rare bird alert

Resembling a Lewis Carroll creation in both name and appearance, the bare-necked umbrellabird — nicknamed the “Elvis bird” because of its over-the-top pompadour — is one of Central America’s rarest and most remarkable winged denizens. There are only an estimated 2,500 individuals left in the wild, surviving in the tropical forests of Costa Rica and Panama. In addition to its dwindling populations, the umbrellabird is also challenging to find due to both its habitat and mannerisms. It lives almost exclusively in dense primary forests and tends to sit stock-still for long periods of time, blending into the canopy. One could go to a known umbrellabird site, stand right underneath the bird, and still miss it. D had spent the better part of a year searching for an umbrellabird whenever we happened on a likely forest without the tiniest hint of success. So when a colleague of S’s told her he had seen this once-in-a-lifetime bird recently and shared that the location was not far from San Jose, D immediately called and arranged to go the following morning.

That morning happened to be Thanksgiving. Rather than sleep in, D set an alarm to go off before sunrise, woke up a couple of minutes before it actually went off, quickly gathered his gear and set off toward what is otherwise an entirely unremarkable patch of tropical forest in the vicinity of Guapiles. The local guide, who proved to be the son of the property owners, told D there would be two more birders arriving at 7 a.m. and suggested D join them. Driving up through Braulio Carrillo National Park, a magnificent rainbow spread across the Rio Sucio valley just as the sun rose above the rainforest. D took this as a good omen, but the spectacular weather did not last. It might have been nice and sunny in Braulio Carrillo, but a rainstorm greeted D on arrival in Guapiles.

The other birders proved to be an older local couple with decades of birding experience and a Costa Rica life list north of 700 species (several hundred more than D has managed to find during our first year here). They had seen an umbrellabird before but wanted the opportunity to get better photos. While the couple breakfasted, D made himself comfortable under cover near some mostly-empty bird feeders. As it was still raining heavily, he was in no hurry to hit the trails. Fortunately, the rain eased up just as the other birders wrapped up their meal. A French tourist, who had brought his own guide, also linked up with D’s birding party, and all six birders — D, the three other visitors, and the two guides — set out into the forest together.

Even before getting started, D notched a stellar addition to his life list — the great potoo. Browsing the eBird checklists for this location, D had noticed recent reports of this well-camouflaged, difficult-to-spot, monstrous nightbird (description taken almost verbatim from eBird). Bug-eyed and nocturnal, potoos are superficially similar to owls, though the two species are not related. They sleep during the day, blending in perfectly with their chosen roosting spot. Fortunately, like owls, they are territorial and will return to roost on the same branch day in and day out, sometimes for years. The guide was fixated on finding the umbrellabird, but as soon as D asked about the potoo, he pointed out its roosting spot, high up in the canopy of a tree that stood at the edge of the parking area.

The local guide led the way into the forest and for the next two hours D and his birding companions made slow progress along muddy, overgrown trails, scanning the canopy for signs of movement or flashes of color. D kept his ears open for birdsong, but outside of one decent mixed-bird flock, the woods were mostly quiet. After an hour of traipsing through the woods, the only notable sighting was a handful of red-capped manakins — adorable, colorful little birds whose flame-red heads contrast remarkably with their jet-black body plumage and yellow thighs. There were a few males engaged in a mating display, buzzing rapidly from branch to branch, clicking loudly to attract attention. Beautiful birds, which we had seen only once before — in Uvita.

D was directly responsible for the next memorable sighting. The local guide had led the group to an area where he had previously seen umbrellabirds and suggested that the group wait along the path while he explored off-trail deeper in the bush. Leaving behind a walkie-talkie for the other guide, he headed off into the woods while the rest of the traveling party made themselves comfortable and settled in for the wait. D meanwhile wandered off down the trail on his own following a stray bird song that quickly morphed into a cacophony of alarmed chirps and tweets. The reason for all this commotion became apparent when D raised his binoculars to focus on a hummingbird he had seen out of the corner of his eye and instead found himself staring into the extra giant zoomed-in eye of a spectacled owl. There were two owls, in fact, sitting quietly side by side in the upper reaches of the canopy. Any day with an owl is a great day in D’s book. This was the second time he had glimpsed this particular species, the first coming on our very first hike after our arrival in San Jose last year.

The potoo, the red-capped manakins, and the pair of spectacled owls were all great sightings. Yet, the group was in a mostly deflated mood when, two hours after setting off into the woods, the guide paused at a signpost indicating that the exit was nearby. There had been no umbrellabird sightings and it seemed unlikely that one would be lurking on the remaining 500 meters of trail back to the parking area. “What do you want to do?” the guide asked, “shall we head back or give the trails another go?” The older birders opted to call it a day. They had seen the umbrellabird previously and, knowing that the odds of seeing one were always going to be slim, were not too disappointed. The French tourist had brought a massive tripod and heavy camera, which he had lugged along the muddy forest paths with increasing annoyance. He wanted to see the bird everyone kept raving about but after two hours wanted no more of that dense, muddy forest. D likewise recognized that the odds of seeing the umbrellabird were not great, but he also wasn’t quite ready to call it quits. He didn’t say anything, but this was plain enough for the older birders to see and they spoke up on his behalf.

“If you want to go, let’s give it another try,” the guide said gamely, so while everyone else trudged dejectedly toward the exit, he and D shouldered their packs and headed back into the woods. A couple of minutes along the trail, another mixed flock materialized and D stopped to see what he could see. He and the guide took turns calling out the birds: tanagers, woodcreepers, warblers — the usual suspects. D pointed out a tawny-capped euphonia. The guide looked along D’s outstretched arm and quiet-screamed, “Umbrella!” There he was, a magnificent male, sitting calmly among the mayhem of the mixed flock, not oblivious to the cacophony around him, but seeming to be above it all. Had it not been for the mixed flock, D and the guide would have surely missed him again. D snapped a couple of proof-of-life pics, then maneuvered in for a better shot, climbing along a tree root to find a break in the canopy that perfectly framed this rare and magnificent bird. Thankfully, the bird sat in its spot for a good ten minutes before taking off on strong, quiet wings and settling higher up in the canopy.

Mission accomplished, D and the guide headed back, emerging out of the woods to find the rest of the other birders still milling around the parking area. D meant to head straight home, but wound up spending another half-hour birding within a few feet of his car. After spending several hours deep in the woods, birding the relatively open forest edge areas yielded a tremendous number of some of D’s favorite species: three kinds of toucans, two different trogon species, a couple of flycatchers, and several colorful hummingbirds. All in all, there was quite a lot to be thankful for. 

Pictured from top to bottom: slaty-tailed trogon; collared aracari; keel-billed toucan; great potoo; red-capped manakin; spectacled owls; red-throated ant-tanager; bare-necked umbrellabird.