Insatiable Birding in Ecuador
I started birdwatching in February 2018, spurred on by reading about Noah Stryker’s traveling quest to set the world record for bird species seen in a year. After a few months of getting into it, I knew I would eventually have to make a fully bird-related trip. Stryker himself advised of Ecuador, with “more than 1,700 species — 16 percent of the world’s birds on less than 0.0006 percent of its land surface, a history of conservation and being stable, safe, and small enough to cover efficiently, if you want to see the most species of birds in the shortest amount of time, Ecuador is without a doubt the best place to do it.”
So, when a flight deal to Quito popped up last spring, I instantly jumped on a 13 day trip. After telling my folks about it, my father grumbled sarcastically, “where’s my ticket?” So, I purchased him one and drug him along for the bird expedition. Over the course of the trip, we logged 272 unique species, 265 of which were new additions on my “life list.” For comparison, I had recorded only 220 in the U.S. in my year and a half of birding. We spent most of our time at lodges out in the middle of nowhere designed for birdwatching, so brace yourself for mostly bird pictures. As usual, if you want to check out a smaller album of picture highlights, click here.
First, we spent a day in Quito after a late night arrival taking in the old town and attempting to stave off altitude headaches with coca leaves.
We stumbled upon a parade of sorts going through the Old Town.
We then decamped to the Teleferico, one of the highest aerial cable car lifts in the world. Once we got to the top the altitude headache really started to get to us.
Finally, it was time to go birding. The first stop was Refugio Paz de las Aves, run by Ángel Paz, a former logger-turned bird whisperer that figured out a way to coax out a variety of scarely seen, small ground-dwelling Antpittas. Alas, we did not get to see “Maria” the Giant Antpitta that put his operation on the map, but we did get the four other species, each with their own amusing female Latina names I have since forgotten.
Àngel and his brother and son took us around on various walks on the property to see other birds, including to a lek, home to the Andean Cock-of-the-rock, which makes a funny noise and does an even funnier dance in its attempts to attract a female. I’m sure they say the same about us.
The Paz’s operation was bare-bones, mostly suited for day-tripper tours, but by spending the night we got to hang out with the family for a jovial dinner featuring their version of moonshine and some gin Frank had procured in Quito. In what was to be a common theme on the trip, we were joined by only one other tourist, a middle-aged man from Malaysia with a super big camera.
In the middle of dinner, an otherwise cloudy evening turned into a briefly beautiful sunset that I snapped a few pictures of.
By spending the night, we also got to go on an owl walk after dinner. I was pretty jazzed up, as I had momentarily gotten enough trace of internet before dinner to see that Wake Forest was beating UNC in football 21–0. We went out into the woods and promptly heard an owl, and Àngel’s brother Rodrigo began attempting to call it in. It responded, but was wholly uninterested in showing itself for us as we scanned with spotlights into the forest. We spent the next 45 or so minutes trying in vain to see this owl. Eventually I got tired and went and sat on a log and tried to get internet again to check the score of the game. About 10 minutes later, the owl flew over our heads across the road and into a small field where things were being grown. Rodrigo quickly motioned us over there, where we were met with a 4 foot high barbed fence. He instructed us to climb over it. I looked at my father who now qualifies but does not receive social security and doubted my own ability to do this, let alone his. But there was an owl there, and by god I was going to see it. So, I climbed over this fence and then my father did the same, and we stood for a minute and looked for the owl. Almost immediately after Rodrigo spotted it (and before he could shine the spotlight on it) it flew back across the road into the forest. We climbed back over the fence without managing to injure ourselves and were ready to give up. We probably would have had Malaysian man not been there, but he really wanted to see an owl, so we let Rodrigo attempt to call it again as we retreated to logs to sit on. After another 10 or 15 minutes (2 hours in owl calling time), by some miracle I got the score to update on my phone and it showed wake pulling it out 24–18. Almost immediately after exulting in relief at this news, Rodrigo forcefully whispered “here!” and shone the light on the owl, perched on a branch no more than 20 feet away from us in plain view. I snapped as many pictures as possible, it flew to another branch 90 seconds later, paused momentarily, then bolted.
The rest of my time at Refugio Paz was filled with great bird encounters, including some by aid of carefully placed bananas that allowed for stunning up-close pictures. This would ruin my expectations of the quality of my photos for the rest of the trip.
There were hummingbird feeders at Refugio Paz, but I didn’t really zero in on them like I would later in the trip, so my hummingbird pictures are a little less exciting than they would be later.
I know, but we’re just getting STARTED with the bird pictures. That was location one of six, so buckle up for the short ride down the road in the Mindo Cloud Forest to Tandayapa and the Bellavista Lodge, a swankier accommodation replete with exactly zero other visitors to see the cornucopia of birds present there. Because it was a short distance away from Refugio, it was home to many of the same birds.
There are so many more pictures — we aren’t even halfway done, so click here for part two!
