Panama's Canopy Tower

On this occasion I had the pleasure of making a return trip to the wonderful Canopy Tower, in the Canal Area of Central Panama. My first trip was a little over a year before, in August of 2003 (check out my journals page for an account of the first trip), and it was truly one of the finest experiences of my nascent globetrotting life. When both urge and the opportunity for a serious birding excursion struck me, somewhat at the last minute, I immediately looked into a return to the Tower. It's a great big world out there, and there are countless places I have yet to visit (and bird), but there is something to be said for finding a place you like and sticking with it. In this case, the Canopy Tower guarantees some outstanding birding, a good degree of comfort, and is quite accomodating to the solo traveller (they have single rooms at no extra cost). They also were quite gracious in being flexible about altering their standard Saturday- Saturday itinerary, allowing me to travel using my frequent-flyer miles. Put it all together, and I'm booked!

Make no mistake about it -- I was in Panama to bird, and bird I did, morning, noon, and night. If you're looking for a journal describing the cultural wonders of Panama, stories about the lovely places and people that this fine nation possesses, you might want to look elsewhere. The scope of my interest was quite limited, and I freely admit that I have only a small idea of what Panama has to offer. Nonetheless, in the course of my birding excursions I've been able to observe some things not necessarily directly related to my birding activities. A number of these observations are shared with you below. In the interest of (relative) brevity, I have strictly limited the text and images contained on this page, and have created two other pages dedicated to more specialized (and more spacious) topics. The first offers much more detail on the birds I spotted on this trip, including dozens of images gleaned from hours of digital video, and a more modest page regarding the mammals and other critters sighted this time 'round. In addition, I have built upon last year's Panama butterfly page to include a number of new species I spotted this year. I hope that those of you with a particular interest in any of these categories will choose to explore a bit further

The good news is that Continental has a direct flight to Panama City from Newark, my preferred airport. The bad news: it arrives at about 8:30 p.m., which, combined with a long wait at baggage claim, and an hour's drive to the Tower, means I'm waking the whole darn place up on my arrival. My taxi driver, Jose, is waiting for me at the airport; he recognizes me, a remarkable feat given the number of people he escorts over the course of the year, and that the last time he saw me I had long hair. Jose is self-employed, but I get the feeling that the Canopy Tower is his primary source of revenue, and I would guess a lucrative one at that. My Spanish is better since my last visit, which is not saying much, but Jose speaks enough English that we actually manage a fairly lively conversation for a while. As for his driving; well, I spend most of the trip looking anywhere but the direction we're heading. People who debate the relative road hazards in American cities amuse me- they have clearly not spent any time in the developing nations of the New World!

As we weave our way through the fringes of Panama City, a couple of things strike me. First, we pass a huge cluster of metal structures, absolutely identical, arranged in perfect rows as far as the eye can see. Given that we are in the vicinity of the free-trade zone around the Panama Canal, I naturally assumed these were sea containers, full of cargo waiting to be transferred to its rightful owners. But certain clues led me away from this conclusion, and I confirmed my suspicions on my return trip in the light of day, and also from the air leaving the city; these were not cargo containers, but private homes, massive housing projects consisting of thousands of identical rectangular metal shacks. From the air I could see that some of the residents had made at least token efforts at decoration; a few trees had been planted, a dollop or two of paint applied. But generally these steel boxes were featureless, each smaller than your average overpriced New York City studio apartment, and each most likely housing an entire family of real, living, breathing, Panamanian human beings. Then I considered that these citizens might actually be the lucky ones, having a solid, if bland, roof over their heads, and perhaps even electricity and/or running water.

My second brush with socio-economic reality came when I passed through the more affluent, or at least middle-class, neighborhoods. Most of the homes were one or two stories high, composed of painted concrete, an appropriately durable medium in a land subject to the metereological whims of a tropical climate. Each and every one of these homes was surrounded by some manner of metal grating, usually enclosing a porch as well as the house itself. I remember observing the same phenomenon on a short trip to Guatemala a couple of years ago; I can only come to the conclusion that burglary is a chronic problem in the region, a shameful consequence of epidemic poverty and social inequity. This fact is especially sobering in light of the fact that Panama is one of the mostprosperousnations in the region, and reminds me that, as an average American, I enjoy a standard of living well above that of most people in the world.

But enough harsh reality.... fortunately, the next 8 days will be spent in the somewhat insular environment of the Canopy Tower, through which I am exposed to the best of what this lovely country has to offer (I won't linger here on the virtues of the Tower itself- for a more complete description of the creature comforts it has to offer, check out my Panama 2003 journal for more extensive details). I wake up on Friday, which happens to be my birthday, to typically gorgeous sunrise- well, actually, the mornings here alternate between the glorious sun pictured at the top of this page to a heavy mist (as seen at left). A couple of times during the trip, the cloud cover is so heavy as to handicap long-distance bird observation from the top of the Tower, but there is also a beauty in listening to the unseen roars of Howler Monkeys, the squawks of passing parrots, and the calls of two kinds of motmots. As my itinerary straddles the schedules of two different groups of birders, I spend this day with a small group who I barely get to know, as they are departing the following day. They are a low-key bunch, which is actually a nice way to re-acclimate myself to the sights and sounds of the rainforest. We spend the morning on an easy hike on the Plantation Trail (pictured below left), located at the bottom of the hill, and are soaked by a torrential downpour as we drive back uphill in the open-air Birdmobile. The heavy rains for the rest of the day are the result of Hurricane Ivan (Panama generally experiences secondary effects of Caribbean hurricanes), and, tragically, a number of people are killed in Panama by flooding in the lowlands. For us, thankfully, the only impact we feel is that we choose an indoor activity for the afternoon, a tour of the Miraflores locks of the Panama Canal (pictured at top left). I've never taken this tour, so I'm delighted to learn more about this majestic feat of engineering. The Canal is currently undergoing expansion, a shining manifestation of which is found in a newly-created, beautifully illuminated bridge that popped up almost overnight near the Canopy Tower, a structure so new that it does not even have a road connected to it at this time! My understanding is that this bridge is a welcome alternative to crossing the Canal at Panama City, and will certainly simplify life for a couple of Tower employees who live west of the Canal. The flip side is that the ease of access could open up development in a somewhat unspoiled region. Here's hoping a healthy balance is found!

The second day is a transition day, with many guests coming and going, and as such is unstructured, with no scheduled tours. This gives me the opportunity to bird on my own, and I spend a good part of the day walking up and down Semaphore Hill, trying my hand at solo birding. I have a bit of luck, finding an army ant swarm (more on ant swarms later), and its attendant flock of interesting birds, and by the end of the day I feel like I've re-learned much of what I picked up on my first trip, and I'm ready to take things to the next level....

Over the course of the day Jose slowly but surely delivered the folks with whom I was to spend the next 6 days. In contrast to the small group of the week before, the Tower was now full to the brim, with a high of 16 guests for a couple of days. This was a diverse lot, including a couple of of professional ornithologists, some dedicated birders with neotropical experience, some without, a few well-travelled general nature-lovers, and a couple of what we affectionately (and sympathetically) call "non-birding spouses." They came from all over the U.S. (and one from northern Ontario), from a diversity of professions and backgrounds, and different degrees of birding skill, but all shared an abiding love of nature in general, and birds in particular. We were split up into 2 groups for the week, each with our own guide, but there was some trading back and forth, and we all shared our meals together, changing tables almost every time to make sure we all got a chance to converse. The atmosphere at the Tower is essentially collegial- well, make that "dorm-like"; in the cozy confines of the single rooms, one of guests was prone to a somewhat noisy expression of his bodily functions, particularly during a prolonged morning bathroom ritual, to the minor irritation and considerable amusement of the floor's more delicate residents. Nonetheless, we all got along famously, and I delighted in hearing the stories of my fellow guests, on the whole a well-travelled and jovial bunch. The two groups took different field trips each day, and, as birds can be somewhat emphemeral in nature, each location would produce different sightings in the course of days, hours, or even minutes. There was some good-natured mock-competition between the groups, but really we all celebrated each others' good fortune, and joyfully shared every detail of a good sighting, hoping that each group would have equal success. One of our best sightings was shared by all; both tour vehicles were stopped briefly at the gate at the base of Semaphore Hill, preparing to head in opposite directions, when Mary Gustafson spotted a Tiny Hawk perched above the road just ahead. This was a new bird for most of us, and a rare treat for all, and it certainly would have been a major disappointment in any of us missed it.

One of the great pleasures of this trip was that I got to spend the week in the company of Carlos Bethancourt, one of the Tower's outstanding guides, and truly a world-class birder. Last year I only spent half-a-day with Carlos before he fell victim to a fer-de-lance bite (see my Panama 2003 journal for a full account of this incident), so I was delighted to have the full week in his group. Carlos is articulate, gregarious and highly knowledgeable, and most importantly, extremely enthusiastic; heloveswhat he does, and his passion for birding is quite infectious. Although he sees most the birds we encountered on at least a weekly basis, he still seems as excited as a first-time guest when a particularly good bird appears (he darn near jumped out of his shoes when we found a regionally uncommon migrant Cerulean Warbler!). Carlos has the patience to cater to the needs of all sorts of birders- for example, some folks are mostly content to have the guide tell them what they are seeing, and need frequent reminders as to the identity of even the most common birds (nothing wrong with this- it can be quite relaxing). I go to another extreme; I generally don't like being guided, and do all sorts of research before a trip to familiarize myself with the birds I might see. For me, the primary function of a guide is to in essence render himself obsolete, to provide me with the tools with which I can cut the apron strings and move forward on my own. Carlos has an extensive knowledge of the habits, sounds, and appearance of the birds of Panama, and the uncanny ability to spot the tiniest bird in the densest foliage, then call it to us with a pitch-perfect imitation of the bird's vocalization. But he also has the patience to linger on the "easy" birds, to spend a long time helping an individual "get on" a sought-after bird, and to keep all the members of a group with differing styles absolutely content. Carlos nothing of a top-notch birding talent, and even better, one hell of a guy. I could spend a lifetime in the field with him and not come to achieve half the knowledge he has accumulated, but I would love the opportunity to give it a shot!

This trip was my second to the Canopy Tower within the year, which means, as I kept reminding the other guests, that I know "next to nothing." Which I suppose puts me ahead of the curve a bit. In my group I've got the most neotropical experience, or at least the most experience in birding this part of Panama, which means I can more readily find and identify the more elusive species. I was fortunate to find some truly excellent birds on my own, and generally could share them with the group, which was quite gratifying. It is only on my second trip here that i feel like I'm starting toget it, that I'm starting to understand what I'm looking for and listening to. I'll discuss this at greater length, in the context of some of the species I found, on my Panama 2004 Birds page. In brief, the birds and other wildlife spotted on this trip exceeded even my wildest expectations- even species I'd seen before, such as the Mantled Howler Monkey pictured above right, presented themselves in new and exciting ways (check out my Panama '04 Critters page for more on the non-avian highlights of this trip). I arrived in Panama needing to spot 27 new species to reach the milestone of 1000 birds for my lifetime (a modest 10% of the generally accepted world total), and gave it a darn good shot. A few of the birds were quite easy, as it turned out, such as the White-whiskered Puffbird pictured above left, seen almost every day at close range. Many other possible candidates turned out to be much more elusive; I'd like to take this opportunity to thank carlos and my birding group, who quite graciously took several detours in the effort to help me achieve my goal. I fell 6 species short, closer than I thought I'd get- I'll discuss my quest in more detail on the birds page.

One particular experience deserves a more detailed description on this page: the now legendary tale of the Motmot and the Grasshopper. One afternoon, on the way down Semaphore Hill for a walk along the Plantation Trail, we stopped the Birdmobile when Carlos saw the signs (as only he can) of an army ant swarm. A little background: army ants are perhaps the most fearsome predators in the rainforest, swarming in search of prey in groups of perhaps a million ants. They can take prey as large as lizards and baby birds, and anything small enough to eat tends to run like hell ahead of the advancing swarm. Humans also tend to take note, as a few army ants on the body, while not fatal, can inflict excruciating pain. We also pay attention because ant swarms are invariably attended by certain species of birds, often referred to as ant swarm obligates, who feed on the insects escaping the onrushing ants. At this particular swarm, among the attendees were at least three handsome Broad-billed Motmots (pictured at right) who, much to our delight, were much too focused on the prospect of a good meal to concern themselves with our proximity. We spent almost half-an-hour at this swarm, an eternity in birder's time. Towards the end of our stay, someone noticed that a huge grasshopper (2-3 inches long) had attached itself to the back of Liz from California, a reasonably safe haven from the army ant horde. As typical nature geeks, we made no motion to shoo the creature (pictured at right), but simply chuckled and rushed to capture photos. Finally, Carlos asked if everyone had seen enough, and plucked the grasshopper from Liz's back and tossed it in the air. A nearby Motmot, who was clearly paying close attention, instantly darted from its perch and plucked the insect from midair just above our heads, and proceeded to "tenderize" its meal by smacking it repeatedly against a branch. Carlos was doubled over with laughter, clearly having had some idea of what might occur if he tossed this bait into the air, and joking that this was how the guides lured all the really good birds. We were thrilled by the experience, a fitting end to our experience of one of the exciting natural spectacles of the rainforest, the ant swarm.

It is with sadness that I leave Panama one more time -- this place has come to hold a special place in my heart, and I hope for many return visits. As a birder and a world traveller, there are so many places I have yet to see, but there is something to be said for finding a place you like and sticking to it, getting to know it (and its birds) intimately. Panama represents an excellent opportunity for me to do just that; it has a solid economy, a largely English-speaking populace, and a potential for high-quality ecotourism that is largely untapped. Adding to the intrigue is the fact that soon there will be a sister eco-lodge to the Canopy Tower, in El Valle de Antón to the west, an area I visited briefly last year, and one that holds somewhat different birding possibilites. I am certain that my affection for, and devotion to, Panama is something that will last a lifetime!

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