The Return to Cusuco
After measuring thousands of dead birds I was keen to see
some live ones. So it was that I secured a place
on the annual Operation Wallacea expedition to Honduras. The last time I had
been to Honduras was in 2011 when I joined Operation Wallacea as a volunteer, spending
two weeks in the cloud forests of Cusuco National Park and two weeks diving in
the Bay Island of Utila. Back then, I did not know where my research interests
would take me and I kept my options open, helping with the numerous surveys
undertaken by OpWall. Little did I know I would return, four years later, as a
member of the ornithology team.
Operation Wallacea is a conservation organisation working in
12 countries around the world. There, they conduct research into the biology
and conservation of the natural systems in which they operate. The appeal of
Honduras the first time around was the excellent combination of rainforest and
reef but this time chance, nostalgia and the drive to go birding took me back. The location was Cusuco National Park, 23,440 hectares of
protected are in the Merendon Mountains of northwest Honduras. This comprises
1/3 core protected zone and 2/3 buffer zone with eight camps distributed over
an altitudinal range of 1,500 m. Part of the
Meso-American biodiversity hotspot, the cloud forest is characterised by its
high species richness and endemism making it the 48th most important
protected area for biodiversity in the world. My poison is obviously birds, which Cusuco does not lack. With a park species list approaching 300 I was keen to
set out and see come for myself.
In Cusuco there is a team for most major groups of organisms,
responsible for the standardised, long-term monitoring of said group through
their various means. Over time and space we hope to see how the anthropogenic impacts
of climate change and habitat degradation affect this precious ecosystem. The
large bird team split their time mainly between point counts and ringing. The
former allows the detection of a large proportion of the avian diversity over
larger areas whilst the latter provides more detailed, individual information
on those species that can be caught close to the ground. Not yet being a ringer
myself, I was only able to help with ringing for my first week under the close
supervision of friend and colleague Sam Jones. The rest of the time I would be
entrusted with the point counts.
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| Slate-throated whitestart |
I was wont to tell people of the difficulty of point counts,
mainly to big myself up, but also because it did entail a certain degree of
knowledge. To do point counts I was required to be able to ID a good number of
species from the off. In the tropics the vast number of bird detections are
audial so, as with previous fieldwork in Australia, I needed to spend some time
in advance of the trip listening to bird songs and calls. This, coupled with a
tome of a bird book and some bedtime reading, meant that on arrival in Base
Camp, I was not completely bewildered.
The Base Camp of Cusuco was a familiar site and I was happy
to be back. My first morning there took me straight into the forest for my
first point count. Point counts are simple in principle. After one minute of
acclimatisation, the observer spends ten minutes recording all of the bird
species detected. For each individual, the estimated distance and method of
detection are recorded. It was reassuring to discover that some of the species
had stuck in my mind so I could pick out the ubiquitous slate-coloured
solitaires and black-headed nightingale thrushes against the cacophony but
there was still a lot to learn.
With a steep learning curve came a steep slope, straight to
the camp of Cantiles where I would be spending my first two weeks. I’m not
going to lie, that three hour hike nearly killed me and for those of you who’ve
done it, I know it wasn’t even that hard but it transpired I was surprisingly
(or perhaps unsurprisingly) unfit and those who saw me stumble, red-faced into
camp can testify. Thankfully this lack of fitness abated somewhat over my time
in Cusuco.
Cantiles was a stunning camp, set on a steep hill among
huge, epiphyte-ridden trees. With the highest altitude of any camp, Cantiles
also boasts some tricky transects yet these winding routes reach up into the
dwarf forest on the very highest peaks of the park. There, amidst stunted, moss-clad
trees and mist-drenched bromeliads, I could watch the dawn come, hear the birds
sing their chorus and see the wine-throated hummingbirds flit between the
flowers (#birdon). However, I still hate mornings and getting up early was a
grim necessity especially when it came to reverse transects. Rising at 3 AM to traipse
for three hours through the dark, through the bugs, through the grasping, elfin
forest was not my idea of fun but balance is important and the sampling of each
transect requires surveying to be conducted in both directions, beginning at
dawn.
The first week was something of a crash course. Under the
esteemed tutelage of Sam, fellow birders Daniel, Adam and I spent that time
getting to grips with the protocols and the birds, sometimes literally, where
ringing was involved. Despite the knackering transects I was enjoying myself. The
first week lent confidence to the second whereupon Adam and I were left in
Cantiles to continue the survey effort. We were joined by the first wave of research
assistants, an enthusiastic bunch who surprised me in their willingness for
early starts. The devilish, mountain-top transects were tempered by long spells
of opportunistic birding. These additional surveys are being tested alongside
ringing and point counts for their efficacy in discovering the species richness
of remote areas. They were also an excuse to sit back in a sunny spot and watch
the birds fly by, especially rewarding when conducted in conjunction with a
waterfall swim.
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| Wine-throated hummingbird |
Heading West
Thus the second week flew by and it came to leaving time,
onwards to the next camp: El Danto. A fellowship of scientists and students
departed Cantiles with a daunting ‘8 hour’ trek ahead. I can’t complain much
about the 6 ½ hour walk which was much easier than I expected but then I did
make my life much simpler by taking the bare minimum to the West Side. The West
Side were those few camps reached only by arduous hikes, a long way from the
dry pine forests of Base Camp and the East Side. El Danto squatted in a short
forest, shrouded in mist, clinging to the banks of a rocky river. Though I did
not care for the constant damp or the sheer climb to the long-drops, I liked Danto
for its forgiving transects. I was the sole birder at the camp and conducted my
first point counts alone. As such, it was in this week that I shifted a gear;
now comfortable with the common birds I set out to find more, to bolster my
species list. This happened with some success as I found those species that had
evaded me for a while (eye-ringed flatbill) and others which represented the
first inclination of more disturbed, lower altitudes (masked tityra).
Disturbance was a defining feature of the West Side as the
scars of man encroached inexorably on the supposedly protected forest. Whole
transects have been lost to deforestation and this became more apparent as I
moved on from El Danto. I began a five day journey to my next camp, Capuca. The
first stop was Cortecito, a beautiful camp set deep in a valley of huge trees
and colourful flowers. It was a shame to only see this camp for a night as it
promised interesting birds and gave good views of foraging howler monkeys. A
brief liaise with Sam also spurred me on to continue my search for more species.
From Cortecito, I descended further in the company of
herpetologists Justin, Cheyenne and Alex. We ended our West Side experience in
Santo Tomas, a tiny yet well furnished ‘camp’ in the buffer zone of the park.
Santo Tomas was rife with nostalgia as I skirted the hill where once had stood
a camp of real size which served as the main camp of the West Side. In 2011 I
had spent my second week here taking in the local bird life but now the camp has
all but disappeared. This is in part due to the extent of deforestation in the
area rendering the camp impractical to run at full capacity. Now it operates
only as an exit camp, releasing staff from the West Side. I knew the birding
was good here so I had less than 24 hours to see what I could. My time was well
spent and rewarded me with 32 species for my list including the stunning
keel-billed toucan and blue-crowned motmot as well as a whole host of lowland ‘trash’
birds (Jones 2015).
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| Violet sabrewing nest |
Back to the East
A long drive and a sumptuous Burger King took us back to
Base Camp. One night there gave me time to check out some local birds
(white-breasted hawk nest) before heading to Capuca. Capuca, Capuca, Capuca.
Rain, mud and illness defined the first half of the week and no amount of
tropical skittles or bean-themed card games could lift my cynicism. However, as
always, Cusuco provided good company and top chat so that the week was still
enjoyable. Moreover it was my first week of school groups which meant ‘inspiring
the next generation’. I tried my best to sell birds to the students and
succeeded to some small degree but regardless it was good to have them around
and see them power through the mud and D & V to emerge enthusiastic and
triumphant. The birding that week was a shade less exhilarating than previous
weeks but still offered ‘billboard’ views of a resplendent quetzal.
And so I came to my last week. Habitat bloke Rik and I were ushered
through Base Camp before a truck took us onwards to Buenos Aires (BA). You do
not know luxury until you go to BA! They have plastic, flushing things called
toilets, a dense springy layer called a mattress and all the junk food you
could want. I loved BA from start to finish. Not only was the living standard
higher and the company excellent but the birding was fresh and new too. Very
few of the core zone species seep down to the deforested area surrounding the village;
instead a suite of more generalist birds took their place. The interesting
transects took me through a range of habitats enabling me to increase my list
further, despite the protestations of fatigued students. Once again the week
passed quickly, a blur of early starts, phallic frozen bananas and various
medicines. The end came with one last dawn, one last opportunity to see the sun
rise pink above the cloud forest. I joined a group heading down the mountain, comfortable
in a seat rather than the bone-breaking bed of a pick-up, whereupon I lounged in
the melancholy of leaving and the reverie of what had passed.
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| Resplendent quetzal |
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| Buenos Aires and environs |
