Author: Rick Wright

Herons and egrets are always a bonus on any trip to the Neotropics; two species in particular were among my favorites on my November visit to Guyana. Both are closely related to familiar North American species, both, though, stunning in their own distinctive ways.

Striated Heron is the southern counterpart of “our” Green Heron, and in fact the two have been considered conspecific at various times. Striated, which occurs in widely in both the Old World and New World tropics, differs from Green Heron in adult plumage by, most notably, the neck color: rich chestnut in Green, lovely dove-gray in Striated. The juveniles are much more similar, as I would discover to my dismay in Panama a few weeks later….

Cocoi Heron, known alternatively (and preferably, to my mind) as “White-necked Heron” is a large and gangly Ardea, a congener of such familiar northern species as Great Blue and Gray Herons. I’d never seen this species until my Guyana trip, and was delighted to find it common along the large rivers we visited. It is superficially similar to Great Blue, as expected, but the neck and bill are longer and the plumage, of course, much whiter, without the rufous highlights of its northern counterpart; notice, too, the lovely head pattern, with the black cap coming down low on the cheek setting off the whitish supraloral.

The photo shows a typical view of the bird half-concealed in the foliage; I don’t think I ever saw the entire bird at once except in flight!

There’s something fascinatingly prehistoric about storks, and Guyana offers a good selection of these huge wading birds.

We did not find the ominously decreasing Maguari, but Wood Storks were common and readily found, looking like pterodactyls as they flew over us everywhere from urban parks to wilderness swamps.

(This picture is especially for Alex, who discovered and sketched a Wood Stork in Nebraska, of all places, last year!)

The other stork species, Jabiru, was, of course, much less common, but we managed to see this amazing bird on several days. The closest views were to be had early in the morning on the airstrip at Karanambu, where one or two could be found stalking through the grass in the fog when we arose.

Like King Vultures, Jabirus were easy to pick out from the small planes we took between destinations; but the most exciting views were of a pair on a nest.

Like the apparently reliable Crimson Fruitcrows just outside of Iwokrama, these birds could prove a real boon to ornithotourism in Guyana. Local guides take note!

We had several opportunities to see another spectacular cotinga, the Guianan Cock-of-the-Rock. Not only is this one of the most startlingly colored birds in the world, but it inhabits some of the most beautiful scenery anywhere; even had we missed the bird, the short hike in to our first site, on the Prince Charles Trail, would have been well worth it.

Moss-clad rocks and shady clefts are this species’ preferred habitat; their fondness for rocks extends even to the placement of their well-camouflaged nests, a large mud jug on a vertical cave wall. This one had been inactive for some time, we were told, but seemed still quite usable.

And just around the corner we found a product of this nest, a bright male glowing in the low shady bushes, his strange crest curled forward to cover the bill.

Like the male we would see a couple of days later at Kaietur Falls, this bird remained silent, leaving us all good excuse to return during the lekking season.