As the parrot flies, our lodge in the Pantanal, near Miranda, was about 900 miles (1450km) from Teresópolis, the nearest large town to our previous location in the Atlantic Forest. We caught the 6am flight from Rio to Sao Paulo and the 9am flight to Campo Grande, just south of the Pantanal. At the airport our group was met by a smart small coach from Caiman Lodge. We nestled into the seats, appreciating the luxury for the four-hour drive on an almost straight, flat road, flanked by palm trees, past one fazenda after another where white cattle grazed peacefully, contained by fences of short pale posts. Enthusiastic cries heralded sightings of shaggy-plumaged Greater Rheas and showy Toco Toucans.
At last a sign read Refugio Ecologico Caiman 30km. We were getting close! A painted sign indicated we had arrived. We turned right off the main road and reached the main lodge – but we were not there yet. We drove on a few more kilometres and finally came to a halt outside Pousada Baiazinha. Shaded by palm trees and a large ____________________________________________________________
The Pantanal
This is the world’s largest freshwater wetland, a mosaic
of savannah, lagoons, swamps and forest. It extends over
an area of 54,000 sq miles (140,000 sq km) in southern
Brazil, in the states ofMato Grosso and Mato Grosso do
Sul,with its borders reaching into Paraguay and Bolivia.
Two-thirds of this region is flooded annually, from about
December to May. For 200 years huge cattle ranches have
covered the area, almost all of which is privately owned.
Caesalpinia with its mass of spectacular flame-coloured blossoms, the lodge itself was invisible under neatly tiled roofs.
Lunch awaited us in a pleasant airy dining room-cum lounge. The rear part was formed by glass doors, leading to a boardwalk by a serene lake where birds abounded
The food was as good as the view! The sun was fierce and I was contented. My room was excellent – high, brick-built, with ceiling fan and air-conditioning, very comfortable beds and a first-class bathroom.
Attached to my room was a small deck that looked out, view unimpeded, over the lake and wetlands.It just got better and better! There was nothing more I could ask for. On the boardwalk not far from my deck, but separated by a marshy area, was a large cecropia tree. At once I found Quaker Parakeets eating cecropia fruits and a pair of pretty Golden-crowned (Peach-fronted) Conures sheltering from the sun. These were just two of the five species of parakeets we saw daily.
At the front of the lodge was a wooden observation tower. I climbed its steps to view the landscape. Looking towards the main lodge, it was flat as far as the eye could see. A reddish earth track snaked its way across the land which was partly arid now, at the end of the dry season, with a few patches of green. To the right were a couple of small white-painted dwellings with neatly tiled roofs that matched the colour of the track. Not far beyond was a low fence with double gates. A few palm trees dotted the landscape of this open area. To the left was woodland with, just visible, another tiled roof. It was here that the horses were saddled. On the horizon more woodland stretched into the far distance.
Turning to the left, I could see a Jabiru Stork feeding in the wetland. I descended the steps of the tower and down more steps to the water’s edge to watch it fishing. I marvelled at the grace and power of this giant stork, unmistakable with pure white body plumage and part of the neck bright red. Its head is dark grey and bare of feathers. Jabirus are icons, symbols of the complex havens of wildlife that they inhabit. They focus intently on the ground beneath them, waiting and listening and watching, before suddenly plunging the bill into the marsh or the water to pull out a struggling frog or fish.
At 3.30 on that first afternoon we climbed into the safari vehicle, lorry-like with seats around the edges, closed top and open sides – perfect for moving around and taking photographs. It was our transport every day in the company of bird guide, Victor. When we descended to walk across a marshy area with mosquitoes, the heat was overwhelming. We encountered a well-named Gilded Hummingbird – unique in its bronze coloration and coral-red bill. Separated from us by a fence were two young Burrowing Owls, looking fluffy and innocent. They disappeared down their burrow if we approached too closely, then popped up again to see if we had gone.
Conspicuous and noisy – their metallic calls were one of the most characteristic avian sound of the reserve – were the Buff-necked Ibis. Walking around in pairs and prodding the ground with their long, curved bills, they could be approached more closely than the three other ibis species we saw. I found them all very appealing and always enjoyed watching them, with their long-legged gait and their slow, flapping flight with head and neck outstretched. In the vehicle we passed close to Green Ibis feeding in the roadside swamp, one with wings extended. On another occasion, a small group of Plumbeous Ibis with their ruby eyes, shaggy crests, mottled grey plumage and red legs, was probing into the long grasses.
That night, after an excellent dinner, we listened to a presentation by two members of the Ara Azul Project, Chagos and Monalyssa. Ara Azul means blue macaw – the imposing Hyacinthine, of course. Its biggest population, of approximately 1,500 individuals, is in the Pantanal. It also occurs in north-eastern Brazil and eastern Amazonia.
The largest and arguably the most spectacular of all parrots, what happened to it in the 1970s and 1980s illustrated how quickly a species’ numbers can be decimated by trappers and exporters. These macaws proved so easy to catch that thousands were exported to the USA and to Europe, leaving only perhaps three or four thousand in the wild. The tragedy was that supply was greater than demand and hundreds of these magnificent birds died within a few weeks of being captured. Habitat destruction quickened their decline. Then, in 1990, a young lady who was to be their saviour arrived on the scene: Neiva Guedes, a recent biology graduate.
She was determined she would make a difference to the survival of this magnificent macaw. But how? She founded Projeto Ara Azul with great determination. For eight years she worked in the Pantanal without an official field team, enlisting the help of family and friends. An American biologist trained her to climb trees. She studied the macaws on 47 farms in Mato Grosso do Sul and realised that shortage of nest sites was inhibiting recovery of the population. Every year, 3% to 5% of nest trees were lost as a result of storm damage or felling. Ninety per cent of the nests were in the large, smooth-barked trees known locally as manduví. They do not form cavities until they are 60 years old! A metre-long macaw needs a large cavity – and there were just not enough to go round so, in 1995, Neiva erected the first nest-boxes. A tremendous success, they were quickly occupied. By 2008, she and her team had observed 232 Hyacinthine nests in the artificial sites and 390 in natural cavities.
The macaws start to breed in July and several pairs on the ranch had chicks. Our group was very fortunate. On our first day we were able to accompany project members (Neiva was not there) on their “rounds. We followed their vehicle to the first nest in a large manduví in the middle of a field. The parents, who had been sitting atop the box, flew to a nearby tree and watched the proceedings, occasionally growling and yelling but seemingly not unduly concerned. Using ascenders (equipment favoured by mountaineers – a harness around waist and thighs attached to a pulley) Chagos reached the first nest-box at a height of about 40ft (12m) in a couple of minutes. He opened the door, took out a large chick, covered its head with a cloth, placed it in a bucket and carefully lowered it to the ground.
We all crowded round as petite Monalyssa took out the feathered chick. There were gasps at its large size, glossy violet plumage and huge dark eyes accentuated by the yellow bare skin surrounding them. What a beauty! At about eight weeks old, itsupper parts were almost feathered, only the nape and mantle showing the dark grey down. It was quite calm. It was used to being handled; regular inspections were made at many nests. Chick mortality is high and these dedicated workers save the lives of some young macaws by removing ticks and other parasites and, if necessary, patching up the nest which might otherwise be flooded or hazardous for its occupants. Usually two eggs are laid (occasionally three) but only one chick will survive. All those that do in accessible nests are banded and micro-chipped before fledging. Once identified, their life histories can be documented.
In 18 years of studying nests, Neiva had known only one instance of three chicks hatching. The team gave supplementary feeds to the two smallest, and eventually moved one to a nest containing a single chick of the same age. Sadly one died from infestation by fly larvae but the other three fledged successfully.
Not all the nest-boxes are used by Hyacinthine Macaws. Seventeen other species have taken advantage of them and this can make more natural cavities available to the macaws. An unexpected treat was our visit to another nest-box, not far away, where a pair of Green-winged Macaws was rearing two young, probably about seven weeks old. Nests of this macaw are less common here and, again, we were privileged to see the chicks. Their red, green and blue plumage was in perfect condition with an area of greyish-white down on nape and mantle. The tiny lines of feathers on the otherwise bare facial area, typical of this macaw, were already well marked. The tails were half-length but their beaks were already huge. Again, their parents sat in the large manduví tree, watching us, occasionally taking off to circle around, their long red tails so prominent in flight.
That morning had been unforgettable. On our way back to lunch we stopped at the main lodge where a yellow armadillo was rooting around in the earth like a miniature prehistoric monster. Covered in scales, from its arrow-shaped head to its long, tapering tail, it was oblivious to our presence. Close by was a nest of Buff-necked Ibis in the crown of a palm tree. Shaded from the midday sun were two young, almost fully grown. I was grateful to Victor for pointing them out. Victor was an outstanding guide – not only because of his knowledge of birds, and his love for them, but because he was so attentive to our needs, constantly filling our water mugs and handing out fruit and biscuits. And making sure everyone had seen or photographed the species for which we had stopped.
At 3.30pm we went out again to meet Chagos and Monalyssa. Before we reached the main lodge our vehicle came to a sudden halt as Victor spotted a group of parakeets in a tree at the roadside. Well camouflaged among the leaves and wary, like all members of the genus Pyrrhura, they were Blaze-winged Conures. It was my first sight of the species but a good look eluded me. They were little more than silhouettes.
That afternoon we visited another nest-box. Its occupant was a Hyacinthine chick not yet feathered, aged about two and a half weeks. There were plenty of parakeets around. I walked down the road with Victor looking at Nanday Conures perched on a fence and a small flock of little Canary-winged Parakeets, well-camouflaged among the leaves of a large tree. Golden-crowned (or Peach-fronted) Conures were also observed. A pair of White-eyed Conures flew over, then a pair of Blue-crowned Conures, less common at that time. The Nandays, with their jet-black heads, perched in conspicuous spots in the open, watched us with interest and then flew off noisily. Maximilian’s Parrots and Blue-fronted Amazons flew over in pairs.
There was nothing to compare, however, with unexpected sightings of Hyacinthine Macaws. We chanced across them feeding on their principal food – the nuts of the acurí palm with its feathery fronds – and here was a pair feeding only about 5ft (1.5m) from the ground on the fruits close to the thick trunk. They took off hastily on seeing us. When a palm fruit is opened with a machete, three round nuts are revealed within brown fibrous material, surrounded by white pulp like that found in a young coconut. In each cluster there are about 80 fruits. Some of these will fall to the ground, where they are swallowed by cattle who cannot digest them. The macaws search for these softened nuts which they consume with relish. Once we saw a pair feeding in a grassy patch. They had probably found some nuts: I saw one pick up some vegetation to wrap around the item it held. They do this to obtain a better grip, making the nuts easier to crack.
A vivid memory concerns a single macaw drinking. Parrots find water in different ways, the most common being in bromeliads in rainforest and from streams in open country. Here these options did not exist. The macaw had walked across the muddy ground, interspersed with clumps of grass, to reach a large dirty puddle. At the end of the dry season this was all that survived of a larger extent of water. The macaw drank its fill, lifting its head time after time to let the water trickle down its throat.
It was always exciting to see Hyacinthine Macaws on the wing. Often they gave their deep throaty growl when in the air. Large macaws on the wing inspire awe in me, none more so than this species. Their flight is a slow aerial ballet, the synchronisation of two pairs of violet-blue wings. In dark silhouette, the large size, huge bill and long, sword-shaped tail in flight made them instantly recognisable.
We stayed out late for a session of “spotlighting”. As we drove back to our lodge in the dark, Victor sat at the front of the vehicle, sweeping a spotlight from left to right, from right to left. I was not optimistic enough to believe we would see a jaguar but smaller mammals, such as crab-eating racoon and crab-eating fox, were revealed in the beam of the light, along with countless bats.
Next day I was outside, close to the swamp at 5.30am, doused in insect repellent and with only my face exposed. I was there to watch the birds’ dawning day. Half a dozen large ones left their roost and flew overhead. In the half-light their long curved bills identified them as ibis and their metallic calls as Buff-necked. Grey clouds were hanging over the forest that skirted the lagoon and, as I watched, the sky above the trees lit up with an orange glow beneath strata of light and fluffy clouds. Seven whistling ducks flew over, circled briefly and headed off. Kiskadees were shrieking their onomatopoeic calls and a thrush-like song came from an unseen songster. By 5.45am Blue-fronted Amazons were starting to leave their roost; five flew over silently. The loud, unmistakable sounds of the brown, pheasant-like Chaco Chachalacas rent the air intrusively. The clouds were becoming greyer.
I moved to the observation tower. From my lofty viewpoint I watched two Southern Lapwings dive-bomb a caracara; they had eggs or chicks nearby. A herd of capybara slowly made its way from the swamp, across the landscape from left to right. It intrigued me that in a herd there is every possible size, from tiny babies to big, heavy adults, 4ft (1.2m) long and 10 stone (65kg in weight). The largest rodent in existence, they look like giant brown, long-legged guinea pigs. Here they are protected but elsewhere they are killed for their meat. Chopi Blackbirds were feeding at the feet of the capybara and even riding on their backs. I grew rather fond of the Chopis, so busy and noisy, with a swaggering gait like our Starlings. About the same size, they were all glossy black and hung around the lodge, hopefully investigating my deck. The late Helmut Sick (in Birds in Brazil)describes them as having “one of the loudest and most melodious” songs of all the nation’s birds.Even their whistled calls were a pleasure to the ear.
More Amazons were leaving their roost in pairs – and just one trio.By now a rosy-pink glow decorated the sky. The sun rose quickly; in five minutes it had gone, swallowed up by the clouds. More capybara were moving across the landscape, flycatchers were active and a pair of Green Ibis flew past.Four Maximilian’s Parrots landed in a tree close to the lodge. Two handsome Rufescent Tiger Herons flew into the swamp and a stately Cocoi Heron, tall and grey, was fishing.Wattled Jacanas, with red frontal shields and chestnut wings, were stepping carefully among the water hyacinths. A young one, with white plumage from chin to vent, looked like a different species. Not far from the tower, a group of Nanday Conures quartered the ground in their search for seeds.A dozen or more, they disappeared the instance they landed, appearing again as flashes of blue (wings and tail) with an occasional glimpse of their scarlet socks. The search for breakfast had begun! As I turned to descend the steps I noticed a light blue Sayaca Tanager perched inside the tower. His agitation led me to look into a dark corner where his female was feeding chicks.
Breakfast was at 7am – mango and papaya, cereals, hot dishes including a rich cheese tart, and toast and jam awaited us. Half an hour later we climbed into our safari vehicle at the start of another day of surprises. The first was three Hyacinthine Macaws perched on a thick branch of a manduví tree. The middle bird was a full-grown offspring. Young of these long-lived birds are fed by their parents for six months after they fledge and experience parental care for 18 months in all.
Next came a dramatic incident: a Toco Toucan raided the nest of a Rufous-fronted Thornbird. There was no sign of the owner, a small brown bird. It builds a pendulous nest of small sticks. The toucan inserted his long bill and felt around inside. First he threw out some feathers. It took him several minutes to bring out an egg. He held it between his mandibles, tossed it and then swallowed. A second egg followed suit – a tiny snack hardly worth eating. Poor thornbirds!Did they ever rear any young, I wondered? We had numerous sightings of Tocos, bizarre, yet beautiful. They moved around with such confidence, and their unique silhouette in flight always caused excitement.
When I asked Brian what he liked most about the Pantanal, he replied: “The wide open vistas that allow us to see Toco Toucans, Hyacinthine Macaws and others in flight. To me, seeing birds flying is so much more rewarding than watching them skulking about in a bush”.I knew exactly what he meant. It gave a feeling of satisfaction, of really experiencing the bird life, a feeling that is missing from the glimpses that you are lucky to get in rainforest.
When it was all over Linda said the same thing: “I was thrilled by one far-away sighting of a Toco Toucan in the Atlantic Forest but here the Toco Toucans blew me away! They made it for me – together with the macaws, which were the birds, I most wanted to see. The Hyacinthines were just wonderful and the initial sighting was unforgettable”.
Encountering a flock of Yellow-collared Macaws feeding in a woodland tree, a taruma-do-cerrado, was another highlight. These small macaws were absorbed in consuming the grape-sized dark ripe fruits and peered down at us with interest. Mainly green with a golden collar, they were often observed in flight but here we had the opportunity to watch them for ten or fifteen minutes. The more we looked the more macaws we found. At first I saw only three or four but finally realised there were at least 20 and possibly 30!Later Victor pointed to a tree covered in small spiky cones, nearly black in colour. This was chico-magra, and the small seeds inside the cones were favourites of the macaw.
A valued tree, it grows from even a cut stump and its leaves and fruits are consumed by the cattle – of which there were 20,000 on the ranch! They were zebu, humped white animals brought from India during the 1920s due to their tolerance to intense heat and the wet season-dry season changes.
There are four species of deer in the Pantanal – and we saw them all. The daintiest was the pampas deer, in decline due to loss of grassy areas. One little doe, with cinnamon coat and white chin and underparts, stopped nervously to look at us, big ears pricked. On the other hand, a large dark brown buck marsh deerignored the passers-by as it grazed among the grasses.
Three-quarters of an hour before dusk we arrived at the roosting site of hundreds of Blue-fronted Amazons. Biting insects were making themselves felt and the evocative laughing calls of the Amazons were filling the air. The parrots were coming in pairs, almost wing-tip to wing-tip, from every direction. They sailed down into their roost site, a group of large mango trees, calling excitedly and occasionally taking off again to circle around, shouting. Half an hour earlier a small group of young people had been playing football on the grassy area in front of the trees. Just beyond the football pitch, a pair of Hyacinthine Macaws sat on top of their nest-box attached to a large manduví. They took off, to return some minutes later. I photographed them as they swooped low over the field. When I looked at the photo I was surprised to find that each bird was carrying a palm nut in its bill!
The Amazons at their roost looked and sounded so happy to be alive.They didn’t know it, of course, but they were the lucky ones. No grasping hands come to snatch their chicks from the nest. On September 19, just two months before my visit, more than two hundred Amazons parrot chicks were seized by police after they received an anonymous call. All but 16 were Blue-fronted, hidden in boxes of vegetables from Ivinhema, about 190 miles (300km) from Campo Grande, where they ended up in the wild animal rehabilitation centre (CRAS), bringing the total there to 400 confiscated Amazon chicks. Sadly, 53 in poor condition died soon after.Children, acting on behalf of the smugglers, illegally collected the chicks – or even the eggs – just a few of the many thousand young poached from nests in the state of Mato Grosso do Sul and sent to CRAS since it opened 20 years ago. The problem is worse than taking away future breeding stock. Often the tree is cut down to access the nest sites, which are at a premium.
I 1997 Projecto Papagaio Verdadeiro commenced. Based at Caiman Lodge, its aim is to manage and conserve the Blue-fronted Amazons of the Pantanal and the cerrado (the term for dry woodland of small trees and shrubs amidst savannah). Again, its driving force is a woman, Glaucia Seixas.
On our third and last morning in the Pantanal we went riding on patient horses reserved for visitors. Distant views of groups of 30 or so Jabirus were tantalising.I wished I could approach more closely to watch this parliament of storks. But we had to stay on the track, within fenced boundaries – and rightly so. In this reserve you cannot go out without a guide or wander freely away from the lodges. The wildlife comes first.On the plus side, a major advantage is that the birds and animals on the ranch/reserve live in proximity to humans and many allow a close approach.
An afternoon visit to a mango plantation was rewarding. At last I had my first and only good look at Blaze-winged Conures, due to Victor’s speed at focusing his scope.I was treated to the view of a young one shivering its wings as it was fed by a parent. This was an unexpected piece of luck, enabling me to see the scarlet carpal edge of the wing. (Both of Forshaw’s books·, state of immature birds: “undescribed” – so little is known about this species whose small range is centred on the Mato Grosso.) The scarlet under wing coverts of adults give this species its common name; from what I could see this colour was much less extensive in the young one. Apart from the scarlet under the wing, it differs little from the Red-bellied Conure except that the upper surface of the tail is olive – intermediate between the two sub-species of Red-bellied, of which it might well be a sub-species. For me, this was my most important sighting in the Pantanal.
Among the thick foliage of the mango trees were hiding Maximilian’s Parrots. I could see only four or five and, as so often happens, I was surprised to count many more when they took off – twenty at least. I nearly missed a very attractive sight. Victor called me. I hurried over to find a tree full of Yellow-billed Cardinals, quickly moving on, their red heads, dark grey backs and white underparts lighting up the tree as though it were covered in Christmas ornaments. “How wonderful!” I exclaimed. All too soon they were gone.
As cardinals are beautiful, so are caiman hideous to my eyes. On the other side of the road was a small baia (lagoon) inhabited by seven or eight of these lumbering (on land) grey crocodilians. To my surprise, they hauled themselves out of the water and headed in our direction. It seemed that the guides fed them occasionally so that the visitors could observe them on demand. I confess they were too close for my comfort. I turned away, wandered along the road and spotted a gorgeous male Blue-crowned Trogon, his head a shimmering blue and his underparts scarlet. Elegant and colourful, he delighted the eye.
Returning to the vehicle, our group had an excellent view of a gang of White-lipped Peccaries. We watched them emerging from the woodland in twos and three and fours, from big dangerous males to tiny tiny “piglets”, trotting along like clockwork toys. They kept coming, running here and there, snuffling around for leaves and fruits, until I lost count.
Another animal that uses its snout to seek out fruits, as well as its grasping hands, is the coati. A small group of females and their young searched the forest floor, their long tails (banded in brown and white), held vertically. Males travel alone. Once they were called coatimundi, meaning lone coati, and males were thought to be a different species!
There were also brown capuchin monkeys, glimpsed briefly when a small group crossed the road in front of us. One female panicked, bounding about nervously. She was afraid to cross. Then realising that the troop had left her behind, she took a flying leap from a tree on one side of the road to one on the other.My camera recorded the leap in mid-air and only then I saw that a tiny dark baby was clinging to her back.
In the plantation area there were strangler fig trees. Initially without a trunk of their own, they use the support of a palm tree and grow downwards, enveloping the host tree in a mesh of roots of tortuous shapes. Eventually they grow so big that the host dies and only its shell remains. The plantation trees were loaded with ripe mangoes. Victor picked a couple and, later on, he cut them up and handed them out. Mango is a favourite food of many parrots. You might wonder why if you are familiar only with the hard, fibrous fruits that end up in European supermarkets. Those picked fresh off the tree are juicily delicious.
We drove to the main lodge where half the group went canoeing on the lake.I watched Blue-fronted Amazons, Maximilian’s Parrots and Canary-winged Parakeets (I find it hard to use the newfangled name, Yellow-chevroned Parakeet) coming in to roost. There were lots of little Canary-wings and they were not shy of a close approach. They settled down for the night as the sun coloured the sky deep orange, with starkly contrasting black cloud above it. Did this herald the end of the dry season? That night there was lightening and a little rain.
I never expected to see a tapir, largely nocturnal and, with its elongated snout, one of the strangest animals in South America, related to rhinoceros and horses. It has three toes on the hind feet and four on the front.On our last morning we left the lodge at 5.30am for our drive to Campo Grande. Towards the exit, a shout went up: “Tapir!” In a field close to the road, hurrying away, was the largest terrestrial mammal species in Brazil. It was a fitting finale for four days that had overflowed with everything we could have hoped for.
·Parrots of the World (1989) and Parrots of the World, an Identification Guide (2006)
