Birds of Panama

Local Trash Birds- Cotingas and Honeycreepers

	"Trash birds"- a term used by birders to describe a species that is so commonplace in a particular locale that it becomes a bit boring, if not downright irritating, to see it repeatedly. The Green Honeycreeper (pictured at left), although beautiful, was indeed quite commonplace; a fellow birder, Joe Hammond, exclaimed in frustration, "If I see one more damned honeycreeper I just might lose my mind!", referring to the fact that every time he searched a flock of birds for a rarity, he seemed to focus on the omnipresent Green Honeycreeper. They are part of the tanager family, a large, colorful, and fairly common family of birds that often travel in mixed flocks high in the trees, defying easy identification. I saw 22 species of tanagers on the trip, the majority of which were new to me. The behavior of these mixed feeding flocks was unpredictable; one day, in Metropolitan Park in Panama City, I found myself surrounded by a large flock comprised mostly of tanagers, some of the birds within a few feet of me. Several of the birds were Blue Dacnis, a handsome member of the family that I was accustomed to seeing at a distance, well off the ground. I was a bit mystified by this gregarious behavior until I looked at my outfit; I was wearing a lime-green shirt and a bright blue bandana. My "plumage" matched that of a female Blue Dacnis.... At one point, a dull moment no doubt, we debated what the "can't miss it" bird of the trip was, a bird that seems the signature bird of an area, and one that you'd be embarassed to go home without having seen. That bird for this trip was the Blue Cotinga, a striking bird that is usually quite easy to see from the Tower, and one which I saw in almost every birding locale I visited. Cotingas are a strange, flashy, and diverse family of neotropical birds, seemingly a hodge-podge of birds that don't fit in anywhere else. The only other representative of this family that I saw here was the Purple-throated Fruitcrow; one day we watched a male fanning its signature throat feathers in a stunning display (of course, my camera was in the "off" position). Blue Cotingas would perch at length in the treetops around the viewing platform at the Tower, and their odd, dove-like shape and radiant blue plumage stuck out like a sore thumb. I finally saw a female on my last morning; in an extreme case of sexual dimorphism, the female is quite drab, only a bit of blue on the back and breast hinting as to the connection to the flashy male. Despite their common nature, I never tired of seeing Blue Cotingas.

The Amazing Toucans

One of the most remarkable experiences of the Canopy Tower was the opportunity to see several species of toucans at close range. Two species, Keel-billed Toucan and Emerald Toucanet, were only seen on field trips, and usually feeding at treetop level. But two others, Chestnut-mandibled Toucan (pictured at right and at the top of this page) and Collared Aracari, often came in to feed within a few feet of the viewing platform at the upper level of the Tower. They favored the fruits of a large cecropia; this beleagured tree was also the darling of Three-toed Sloths and flocks of smaller birds. Toucans are a uniquely designed family of birds; their enormous bills, while superficially cumbersome, are actually quite lightweight, and perfectly adapted for stretching far to glean large fruits. I was fortunate to obtain outstanding footage of both species, including the Collared Aracari (at left), feeding in the cecropia. They would reach out with their bills and pluck a large, oblong fruit, and then toss it around until it was aligned lengthwise with their bills, then toss their heads back to throw it directly down their throats. Toucans are certainly among the most breathtaking and endearing birds seen at the Canopy Tower!

Trogons, Trogons Everywhere!"

Another unique and well-represented family of birds here were the trogons, of which I saw six species on the trip. Trogons are a large (about Blue Jay-sized), colorful neotropical family that includes the Resplendant Quetzal, the national bird (and namesake of its currency) of Guatemala. The most common species, seen from the Tower and on almost every field trip, was the Slaty-tailed Trogon, pictured from both sides below.

Despite their size, and bright coloration, trogons can be quite difficult to locate; their loud, barking calls can be heard at some distance, but they generally clam up when in clear view. They are also quite sedentary in their habits, and the best chance one has of finding trogons is catching them in flight, then spotting their perch. Once found, they can be gregarious and accomodating- the female Violaceous Trogon perched at left flew in a few feet over my head in Parque Metropolitano, and posed for me for several minutes. Another charming habit is the way they slowly cock their heads, evident in this photo, as if checking you out. I found it almost impossible to observe this behavior without tilting and rolling my head in imitation.

Parrots and Their Kin

At the crack of dawn each morning (sometimes before), I sat on the viewing veranda atop the Tower to enjoy early bird activity (it was quite the civilized occasion; coffee and scones were brought up to us pre-breakfeast). Without fail, every morning flocks of squawking parrots would fly by, moving from nocturnal roosts to daytime feeding trees. They generally stayed at some distance, and were best identified by their calls and size. Most were Red-lored Parrots (pictured at top right) and the larger Mealy Amazons, with the occasional Blue-headed Parrot tossed in for good measure. Another conspicuous member of this family was the Orange-chinned Parakeet, which travels in large, social flocks, and seems quite accustomed to living around human beings. They were most easily filmed around fruit feeders in the town of Gamboa, which is where the image at bottom right was obtained.

The Biggest Challenge: The Tyrant-Flycatchers

The neotropics support a remarkable assortment of the large family known as tyrant-flycatchers, belonging to the order passeriformes, broadly defined as "perching birds", inclusive of all species known as "songbirds" (which flycatchers are not). Many genera of this family contain excrutiatingly similar species, and field identification of flycatchers is probably the greatest challenge in neotropical birding. The Rusty-margined Flycatcher pictured at right is part of a group of closely related, superficially quite similar, genera which was represented by 5 different species on this trip. I saw either 34 or 36 species of tyrant-flycatchers on the trip (depending on whose taxonomy your observe), a remarkable 26 of which were new to me. Besides the maddening look-alikes, the family contains a number of fascinating oddballs, including the tiny Black-capped Pygmy-Tyrant, which, at under 3 inches long, is the smallest passerine in Panama (in the world, perhaps?). Another one of the miniatures that I enjoyed was the only slightly larger Common Tody-Flycatcher, pictured at left; I was fortunate to find a tiny, hanging-basket nest of this species in Parque Metropolitano, attended by two busy, buzzing adults. This bird also illustrates an interesting feature of avian nomenclature. There are a number of species with hyphenated or compound family names; the second part usually represents the family it belongs to, the first a family that one might be reminded of when seeing the behavior species. In this case, the small flycatchers are reminiscent of a family of small, round-ish, short-winged birds that are limited in range to the northern Caribbean. Other examples of this naming trend I saw on this trip are Green Shrike-Vireo, Rosy Thrush-Tanager, and, in not much of a stretch, Black Hawk-Eagle.

Speaking of Eagles....Birds of Prey
Please forgive the dangling participle.....the neotropics, probably due to an abundance of potential prey, support a wide variety of birds belonging to the order falconiformes, generally referred to as birds of prey. On this trip, I saw 3 vultures, 7 kites, 4 hawks, 2 caracaras, 2 forest-falcons, 1 eagle, and an Osprey! Details of my encounters with Black Hawk-Eagle and Slaty-backed Forest Falcon are contained in my Panama journal. Particularly exciting was the preponderance of kites, a group of smallish, gracefully gliding birds, of which I had only seen 4 species prior to Panama. On a boat ride up the canal, and the surrounding Gatún Lake, I saw at least 100 individual Snail Kites, a species which is federally endangered in the United States. The Tower itself, surrounded by, and overlooking, ridges and valleys, also proved to be an excellent vantage point from which to observe birds of prey. All three vultures and several kites could often be seen riding thermals, essentially updrafts of warm air that make gliding easy, especially in the early morning and late afternoon. One afternoon, as a storm was approaching, a kettle (a term describing a group of birds soaring in a circle with the current) containing dozens of Swallow-tailed Kites (my first sightings of this species!) swirled past the Tower, pushed ahead of the rain by prevailing winds.

I'll also address in this category, although they are not related to the above, a couple of owl sightings. We were rained out of the best opportunity to take a night owling trip, and my own informal efforts only produced one species, Mottled Owl. But one of the true highlights of the trip occurred on a field trip one late afternoon to Old Gamboa Road. Our guide, José, found a roosting Spectacled Owl perched in a tree a hundred feet or so off the road, in plain view. Most of us had not seen the species previously, and we generally agreed that it might be the most beautiful owl we would ever see. Most owls have cryptic coloration, meaning they are rather plainly colored, designed to be well-camouflaged at their most vulnerable time, while roosting during the daylight hours. The striking plumage of this bird is atypical of the family, the reason for which might be evident in its large size (almost 2 feet), and massive, deadly-looking white talons, visible in the pictures below.

Some of the Oddballs- Puffbirds, Jacamars, Motmots, and Potoos

	Nope, I didn't make these names up! The wide world of birds contains some oddities that seem to defy classification, and Panama hosts several of them. A fascinating family is the jacamars, generally large, kingfisher-like birds that nest, often colonially, in earthen banks, such as at stream or road edges. One of our most sought after birds was the especially large and lovely Great Jacamar, and one morning we found one along Pipeline Road, perched conspicuously, and for a long time, less than 25' over our heads. By good fortune, this handsome fellow was my 900th life bird, an excellent milestone bird! A closely related family is the puffbirds, none of which I had seen before this trip. I was fortunate to see three species of puffbirds, whose evocative name is borne out by their rather portly shape. Puffbirds are notoriously difficult to spot (nothing much is easy here!); they remain perched quietly in the upper canopy for extended lengths of time, only sallying forth occasionally in flycatching forays, usually returning to the same perch. Two of the species were spotted for me, but I was proud to find my own first White-necked Puffbird (pictured here at right) in Parque Metropolitano.The bird was at a decent range, and well-lit, but of course my camera had taken that moment to malfunction due to the extreme humidity. Fortunately, we found another one near the Tower the next day, and I was able to obtain some decent footage. Crowd favorites, especially among the non-birders, were the flashy motmots, of which I saw three species. Like trogons, these large, slender birds can be rather sedentary, but they are quite vocal (the calls of some species led to the family's name- a guttural "mot-mot"). I got quite decent at finding these birds for the group, spotting my own first Broad-billed Motmot (pictured here at left). The most striking feature of this family is their badminton racquet-shaped tails; they are born with two long tail feathers, and as they preen, the weak barbs along the middle of the tails are worn off, resulting, by adulthood, in two long, baby spoon feathers. Finally, there is the strange case of the Great Potoo. In another case of extreme cryptic coloration, this large nightjar roosts safely all day by sitting atop a straight, dead branch, flattening its tail against its perch, and looking for all the world like an extension of the wood. At night they can be found by the reflection of their eyes in a strong flashlight; by day, they are almost invisible, and we were fortunate to find a perched bird within 50 feet or so of the viewing platform at the Tower. It's location was consistent from day to day, but so well-hidden was it that I could be shown the bird through a telescope, lift my head, and be unable to relocate it with my binoculars. The photo here was obtained one day as the bird's feathers were being ruffled in the wind, and it was turning its head a bit, as if irritated. The footage is actually crystal clear, but I still had to digitally enhance the image to make the bird visible. Truly a remarkable creature!

The Little Songsters- Antbirds and Wrens

These two groups are not particularly closely related, although they are both passerines, but they are connected in my mind by the circumstances in which they were seen; generally at close range in thick roadside vegetation, and in large, mixed species groups. I've got a lot of footage of songs of these birds emanating from bushes, but few shots of the actual birds. The preening Bicolored Antbird pictured at left is the exception to the rule. Antbirds belong to two closely related families, and, as their name implies, are associated with swarms of army ants, which stir up the insects upon which the birds feed. The mixed-species flocks moved quickly through thick growth, but at near ground level, and, as they stayed with the ants, could generally be picked out and identified. The notable exception is the secretive antpittas, one of the rarely-seen denizens of the rainforest. One day, along Pipeline Road, we heard a calling Streak-chested Antpitta very near the path. We quietly slipped into the forest, patiently waiting as the bird seemed to move closer and closer, until it seemed to be less than 20 feet from us. Then it abruptly clammed up, and despite a reasonably clear view of the forest floor, and the audio playback efforts of Jesse Fagan, we never heard from the bird again. The Bicolored Antbird pictured below left, one of 14 species of antbirds sighted on the trip, was considerably more gracious, preening and posing at length. Wrens posed a slightly different challenge; their rich songs were heard often, but they are quite shy, and took some patience to find. The exception was the morning I set out on my own in Parque Metropolitano, a lovely, urban (I use the term loosely) park on the outskirts of Panama City. At times I was surrounded by mixed flocks comprised mostly of wrens, including the handsome Black-bellied Wren pictured here at right, who kindly serenaded me from a branch 10 feet above my head. I found a remarkable 6 species of wren this day, out of nine total on the trip, and it was particularly gratifying that several of those had been on my "heard only" list previously.

The Best of the Rest

I've only scratched the surface here in terms of the sheer variety of birds seen, reflecting my limited success in actually capturing the birds on video. A perfect example is the assortment of lovely hummingbirds present; I spotted 12 species on the trip, and at least six of those were regulars at the feeders at the base of the Tower, but none of my video was of a quality that bore reproduction here. A splendid sighting was the juvenille Bare-throated Tiger-Heron pictured at left, spotted by our captain on a boat trip on the Canal. The wonderfully accurate name is a fine example of the hyphenated nomenclature I discuss above, in this case crossing class boundaries. This bird allowed us to float within 10 feet of its perch, counting on its cryptic coloration to protect it, a sound choice for a species that is somewhat awkward and slow in flight. Another well-represented, but hard to spot, family is the manakins; these tiny songbirds have a remarkable mating practice. Males gather at a lek, which in general means a kind of courtship arena for birds, specifically, a small clearing under the canopy (interestingly, the word "lek" seems to derive from a Swedish word that can mean "sex play"!). When a female approaches, the males try to win her affection by engaging in a little dance, hopping up and down on branches and making a popcorn-like sound with their wings (the classic way to try to attract a manakin, as a birder, is to clap one's cupped hands together in imitation of this sound). Away from the lek, the birds are incredibly active and hard to pin down; the Red-capped Manakin at right popped, whistled, and hopped around me for a full 15 minutes, and this partially obscured shot was the best I could do.

Two orioles, three vireos, two oropendolas, three secretive rails, three kingfishers, five woodpeckers, two gnatwrens, two caciques, two saltators, seven doves, five woodcreepers, and an assortment of seedeaters and sparrows, including the Variable Seedeater pictured here, seen swinging and singing on a reed, associated with the grassy areas outside the rainforest: the list of families and species that I saw, and more that I missed, could go on and on. Panama is truly one of the most remarkable birding locales in the New World, and I fully intend to be back there repeatedly in my lifetime.

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