Thank you, Fiona! (And her new Peterson guide is outstanding, by the way, for which thanks as well.)

This Crimson-crested Woodpecker was the female of a pair we found the first day in the Metropolitan Park. In the course of the trip, we also got to see Lineated and Cinnamon Woodpeckers, along with an Olivaceous Piculet at the Ammo Dump; the most abundant picid, though, with us almost always, was Red-crowned Woodpecker, a diminutive Melanerpes with a loud voice and a boisterous manner.

Blue-and-white Swallows were common at higher elevations, nesting under the eaves at Los Quetzales. Gray-breasted Martin was found just about everywhere, and we got great looks at Southern Rough-winged Swallows a few times. Barn Swallows were a nice surprise at a couple of places, too.

I’ve always loved Tropical Kingbirds, ever since the first one Alison and I ever saw, years ago in Texas. I like this “action shot” because it shows the tail color so well, and because the bird, the palms, and the barbed wire say so much about the relation between humans and nature in the former Canal Zone, where I took this picture.

Roadside Hawk: what can I say? As usual, I found the relative scarcity (or at least the difficulty of finding) raptors in the tropics disconcerting, but we could almost always count on good views of a Roadside Hawk as we moved between sites. They were usually perched on the, uh, roadside.

As were Smooth-billed Anis.

We eventually scored 100% on Crotophaga cuckoos, finding Greater Anis at the Ammo Dump and a couple of Groove-billed Anis on our way to the airport the last morning.

Drop me an e-mail if you want any more information about the sites we visited or the birds we saw. See you in Panama, next time!

We did a little birding on the way to the airport (which is quite close to the Cerro, making Casa de Campo an outstanding layover destination for international travelers). Unfortunately, the rain began just as we approached the area Luis said was most reliable for Savanna Hawk, but we did find a nice assembly of Neotropic Cormorants and Snowy Egrets in a ditch.

And then began the wait, and with it the tense question: Which will be my last Panama bird? By carefully positioning myself at the correct window, and shutting my eyes for long periods, I managed to make it a good one.

Farewell, Gray-breasted Martins!

The beginnings of the rainy season turned out to be a perfect time to visit, too. Over breakfast on the terraces, we could watch Crimson-backed Tanagers and Black-striped Sparrows feeding their young, while both Buff-throated and Streaked Saltators were busy singing from the tops of the trees. Rufous-tailed and Snowy-bellied Hummingbirds competed with Bananaquits for nectar, and Golden-hooded and Blue-gray Tanagers were everywhere.

Sooner or later, of course, you have to leave even the birdiest of yards (and the tastiest of breakfasts!) for localities farther afield. Cerro Jefe is a beautiful place, high and commanding, with birds worthy of the setting. A male Black-and-yellow Tanager was a stunner, and an odd popping call turned out to be a lutea-type Hepatic Tanager, sounding nothing like our familiar northern birds.

Sierra Llorona Lodge has a beautiful series of trails behind it, and we couldn’t resist heading down one of them before breakfast. White-tailed Trogons, which we’d heard along Old Gamboa Road, sang but refused steadfastly to let themselves be seen; suppose I’ll just have to go back someday….

At one point we were watching a Squirrel Cuckoo moving through the foliage, when a feathered form flashed in to land above our heads. A quick look at that median throat-stripe and it was obvious what it was.

The bird was utterly unconcerned at having landed on top of us, and perched long enough for all of us to admire the first juvenile Double-toothed Kite I’d ever seen, and the only member of the species we would see in Panama.

Breakfast called, the delicious spread we’d come to expect on our tour; but still we hurried, wanting to have a little time along the well-wooded entrance road before we had to leave. And I’m glad we did. A Black-breasted Puffbird perched unmoving above us, immediately propelling Sierra Llorona to the top of my world’s-best-driveways list!

 

 

Common Tody-Flycatchers were attending a nest above one of the nicely sheltered benches, and as soon as the rain let up a little, Rufous-capped Warblers and Black-striped Sparrows came in to the bird baths to splash around. Tropical Kingbirds and Social Flycatchers occupied the wires as raindrops permitted, and Barred Antshrikes, every bit as crazed as I’d expected them to be, were singing and carrying on.

We did make one sortie into the weather, to visit the Gaital Nature Preserve. Swallow-tailed Kites were common overhead, and though birds were hard to see in the dense vegetation, we eventually enjoyed great looks at a number of Tawny-crested Tanagers. This wasn’t a species I’d been particularly eager to see, but happily the bird “didn’t look like its pictures in the birdy book,” instead a very lovely creature with a bright golden crown.

 

That smudgy form is a Great Potoo, well and aptly named. Luis told us that the locals believe that the bird’s nocturnal singing emanates from the mouth of a witch, and watching this strange beast snooze away, I wondered if perhaps they weren’t right.

Pipeline Road, easily the best-known birding location in the entire country, is a quick drive from the Albrook Inn, and though Yenia and Luis found the morning disappointing, I thought we had great luck. My favorites were a pair of White-whiskered Puffbirds down one of the streams, the male posing stolidly at close range for the whole time we watched him.

We had a long wait at the Gatun locks, but, as birders will, found plenty of ways to amuse ourselves. Black iguanas were on the roadside, and a fine colony of Gray-breasted Martins gave me my best views of that species ever. Tropical Kingbirds and Tropical Mockingbirds were joined by a pair of Saffron Finches, beautiful birds but, alas, introduced.

Luis had chosen a route that might give us two of my most-wanteds, and as usual, he did not disappoint. After a pause for an Osprey and a Tricolored Heron, we wound up looking out over a close-cropped field occupied by two Southern Lapwings.

Not only are they stunning in themselves, but the species is rapidly, explosively, spreading north, with recent sightings from Florida to Maryland, and it’s great to be prepared.

And my other desideratum showed up soon thereafter. For literally decades, I have dreamed of Red-breasted Blackbirds. We ended up seeing a good dozen males, and glimpsing a couple of females, out in the tall grass, and enjoyed listening to their thin buzzy songs. My childhood reading made this bird the representative of the tropics, and to see it, finally, made my day.

But there was more to come. Old Gamboa Road is a spectacular place, though it was our first real experience of horrible humidity and abundant mosquitoes. But the birding distracted us nicely, at least until it started to pour rain on us.

We lingered at the Summit Ponds, where Lesser Kiskadees and a Green Kingfisher hunted over the waters occupied by a Capped Heron. Blue-crowned Motmots were obviously breeding nearby, as they kept flying out over the water and perching on the shady edge; we never succeeded in keeping track of them as they delivered their prey, however.

I was watching a Southern Rough-winged Swallow when my eye caught a slow movement on the opposite bank, under a thick growth of palms: Could it be…?

It was! An adult Agami Heron, slowly stalking under the vegetation, its chestnut belly aglow and that incredible bill inscribing vast semicircles when it moved its white-crested head. Too far away for pictures of the photographic type, but that is one image burned into our minds forever.

It started with a fine Yellow-headed Caracara on the roadside, a species I’d first seen the day before over Los Quetzales. This one was obviously interested in the highway carnage of the night before, and simply flew up into the low vegetation when we stopped to admire it.

The Ammo Dump, a series of small ponds near the Canal, was a revelation.

Wily and elusive Wattled Jacanas wandered around at our feet, and both Green and Striated Herons were out in the marsh. An adult Rufescent Tiger-Heron flushed from the roadside and led us to a well-concealed stick nest, where a juvenile perched, teetering, on the edge. All of this took place under the weirdly watchful eyes of Greater Anis.

It had rained a bit early that morning, so there was lots of bathing and preening going on. Rusty-margined Flycatchers, wet and bedraggled, perched up close and obligingly revealed their wing-edgings, just in case there was any doubt.

And it went on and on, a new bird a minute. The biggest shock, one that left me so dumbfounded as to forget to use my camera, was a White-throated Crake blithely wandering across the road in front of our vehicle. It’s all about timing and luck, of course, but ours was right on that day!

Though we were on the Panama La Verde birding circuit, new and interesting creatures of fur appeared regularly all week long. I was especially delighted to see 3 species of monkeys. Howlers were noisy and visible at many lowland sites, and we saw rufous-naped tamarins several times. Most abundant of all, though, were the elegant white-faced capuchins, moving noisily through the trees in groups, staring disconcertingly back when we admired their grace.

There were squirrels in the trees, too. Large ones included red-tailed squirrel and variegated squirrel, while pygmy squirrels munched happily away at the bird feeders at Los Quetzales, looking like, well, squirrel pygmies.

But the strangest sight of all up in the canopy was the occasional unkempt ball of scraggly fur, moving slowly or not at all. Sloths! We ran into both two-toed and three-toed sloths several times, and couldn’t help staring at these thoroughly foreign creatures. Gradually I came to like them a lot, a sympathy founded, no doubt, in our shared love of long naps in the shade.

This guy was a little more active than average.

One of our cutest mammals was also one of the most mysterious. At the upper cabins of Los Quetzales, we saw a fist-sized rodent peeking out from under one of the patio benches, waiting patiently for its turn at the seed.

I’ll send this photo on to Luiz for identification, but any suggestions meanwhile?

Naturally we had to admire the Resplendant Quetzals, which nest right along the trail and can be seen easily: once, that is, you have your eye in and no longer overlook the males’ long trains as waving fronds!

The cabins themselves host innumerable hummingbirds at the feeders, including Magnificent Hummingbird, Stripe-tailed Hummingbird, Violet Sabrewing, White-throated Mountain-Gem, and a real specialty, Green-fronted Lancebill, which actually nests under the eaves of one of the cabins.  That’s the one I’m going to stay in on my next visit.

For all the sparkle and color of the quetzals and the hummingbirds, I most enjoyed the granivores on the patio, shy at first, gradually more trusting as we ate our lunch and watched them consuming theirs. Most common and most easily seen were the Yellow-thighed Finches, friendly and comical little fellows wearing chartreuse pants.

Rufous-capped Brush-Finches were feeding young, or rather teaching them to feed themselves.

And every once in a while, a shy little Slaty Finch, another hard-to-find specialty that is more or less guaranteed at Los Quetzales, would wander in and scoop up a little grain.

Most fascinating of all, though, was a bird I’d expected to be just clunky and dull, a bit like its awkward name. But the Large-footed Finch, its name and the lousy illustration in the field guide to the contrary, turned out to be one of my favorite birds of the entire trip. The patterns are intricate and lovely, with orange scalloping on the breast and a discreet black-on-gray on the crown. The feet are big, I admit. But then again, so are mine.