A Cousin to the Ivorybill

Head of pale-billed woodpecker. Tikal, Guatemala.

When Jules and I were in Guatemala last month, we spent the final two days of our trip in Tikal, the famous Maya site where the pyramids are impressive and the birding is justifiably world famous. Among my quest birds on our trip was the pale-billed woodpecker, cousin to the ivory-billed woodpecker in the genus Campephilus. I figured that this might be as close as I would ever get to an ivory-billed woodpecker, though I hoped (and still do hope) to see a one someday.

In 2004 in Guatemala I had heard the distinctive double rap of the pale-billed, but no birds showed themselves. This year we were spending a lot more time in likely habitat, and several times our Guatemalan birding guides would point out the double-rap. My hopes were rising with each aural encounter.

Late on the afternoon of March 4, our first day at Tikal, we were looking across a large ravine toward Temple 5, scanning its shape for signs of an orange-breasted falcon nest, when three large birds flew across a clearing and into some gangly, tall trees. "Pale-billed woodpeckers!" Julie shouted and we all scrambled to gain better viewing angles. The light was low due to an oncoming thunderstorm, but occasional rays of sun forced their way through the darkening sky, illuminating the scene for us. I'll never forget the gleaming white bill and blindingly bright red crest on the first bird I located with my scope.

The three birds seemed to be associated with each other (perhaps a family group?) as they foraged and loafed. For the next 15 minutes we enjoyed leisurely looks at one or more of them and I did my best to capture their souls with my digiscoping set up.

Most of my pale-billed woodpecker shots came out like this: blurry images of busy birds.

To be standing there, in Tikal, with an ancient temple, old growth forest, and one of the most impressive and evocative birds in all of the Americas in one binocular field was nothing short of incredible. Julie and I kept saying "They look so much like ivorybills!"

This one is my favorite because of the crest. I've never seen a crest like this on a bird!

I shot and shot, getting mostly blurry images of moving birds, with perfectly in-focus branches and vegetation. The shooting conditions were tough. Even so, I could not help but think how great it would be to encounter an ivorybill (or three) in the same fashion, under similar conditions. Perhaps one day....

Here, for your viewing pleasure are the least objectionable of my pale-billed woodpecker shots. I took them through a Swarovski 65 AT spotting scope with a 20x to 60x zoom lens. My camera was (and still is a Canon Powershot A520 (4 megapixels) attached with a Canon LA-DC52F extender and a Swarovski DCA (digital camera adapter).

Check out the belly stripes and the bird's regal eye.

Not very sharp, but I love the lines in this photo. And that beautiful bill.

I must tip my cap to Clay Taylor of Swarovski Optik, North America for his helpful and sage guidance as I re-entered the digiscoping realm. My experience in Guatemala would have been so much less enjoyable if I had not been geared-up for digiscoping. Thanks Clay! You can check out some of Clay's own digiscoped images here.

And we also owe a debt of gratitude to Marco Centeno and Hector Castaneda for traveling to Tikal with us, and sharing their vast birding and nature knowledge. Gracias por los aves y las bromas, amigos!

This shot shows how massive the feet are on these woodpeckers.
Look how it's grasping the tree, and the spread of those toes!
You know what they say about big feet!

My Life as a Dog

If I could be a dog, I would be Chet Baker, our Boston terrier. Why? Well let me tell you why...

• Because he is at the top of the affection totem pole at our house. It goes Chet, kids, Charles the macaw, orchids, other plants, any rehab birds we have, baby turtles, fish in tank, favorite garden clippers, and that tall guy that's here sometimes.
  
• Everything he does elicits peals of laughter from my fellow residents of Indigo Hill. The last time I puked on the kitchen floor, I don't remember anyone even cracking a smile.
  
• He can roll in turkey....um... droppings, and still get hugs. If I have a 5-o'clock shadow at the end of the day (and I always do) my kids run screaming. Wifeypoo, too.
• Sleeping all day is, somehow and incredibly, considered his job.
• He gets to lick dishes clean, then walk away leaving them on the floor.
• He can jump at least 4x his height. If he could hold a basketball, he'd be a millionaire!
• He walks around our yard and pees on stuff....oh wait, nevermind that one...

As far as I can tell, the only reason NOT to be Chet Baker is that he no longer possesses his complete "wedding tackle." Though this does not seem to dampen his enthusiasm in the least.

Don't get me wrong. Me Love Chet! Me also ENVY Chet!
I am just saying, in the words of Will Smith: "Day-am!"

For the real inside poop on Chet Baker, the luckiest dog in the world, visit the blog of Julie, president-for-life of the Chet Baker, Boston Terrier Fan Club.

Making the Rounds

Julie and Phoebe check a nearly complete nest at the end of our meadow.

Here at Indigo Hill this evening, while enjoying the benefit of an extra hour of daylight, Julie, Phoebe and I walked our bluebird trails to see what nest-building has started in our boxes. This is one of our many spring rituals (woodcock watching, spotting the first daffodil, burning the Christmas tree and dancing and howling around it, you know, the usual spring stuff).

We first headed out the driveway to re-hang the PVC baffle on a box with a full nest (but no eggs). Of course having walked the quarter-mile out our driveway, we did not have all the necessary tools with us. So while Julie and Chet went back for the equipment, I stood under the giant oak tree at the end of our drive, and pondered my day. The late-afternoon sun shining on this old tree cast an incredible shadow into the neighboring pasture. And though the air was cold and the wind was a bully, it was a nice 15 minutes alone, just breathing and watching the clouds float on their invisible paths.

Oak shadow on pasture as clouds float on to the eastward.

Baffle fixed, we headed back up the drive to check out other boxes. Passing back through the yard, we took note of the many buds that Sunday's warm sun had coaxed forth. Our forsythia, perhaps the only large plant left over from the previous owners, is in its full yellow glory. Looking at it just makes me happy. I hope the cardinals nest in there again this summer.

We have not forsaken this old forsythia.

Our volunteer peach tree, growing too near the fire circle, is also showing nicely. If I were a bee this is the first blooming tree I'd visit. It's just so lovely and alluring.

A peach pit tossed into our fire circle grew into a tree that gives us these flowers each spring.

Heading out the lower meadow path, we were shocked to find that bluebird nest building has been started or even completed in several boxes--including a couple that had gone unclaimed in years past. Could it be that our efforts to help bluebirds are paying durable dividends? If all of these boxes get nesting pairs we'll have an early spring record--9 pairs--on our hands.

Phoebe loves seeing the nest contents. These eggs were still cold because the female bluebird does not start incubating until the clutch is complete.

Julie dutifully recorded the data for each nest box and we repaired baffled, tightened screws on door latches, and clipped encroaching vines and saplings from the pole bases. We don't want a snake or raccoon to get a head start in trying to get past our predator baffles. There's nothing more upsetting for a nestbox landlord than to find one of your boxes emptied out by a predator. These early spring broods are risky weatherwise, but they can fledge young well before the raccoons and black rat snakes are awake and tuned in to the tasty contents of our nesting boxes.

Our mid-orchard box, the one next to our sweat lodge site, was not fully checked. As we approached it a downy woodpecker stuck his head out of the entry hole. He's been roosting in that box all winter, so we're sure there's no bluebird nest in it yet. We left him in peace. And we stood for a spell watching through the poplar grove as the western horizon burned with the sunset's final throes.

Sleeping inside this nest box, the downy woodpecker missed the beautiful sunset this evening. You snooze, you lose!