Sharing Birding Contest Third Place Winner
Clutching my almost brand-new binoculars, I slipped down the porch steps to join the trio on the drive. A sister, a cousin, an aunt—what a perfect set for spotting birds!
We turned left at the end of the lane. The day glittered with hope, a day to spend with family—my parents and siblings here in Guatemala, my grandma and an aunt from Ohio, and another aunt and her family from Ontario. The activities were starting by birding before breakfast; later we would tour the Philadelphia coffee finca (farm), and then eat lunch at a hummingbird reserve! Of course, birds should be twittering and chirping at every turn! And by going to the coffee farm and bird reserve, we would drop altitude, giving us a little different selection of birds than the ones we see here at 6,000 feet above sea level!
Great-tailed Grackles flew over the field to our right. As we turned onto the path that led through fields, a small coffee patch, and a cool woods, we heard the squawks of a parrot flying above. Sure enough, the Green Parakeet soon perched in the tip of a silky oak.
We stepped on down the path, coffee branches bowing on either side. Coming to a clearing, Aunt Joy spied movement in the top of a sprawling tree. We stopped to investigate.
The more we searched, the more we saw; and the more we saw, the more we searched! Lesser Goldfinches bounced from branch to branch. Townsend’s Warblers dodged behind boughs, then popped out again. Acorn Woodpeckers swooped up to a huge pine. In a cluster of branches scrapped Band-backed Wrens.
Suddenly, “Which-ear! Which-ear!” came the whistle from a Melodious Blackbird. It had to be in one of those silky oaks! Remembering that Aunt Joy had wondered about this song when she’d heard it before, we pointed out the bird.
Steller’s Jays flapped across the field, squawking. I spotted a Rufous-collared Robin perching quietly.
“Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho,…”
I half-heard Glenda speaking to Aunt Joy and Cousin Colleen beside me. But when I heard the word pygmy-owl, I whirled around. Yes, she had heard a Northern Pygmy-owl! I’d heard pygmy-owls before, but I wanted to hear it again! We listened carefully and were soon rewarded with a string of hoots.
Too soon, Aunt Joy mentioned going home because the breakfast hour was approaching. But instead, someone distracted us by excitedly pointing out another bird—that promptly disappeared! A few of us had not seen it, so detailed instructions were given. Down the pine tree from the branch where we’d seen the woodpecker, into the sapling beside it, and over into a spreading clump of leaves and branches. We watched and wondered while the ones who’d seen it described it. Dark blue above, with a white belly. What! Could it actually be a Blue-and-white Mockingbird, the mockingbird that almost always sees you before you see it?
And suddenly, there it was again! Glenda shot pictures of it, and the rest of us studied it for the few moments before it flew into the seclusion of the tree boughs. Sure enough, a Blue-and-white Mockingbird! Then, in the same tree, another one appeared! It, too, hid itself quickly.
We headed back the way we’d come, amazed that we’d actually seen two of those shy mockingbirds this close home!
Suddenly up ahead I noticed something that appeared to be perching on a dried-up cornstalk. I whipped up my binoculars. Aw, it was just that—corn. But there was another something on a different stalk! And this time it was a Tropical Mockingbird! Almost immediately it dove out of sight. A split second later, another one perched on the stalk, then dove after the first!
Surprised, I alerted the others. They scanned the field with me. Then Aunt Joy noted the same stalk I had! But still, it was only her imagination.
In good spirits, we entered the house and shared our stories over our breakfast casserole. Then we tucked the birds away for a while as we rushed around preparing to leave for the coffee finca. But Aunt Joy was hanging up wash while the Green Parakeet squawked in the neighboring trees, so out I went with the binoculars so she could get a better look than the peek she’d had earlier that morning.
Most of us left for the coffee finca soon after breakfast. A good while later we arrived and arranged our tour.
We strolled past young coffee plants and sucked the pulpy beans from some berries the tour guide picked for us. We walked through the bean washing area and out onto the concrete drying floors. Then our guide handed out hair nets, and we toured the roasting, grinding, and packaging building. The warm coffee aroma from that morning’s roasting still hung in the air. Finally, our guide treated us each to a tasty cup of R. Dalton coffee.
With souvenirs in hand, coffee lingering in the corners of our mouths, and a whole new album of memories on minds’ shelves, we departed for the hummingbird reserve. Others of my family would meet us there.
We arrived first, parked, and walked up to the hummingbird feeders. Hummingbirds soon began to appear, zipping in under the long narrow roof to sip nectar from the row of feeders.
We soon noticed a certain kind of hummingbird which appeared repeatedly. Aunt Joy and I shared tidbits of information from the bird book and took turns looking through the binoculars. We narrowed down the options and landed on the Rufous Sabrewing. Yet the bird book called it rare, so I didn’t want to be too sure of my opinion. However, one of my sisters reminded me that this place did have rare birds!
When my birder brother Lawrence appeared, he soon agreed that it was a Rufous Sabrewing.
Lunch was set out in the pavilion up the path from the feeders. We dug into the barbecue chicken sandwiches, carrot JELL-O®, chips, bars, and soft drinks.
After a while, some of us returned to view the feeders. We again called Lawrence down to help us identify some species. Several hummingbirds perched high in a scraggly tree for long minutes. One was an Azure-crowned Hummingbird—a kind we’ve seen at our feeder at home. Another was the Violet Sabrewing. Meanwhile hummingbirds continued buzzing in and out and about.
Aunt Joy kept exclaiming about the air plants, the huge air plants, the many air plants, and the blooming air plants! Someone found a glob of frog eggs in the stream, as well as a frog, which intrigued the children.
Then up the steep bank behind us, someone heard scratching and saw movement. Glenda caught a glimpse of a speckled bird that hid itself again almost instantly. We turned our focus from the hummingbirds to the bird rooting through leaves behind us.
Some of the younger children got permission to hike up the trail a bit before leaving. I debated going along, but decided to stay in case we would get a peek at the mystery bird. After all, how many birds would a person see with a group of skipping, jabbering children and a few adults hurrying after them to keep them straight? But my brother Edwin encouraged me to go, just in case I would see something. So I went.
Somewhere I pulled ahead of the others and slipped forward quickly but quietly. Suddenly the path narrowed to a passageway with dirt walls higher than my head on either side, then a great fallen tree that arched over part of it. I followed the path through it, eyes alert for anything around the corner.
There! A movement, and a bird! A split second, and it was gone! But the image had been stamped in my mind. A red head, red-orange belly, and slate over practically everything else. As we finished our little hike, two names were running through my head—Ruby-crowned Kinglet and Slate-throated Redstart. I described it to Lawrence, and he instantly proclaimed it the Slate-throated Redstart. How exciting to see a bird I had never remembered seeing before!
Those searching for the mystery bird reported little success. Now I was doubly glad I had taken my chance and gone hiking!
I wished we could stay longer and keep birding for a while, but we did have to get home.
On the way, an idea sprouted among us girls—let’s go birding out back when we get home! So it was that several of us headed out the dirt road beside our place. We paused at a field. Little birds bounced in the field and the hedgerow. We spotted a flycatcher, probably a Dusky-capped, sitting in a tree out across the plain. As we walked on, four Band-backed Wrens swooped up to a sapling beside the road. A small dark bird in the top of a pine tree looked suspiciously like a Black Phoebe.
To top it off, why not go check for the nighthawks yet after dark? So after supper, we girls clambered onto the back of the pickup, and, with Edwin as our chauffeur, drove down the road once again.
We kept our eyes open for the little red “lights” on the road, which are actually the eyes of a nighthawk reflecting the headlight. But it seemed that every glitter was simply a trashy chip bag lying by the road. We saw no nighthawks.
After turning around in an empty field, we bumped over ruts on the way home. For one last attempt, we stopped by the woods and shut off the pickup. Would we hear an owl yet? The night wrapped our pickup in silence as we waited, listening intently. But at last Edwin turned the key and the truck purred to life.
No, we hadn’t seen the nighthawks or heard an owl. Several mystery birds did disappear before we could note enough markings to identify them. Most of us took our turn at being too late to see the bird that “all the rest” saw.
But none of us missed the memories!