Veracruz 2008: The Xalapa Highlands

Sunday morning was chilly and dark when Robert picked Tamie and me up at our hotel, but the reward for early rising was the sight of sunrise over Xalapa, with forested Macuiltepetl rising up out of the heart of the city.

By the time we reached the oak and pine forests of La Joya, it had started to mist and my teva-clad toes had started to tingle, but our walk through the woods produced a few birds in spite of the weather, among them Slate-throated Whitestart, Cassin’s Vireo, Hermit Warbler, Spot-crowned Woodcreeper, and Brown Creeper, for a truly odd mixture. A couple of male Red Crossbills paused briefly for scope views; their deep voices and long, slender bills should make them identifiable to “type” once I find time to consult the AMNH crossbills page.

Not far away is the dramatic canyon landscape of Las Minas–or so I’m told. The fog was so dense and the mist so heavy by the time we got up there that we could barely see the side of the road; but that turned out to be enough. An undistinguished looking overgrown field gave us a score of Striped Sparrows and a small flock of Audubon’s Warblers and Chipping Sparrows; it was here, too, that we saw our only Vermilion Flycatchers and a lone Cassin’s Kingbird, huddled against the cold.

The landscape was dazzling in the dim light and rain, romantic and mysterious like the paramo or the prairie in winter. We continued into an area of scattered pines with dense undergrowth, and as we sorted through a flock of Hermit and Townsend’s Warblers and tried to gather resolve enough to get out of the car, Robert gave a shout: Red Warbler! It was in sight for only a moment, but there’s no mistaking that handsome creature with its silver cheeks. The experience was enough to get us out into the rain, but we didn’t run across the flock again, and so continued, down to the low point of the road and up, up, up the other side past slopes flowing with water and draped with lush greenery.

We were far past the point where any bus would have had to surrender to the acuteness of the turns, and stopped at a patch of flowers to look for hummingbirds. A male White-eared Hummingbird was a nice sight, and I had my best looks ever at Gray-breasted Wood-Wren while others sang from the impenetrable foliage. And then, again, a flash of bright color, and another Red Warbler moved in to work the shrubs, occasionally turning to face us head on, those glinting cheek patches ever so slightly puffed out, like fallen stars. Two in a day, of a bird I’d never expected to see in my life.

We looked at our watches and discovered that if we hastened back down the mountain, we’d have time to look quickly at Xalapa’s Parque Natura, a large preserve literally across the street from the conference hotel and one of the best sites around for the endemic Hooded Yellowthroat. We didn’t find any yellowthroats on our quick visit, but it was a delightful place to end a too-short visit to Xalapa.

It was warm (especially compared to Las Minas, some 2,500 feet higher) and fairly busy on a Sunday afternoon, but even without many birds, this large park offered some beautiful sights. Orchids grow out of the trees:

And some downright baroque insects creep around, waiting to be admired, if not necessarily identified:

I’m generally happy just to have seen most invertebrates, but occasionally there are those that I feel driven to attach a name too, like this incredibly frilly caterpillar:

What on earth is it? It was most decidedly and frantically alive, by the way, in spite of its grotesque squashed-on-the-sidewalk appearance.

Another look at our watches and it was time: we stopped by Robert’s store, then tried and failed to return the rental car (Kangarou rentals in Xalapa was quite trusting), and then it was off to the bus station for our ride to Veracruz for the night–again, downright luxurious, cheap, and with more legroom than any number of first-class airplane seats.  A short night, a short taxi ride, and on to Houston, thence to Tucson, and now a year to look forward to returning to Veracruz in autumn.