualify as a stop-worthy sighting: Jaguar, harpy eagle, and anaconda were all mentioned. I threw in "A Pittsburgh Pirates' World Championship" knowing full well that we'd be more likely to find the other three creatures together, playing poker in the middle of the road before I'd see the Pirates hoist the World Champion flag over their stadium.

We made better time the rest of the way, but still stopped a few times. Once for a long, bright green snake that had been killed in the road.


And a few times for new bird species. We arrived at Iwokrama well after dusk, dusty, hot, hungry, and tired—but happy for a great day of birding along the only read road in Guyana's interior.

Here are a few of the bird images I captured that day.

Oh yes! Guyana.

After a lovely (too short) morning of birding in the botanical gardens in Georgetown, we were herded to the small, in-town airport for a flight to the interior of Guyana. Because we were taking a small 12-seat plane on this flight, weight was an important factor. We had been warned about this in advance by our hosts and leaders, but that didn't stop us—well it didn't stop me—from bringing far too much stuff. We were weighed by our trip leaders at the hotel. Then weighed again at the airport. I won the avoirdupois prize as the heaviest traveler. Fully one-third of my things—mostly stuff I would not need immediately—was sent by bus overland, along with extras from my fellow travelers.

We were all caught between the pull of wanting to have all of our camera and birding gear with us, along with the proper clothing and footwear, and the necessity of packing the absolute minimum. We also had to send one of our leaders on the land bus. That alone saved us more than 300 pounds of humanity (sorry, just kidding Michael).


Onto the plane we went and in moments we were in the air flying away from Georgetown. Below us stretched miles of housing, then the houses were replaced by a ring of cane fields.
Some of the cane fields were being burned off and we could see and smell the smoke rising from the earth.
Then we were away from all signs of human habitation and civilization. Below us lay unbroken rain forest, a vast carpet of green. It was a sight that did the heart some good. This is why we were here—to experience what is perhaps the last vast expanse of undisturbed rain forest in South America.

Our destination, the Annai landing strip, hove into sight. While flying we'd seen a few birds—turkey and black vultures mostly, with two distant king vultures for added spice. I strained my eyes hoping to catch sight of a harpy eagle perched on one of the emergent snags jutting above the forest canopy, but was unsuccessful.
The Annai landing strip is a dirt road next to Rock View Lodge, one of the largest eco-lodges in Guyana. Stepping from the plane we felt our knees buckle in the mid-day heat. Soon cold drinks and a nice lunch at Rock View Lodge helped revive us.



After lunch we began birding the grounds. Palm and blue-gray tanagers were common. A white-necked thrush was building a nest under the thatched canopy of a benab. I caught a fleeting glimpse of a burnish-buff tanager in a fruiting tree. A horse corral held a number of southern lapwings and the aforementioned buff-necked ibis. I had the feeling that this place would be much birdier early in the morning.

Leon, a guide at Rock View Lodge, gave us a tour of the grounds and facilities, which included very nice guest rooms, a bar and general store, a huge vegetable garden, and the stony promontory from which the lodge derives its name. I would have been content to stay right on that overlook for the rest of the day, conducting a Big Sit, perhaps with a run to the store for some munchies and a frosty cold beer, but our leaders needed to get us on the move. This would become a theme of the trip.

We boarded several 4x4 trucks and headed down a long, straight, red-clay road. Destination Iwokrama, a field station and eco-lodge owned and operated by the Makushi people in the heart of the vast Iwokrama Forest. If one were to drive directly, I suspect this trip would have taken about two hours. We birders found so much to look at that we stretched the drive until well after dark. Arriving at Iwokrama, we hauled our luggage to our rooms, splashed our faces with water and reconvened at the main building for a late dinner. By the time we finished eating and had a brief orientation meeting, I was so tired my eyes were crossing.

Everyone hurried back to their cabins to get ready for bed before the generator was switched off. This was our first night sleeping without air-conditioning under the very necessary mosquito netting. I tried to recall the life birds I'd seen that day but did not get far before dropping into slumberland.

In my next post, I'll share some of the special sightings from the road to Iwokrama.