Counting Parrots

So for all of you who asked, how do you count parrots, here is the answer.

Every morning we monitored 3 colpas (local name for a clay lick that is used by parrots, macaws and parakeets to eat clay) in 2 shifts. When the birds were feeding, we counted them every 5 minutes (literally, 1, 2, 3 etc) and if there were big numbers, two people did it and compared numbers. The birds here are very cautious due to hunting and so seeing long periods of feeding was rare, 15 minutes was good. I was lucky enough to see 32 red and green macaws feed one morning, which was amazing. One thing I have learnt is that biologists in the field have a lot of patience, it is a long slow haul to collect data! They may also suffer from ulcers as the sense of anticipation every morning - will the birds arrive, will they feed - is really strong.

Here is my memory of one morning, which is reasonably typical.

"We are up first, the moon has set and the air around us is black. In the torch beam you can see water droplets, humidity is at its highest for the day around 98%. We grab a cup of coffee and leave the lodge in silence, down to the boats. Into the canoe and we paddle out into the current. I sit in front and use the torch to look for eye shine from caiman in the beam. As Alan paddles I pick up reflections, mostly moths but then at last a caiman under some branches. The morning mist hangs low over the trees and the torch beam shows it thickening in front. The trees drift by in vague silohuette as the river flows thickly past. Light begins to appear and objects become clearer. A dog starts to bark and as we round the bend a campfire glows bright on a sandbank. Figures in the dark and a torch beam stabs out across the river to find us. We glide past keeping our distance on the other side of the river.

Around another bend and Alan points the bow at the bank and paddles hard to take us alongside a fallen tree. We ground and step out into ankle deep water, making fast the canoe to the tree. We climb over the flotsam on the beach, put the mosquito net up and get in. There is just enough room for two of us on camp chairs inside. We start taking data at 5:45 but the mist is still thick and we see nothing. Around 6am Alan hears the first parrot and shortly after another species, by 6:15 we have recorded 6 different types an average start to the day. We still cannot see very well but periodically get the telescope focused and see some perched birds . Eventually the mist lifts a little and then the boats start to come past. Perhaps because it is a Saturday but it is busy with several boats coming down river, each time the birds fly away in alarm (a flush) and if they return come back to the tops of the trees. At last some quiet occurs and the birds start to think about moving down to the colpa. Some dusky headed parakeets do a fly by to check it is all safe but it is too late for us today. The lodge boat outboard can be heard coming to pick us up and save us the 45 minute upstream paddle. As the boat arrives the birds flush and we pack up.

The early morning light makes the trees glow and seem especially green. The mist has gone and the sky is a perfect blue. With the light breeze created by the boat movement and the warmth of the morning sun the river is an Eden. The trees fringe it in serenity, the darkness of the forest hiding its treasures - brilliant macaws and parrots, enchanting tamarins, athletic spider monkeys, musician wrens and all of the diversity of this incredible place. At this moment it is a paradise of wonders."