A sign directing us off the main road, past a farm,
and upward on a dirt road to the Yanacocha Reserve.
Yanacocha Reserve is a small slice of high altitude cloud forest tucked behind the northwest corner of Quito and, on a good day, there are supposed to be views of Guagua Pinchincha, the smaller of the two peaks and the location of the crater that erupted back in 1999. The reserve is one of
eight managed by the Fundación Jocotoco. And the Foundation, in turn, is a part of the World Land Trust. Yanacocha was created as a carbon saving initiative:
Terrestrial habitats, such as forests, grasslands and wet peatlands, contain large volumes of carbon in their biomass and soils. Yet these habitats are being destroyed or degraded at an unprecedented rate, releasing stored carbon into the atmosphere and contributing to global warming. Avoiding the imminent loss of existing habitats prevents the release of stored carbon, whilst enabling the regeneration of degraded habitats gradually re-absorbes atmospheric CO2.
This small reserve has an amazing amount of biodiversity. It is most famous for one of its endangered inhabitants, the Black-breasted Puffleg Hummingbird. Though we didn't catch sight of one, we will be back during peak season and crossing our fingers that we'll see at least one and get a great picture to share with the rest of you. But even while missing this endangered bird, our trip was a success. We added a half dozen new species to our life list and might have added a few more if we wanted to brave the afternoon fog and cold. But damp had penetrated our fingers and toes and we decided to make it a short day. Some of these photos come from a second trip - much fewer birds as we hiked with a group of kids, but many more views.
View of the high altitude farm fields on the way from Quito to the Yanacocha Reserve.
An early morning arrival almost guarantees sun!
Wild fuschia alongside the trail.
Our hike started and ended with birds. Immediately, we heard the twittering in the treetops. Some birds were high up the mountain slope, others further down, and more were in the bushes alongside the trail. We saw many different tanagers, but no pictures I'm afraid. We could hear hummingbirds at regular intervals. Sometimes we just heard their sharp peep, peep notes from high among the tree tops but at other moments we could hear the fast beating of their wings, a thrum that I can feel better than I can hear. It makes the back of my neck tense and I always hope beyond hope that as I turn to look, I will catch a hummingbird in mid-flight. No such luck this time. We also heard the sorrowful tones of trogons near the Masked Trogon trail. Next time, I'm headed down that trail in hopes of capturing one of those beauties guarding their little section of wooded paradise (see caption of photo of the Masked Trogon!).
Our second trip, we managed to see a female Masked Trogon but only have this single picture. It wasn't the kids that scared her away, but me. I had trouble with a camera lens and made a horrific noise. Not my best moment birding.
View of the Andes from the trail.
Our main goal was to visit the hummingbird feeders and see how many different species we might photograph. And we were in luck. Even though the weather changed as we approached the main bevy of feeders, the fog and damp didn't slow down the hummingbirds. In fact, I wondered if the cold made them even more active as they needed more sugar to fuel their tiny, active bodies. The most common hummingbird was a slender Buff-winged Starfrontlet. They were easy to spot because the have a little square of buff colored feathers just where their wings meet their main bodies.
A female Buff-winged Starfrontlet
A pair of female Buff-winged Starfrontlets in the encroaching cloud layer.
Check out the throat of this male Buff-winged Starfrontlet!
The largest hummingbird in the area was a dramatic fellow, dark and somber in the foggy conditions. We never saw the male sitting still enough for a photo, but he has the smallest flash of red at the base of his throat. Otherwise, he is dark blues and greens and purples, the colors of a powerfully painful black eye. These Blue-mantled Thornbills owned the feeders when they arrived and wouldn't allow the other hummingbirds to come near while they were taking their turns.
Blue-mantled Thornbill
Another dashing fellow was the Sword-billed Hummingbird. Much smaller than some of the others, his plain colored green, brown, and black feathers where outshone by the striking quality of his extra long beak. It shone glossy black as if it had been polished and was longer than the body of the bird itself. I was struck at how difficult it must have been to sip from the sugar feeders that don't allow entrance of a beak so long but he managed it nonetheless.
A Sword-billed Hummingbird taking a break.
A Sword-billed Hummingbird at the sugar feeder.
Up around the corner from the bathrooms were two little trails that led to more feeders. One glade held a regular sugar feeder and an open feeder, which was attracting a large flock of Masked Flowerpiercers, all bright blue with black masks covering their faces and startling orange eyes, and a smaller group of Glossy Flowerpiercers, their gorgeous black bodies marked with a flash of Provencal blue. Hidden among the branches, however, was a beauty of a hummingbird, bright flourescent green with turquoise markings at the base of his beak. The little white dot near his eye only enhanced the rest of his brilliant colorings. When we arrived home and I was admiring this little fellow's picture, I noticed he had cute puffy white feathers at his feet - definitely a puffleg of some kind. After gleaning the pages of my favorite guidebook (highly recommended by matching mole),
Aves del Ecuador (Ridgely and Greenfield), I've identified him as a Sapphire-vented Puffleg and I want to return and take more photos so that we can better see his colorful tail.
A Sapphire-vented Puffleg
A different view of the Sapphire-vented Puffleg
A Masked Flowerpiercer
A Glossy Flowerpiercer
When the clouds come in, the entire reserve changes.
At this point, we decided to turn back. The view we should have been able to see from the final glade was impossible to enjoy. The fog had seriously rolled in and we were left with minimal visibility. While walking back, the trail was quieter, sounds muffled by the invasive fog. At least it wasn't raining. We did run into a flock of Rufous Wrens making havoc in the reeds. They were anything but quiet and fairly easy to follow though a little harder to capture in a photograph because their constant busy-ness meant that they didn't stand still. As they hopped through the brush, they lead us to an even better find, a pair of Streaked Tuftedcheeks. These two were almost impossible to photograph as the were digging into tree trunks searching for insects their tails serving for balance so that their heads could swivel and swerve at an amazing speed. They were deep in the darkest part of the forest and even with my highest ISO setting, it was tough to get a good photograph. What a challenge these birds can be!
A Streaked Tufted-cheek busy hunting insects.
A Streaked Tufted-cheek not cooperating for a photograph.
Rufous Wren digging for lunch.
However, when I went back out with friends, we hiked a little further. The weather was better and we were going to hike a loop trail. Our plans changed when we found that the trail had been washed away by a mudslide. But even though we ended up hiking much further than we had planned, it was worth it for the repeated views of the mountains. I think we might have even seen the smaller of two craters of Pichincha, the volcano that erupted in 1999. It is called Guagua Pichincha - guagua is the Quichua word for child. It was a stunning sight, its eroding slopes shining brightly in the afternoon sun that peaked through the encroaching clouds.
Possibly Guagua Pichincha
On both visits we saw only a few people on the trails. I was happy to see some Ecuadorians visiting. We've heard that the locals don't appreciate the rich diversity surrounding Quito but I think we have heard wrong. And just to illustrate how small a place a huge city like Quito can be, we ran into a bird guide that we met on the other side of the mountain near Mindo. He was sharing his excellent bird spotting skills with a large group of birders, all foreigners from Europe or the United States. But he stopped to give me a Quiteño kiss on the cheek before we went our separate ways. I secretly wished he could abandon his large group and tag along with us because with his skills, we would have seen even more birds, I'm sure. Maybe next time. Let me know if you want to join us!
A high altitude farm high above Quito.
A view of Quito in the distance.
If you would like to donate to the World Land Trust, the organization that makes places like Yanacocha possible, here's a
link!