After the Roundtable, we broke up into smaller groups and scattered to the Guatemalan winds. My genial gang–three Americans and three Nicaraguans–headed for the Pacific Coast, where birds were not as abundant as in the Peten, but decidedly different. I was still sick the night we arrived in Monterrico, and slept steadfastly through the early-morning knock on my door announcing the first birding at our new site.

But I didn’t sleep long. A loud whistled song with an incisive cadence finally roused me, and I stumbled outside to find a derelict palm grove where the ground was covered with Ruddy Ground-Doves (bright ones, always a pleasure to those of us used to the grayish birds of the northwest). And the author of my wake-up call didn’t hide out for long.

A big, bold, bright Campylorhynchus, quickly identified as the rufous-backed race of Rufous-naped Wren. They fed in pairs and trios high in the palms and close to the ground, occasionally chattering and constantly singing their bright, un-Cactus-Wren-like carol.

Like so many wrens, this species appears to have sworn an oath never to reveal all of its person at once,  but in composite, this is one handsome bird. The tail pattern is striking enough from above, dazzling from beneath, when the snowy undertail sets off the dramatic bars and huge white tips of the rectrices.

I chose not to take this guy’s posture as addressed specifically to me.

I was awake then, and felt good enough to stagger across the road to the Pacific, whose massive waves breaking on the beach had made my night even more restless than it would have been in a more quiet setting. The black sand beaches hosted no shorebirds, and out over the water were just a few Royal and Caspian Terns and the odd Laughing Gull. Better birding would have to wait for our boat trips on fresh water.

Tikal really is one of a kind, and it was hard to spend only half a day there this time–particularly since I’d succumbed to a minor ailment and wasn’t able to appreciate everything as much as I might have done in the full blossom of valetude.

But even for the puny, Tikal’s birds are something else. Orange-breasted Falcon took the prize, of course, but a Great Currasow incubating eggs on a nest 15 feet up in a tree was a sight I’d never expected to see. Many of the parrot species we’d seen flash across the sky in the days preceding perched unconcerned at close range at Tikal, including Brown-hooded, a life psittacid for me. And Baltimore Orioles and Rose-breasted Grosbeaks met the nostalgia quota for a midwestern boy.

Pace our incredible experiences with the falcons, I most enjoyed some quiet minutes with Mark at a small pool near the restaurant. Others had seen a Ruddy Crake in the morning, while I lingered behind to watch the earth spin; I couldn’t find the crake, but there was plenty else to admire. A Limpkin fed and preened unconcerned just a few feet from us.

Just behind was a Bare-throated Tiger-Heron, probably my favorite of all the ardeids I’ve managed to see (and a great subject for a trivia question, come to think of it–I’ll put it in my next newsletter).

A fine little American Pygmy-Kingfisher was actively hunting the pond, too, perching for seconds at a time on the twigs behind the Limpkin. And the mad genius loci of Tikal, Gray-necked Wood-Rail, was around every bend and behind every clump of water hyacinth.

I know what I’m going to be next Halloween.

‘Twould be the crassest sort of namedropping to list everyone in attendance at this year’s Roundtable, but it was wonderful to see so many old friends and to meet so many new, including more than a few names I’d long admired.

WINGS was well and ably represented: of the 6 afternoon lectures, we gave 3. Bryan Bland, in his irresistibly engaging way, presented a talk on the symbolic meanings of birds over the ages (which fit very well with a later lecture on bird imagery in Mayan textiles). Steve Howell, who wrote the book, as they say, gave a characteristically modest and characteristically fascinating account of his adventures in writing the Guide (and signed more than a few autographs afterwards). And I followed with a grouchy plaidoyer for reading birdbooks and not just using them; at least I thought it was grouchy, but I was very happy with the thoughtful questions and responses it drew.

That’s my kind of birding: good birds, good birders, and great conversation!

There really is no place like Tikal for a powerful experience of nature and culture all at once. The ruins are stunning, and I was fortunate this time to see them with an excellent Maya guide, Julio. And the birds!

Ocellated Turkeys were common and confiding, as usual, their blue and yellow heads as striking as the incredible gloss of their plumage.

We were also fortunate to have great looks at a Crested Guan just outside of Mundo Perdido (aptly enough, the only place I ended up lost and alone all week!).

But one bird in particular came to represent the very intersection past and present, human and natural. I’d missed them on my last visit, but this time we had success beyond hope. Hardly had we arrived at the grand plaza when we heard the whining chant of a large falcon, and a male Orange-breasted Falcon flew in with prey, landing in a bare tree next to Temple II. After much shrieking, the female flew out to take his perch; the male entered the temple, then flew back out with the prey still in his feet.

Then, in one of the most dazzling flight displays I’d ever seen, the prey item was passed to the female’s feet–and the male immediately stooped on a passing Red-lored Parrot. The parrot got away, but not without what must have been the start of a lifetime.

For the better part of an hour we watched the pair flying around the temple, occasionally pausing for long stretches to call from “their” dead snags. After he’d passed the food to his mate, the male spent considerable time cleaning gore from his huge toes and neatly hooked bill.

And all this while hundreds of tourists from around the world climbed the temple to admire the work of a long-past millennium. Tikal!

The Fourth Guatemalan Birdwatching Roundtable brought birders from around the world to Peten, the country’s northernmost department and the site of some fantastic birding. But it isn’t just birders and other nature-types who lick their chops at the thought of northern Guatemala; this region is also the site of some of the most awe-inspiring ruins in the world, Old or New.

This hot lava was flowing slowly down the slopes of the Pacaya Volcano; there were three more active volcanoes in sight, one of them erupting spectacularly every few minutes.