Here's our complete list from 10 January to 7 March. 148 Species, 110 life birds (j). Birds were, after all, one of the main reasons Ecuador called us in the first place.
Anatdae: Ducks, geese and swans
Andean Ruddy Duck
Andean Teal (m)
Muscovy (j)
Ardeidae: Herons, Bitterns and Egrets
Cattle Egret
Great Egret
Cathartidae: American Vultures
Andean Condor
Black Vulture
Turkey Vulture
Accipitridae:Kites, Hawks, Eagles and Osprey
Swallow-tailed Kite
Cinereous Harrier (m)
Barred Hawk
Black-chested Buzzard Eagle
Roadside Hawk
Variable Hawk (m)
Falconidae: Falcons and Caracaras
Carunculated Caracara
Barred Forest-falcon
American Kestrel
Aplomado Falcon
Cracidae: Curassows, Guans and Chachalacs
Wattled Guan
Sickle-winged Guan (j)
Rallidae:Rains, Gallinules and Coots
Sora
Andean Coot
Scolopacidae: Sandpipers, Snipes and Phalaropes
Yellow-legs sp.
Spotted Sandpiper
Andean Snipe
Charadriidae: Plovers and Lapwings
Andean Lapwing
Laridae: Gulls and Terns
Andean Gull
Columbidae: Pigeons and Doves
Band-tailed Pigeon
Eared Dove
Common Ground Dove
Psittacidae: Parrots and Macaws
Red-billed Parrot
Bronze-winged Parrot
Cuculidae: Cuckoos and Anis
Squirrel Cuckoo (western race)
(eastern race) (m)
Smooth-billed Ani
Caprimulgidae: Nightjars and Nighthawks
Band-tailed Nightjar
Apodidae: Swifts
White-collared Swift
Trochilidae: Hummingbirds
White-whiskered Hermit
Green-fronted Lancebill (?)
White-necked Jacobin
Brown Violetear
Sparkling Violetear
Green Thorntail
Green-crowned Woodnymph
Rufous-tailed Hummingbird
Andean Emerald
Purple-billed Whitetip
Empress Brilliant
Green-crowned Brilliant
Ecuadorian Hillstar
White-tailed Hillstar
Giant Hummingbird
Shining Sunbeam
Brown Inca
Collared Inca (m)
Rainbow Starfrontlet (m)
Buff-tailed Coronet
Purple-thoated Sunangel
Golden-breasted Puffleg (m)
Booted Racket-tail
Black-tailed Trainberrer
Green-tailed Trainberrer
Tyrian Metaltail (m)
Violet-tailed Sylph
Purple-crowned Fairy
Purple-throated Woodstar
Trogonidae: Trogons and Quetzals
Golden-headed Quetzal
Masked Trogon
Motmotidae: Motmots
Rufous Motmot
Capitonidae: New World Barbets
Red-headed Barbet
Tucan Barbet
Ramphastidae: Tucans
Crimson-rumped Tucanet
Pale-mandibled Araçari
Plate-billed Mountain Tucan
Chocó Tucan
Picidae: Woodpeckers and Piculets
Crimson-mantled Woodpecker
Black-cheeked Woodpecker
Yellow-vented Woodpecker
Furnariidae: Ovenbirds
Bar-winged Ciclonides
Pacific Hornero
Many-striped Canastero (m)
Pearled Tree Runner
Dendrocolaptidae: Woodcreepers
Strong-billed Woodcreeper
Montane Woodcreeper
Red-billed Sythebill (j)
Tyrannidae: Tyrant Flycatchers
Tuffted Tit Tyrant
Ornate Flycatcher
Black Phoebe
Vermillion Flycatcher
Brown-backed Chat-Tyrant (m)
Paramo Ground Tyrant
Tropical Kingbird
Becard Sp. (Whtie winged/Black Capped)
Masked Tityra
Cotingidae: Cotingas
Cock-of-the-Rock
Corvidae: Crows, Jays and Magpies
Inca Jay (m)
Turdidae: Thrushes
Swanson’s Thrush
Great Thrush
Ecuadorian Thrush
Cinclidae: Dippers
White-capped Dipper (m)
Hirundinidae: Swallows and Martins
Grey-breasted Martin
Brown-bellied Swallow
Blue-and-white Swallow
White-banded Swallow (m)
Barn Swallow
Troglodytidae: Wrens
House Wren
Gray-breasted Wood-wren
Chestnut-breasted Wren (m)
Motacillidae: Pipits and Wagtails
Paramo Pipit
Parulidae:New World Warblers
Tropical Parula
Blackburnian Warbler
Slate-throated Whitestart
Spectacled Whitestart
Traupidae: Tanagers, Honeycreepers, Bananaquit and Plushcap
Bananaquit
Yellow-tufted Dacnis
Blue Dacnis (m)
Masked Flowerpiercer
White-sided Flowerpiercer
Fawn-breasted Tanager
Orange-billed Euphonia
Golden Tanager
Flame-faced Tanager
Golden-naped Tanager
Metalic-green Tanager
Beryl-spangled Tanager
Blue and Black Tanager
Bay-headed Tanager
Scarlet-bellied Mountain-Tanager
Blue-winged Mountain-Tanger
Blue-grey Tanager
Palm Tanager
Lemon-rumped Tanager
Magpie Tanager (m)
White-winged Tanager
White-shouldered Tanager
Dusky Bush Tanager
Cardinalidae: Saltators, Grosbeaks and Cardinals
Southern Yellow-Grosbeak
Emberizidae: Emberizine Finches
Black-and-white Seedeater
Plumbous Sierra Finch
Band-tailed Sierra Finch
Rufous Collared Sparrow
Icteridae: American Orioles and Blackbirds
Scarlet-rumped Cacique
Northern Mountain Cacique (m)
Peruvian Meadowlark
(m) seen by M. only
(j) seen by J. only
15 March 2012
01 March 2012
The Places We Look for Sky
It was like that, in Ecuador, I lifted my eyes to where I thought the horizon should be and found the jagged line of the next ridge. Mountains. I miss the mountains of Ecuador.
I had water from the tap this morning. After two months of agua purificada, it was a pleasure to drop my vigilance. But I missed my morning spread of mango, papaya and orlitas.
I’ve been talkative on my return, lubricated by the ease of communication in my native tongue. But I was surprised to find, as I purchased my train ticket at Grand Central for the journey north and home, and as I ordered tea and a muffin that the Spanish came out first, a buenos dias escaping my lips before I realized what I’d said.
The streets and stations are clean. The “Give a Hoot and Don’t Pollute” campaign having trained us well. The abundance of trash and recycling containers offer an alternative to tossing our trash on the street. And the travel is quieter. There’s no movie playing at the front of the train car, and no folklorico spilling out of speakers between flicks. But I’ll miss that too, the music, the sound track of Andean pipes, Latin Pop, and 1980s Top 40 that flavored our days.
Perhaps it was because we were tourists, our clothes, skin and luggage marking us as extranjeros, but when we stopped, confused, help was always on hand. The Ecuadorianos we met were proud to have us visiting their country, and concerned that we should like it. There was time for a friendly greeting on the street, a handshake. I have, too, left my traveling companion in Ecuador to spin out his own adventures for a time. And I miss both the camaraderie of the culture and of my partner. But I’m ready for the community of home. Ready to trade email for the more intimate interactions of phone and in-person visits.
So as the train rolls north along the Hudson, brown and gray-banked with the dormancy of winter, and under the steel sky that signals snow, I lift my eyes to the far bank and find there softly rolling hills. And I know that I am home.
I had water from the tap this morning. After two months of agua purificada, it was a pleasure to drop my vigilance. But I missed my morning spread of mango, papaya and orlitas.
I’ve been talkative on my return, lubricated by the ease of communication in my native tongue. But I was surprised to find, as I purchased my train ticket at Grand Central for the journey north and home, and as I ordered tea and a muffin that the Spanish came out first, a buenos dias escaping my lips before I realized what I’d said.
The streets and stations are clean. The “Give a Hoot and Don’t Pollute” campaign having trained us well. The abundance of trash and recycling containers offer an alternative to tossing our trash on the street. And the travel is quieter. There’s no movie playing at the front of the train car, and no folklorico spilling out of speakers between flicks. But I’ll miss that too, the music, the sound track of Andean pipes, Latin Pop, and 1980s Top 40 that flavored our days.
Perhaps it was because we were tourists, our clothes, skin and luggage marking us as extranjeros, but when we stopped, confused, help was always on hand. The Ecuadorianos we met were proud to have us visiting their country, and concerned that we should like it. There was time for a friendly greeting on the street, a handshake. I have, too, left my traveling companion in Ecuador to spin out his own adventures for a time. And I miss both the camaraderie of the culture and of my partner. But I’m ready for the community of home. Ready to trade email for the more intimate interactions of phone and in-person visits.
So as the train rolls north along the Hudson, brown and gray-banked with the dormancy of winter, and under the steel sky that signals snow, I lift my eyes to the far bank and find there softly rolling hills. And I know that I am home.
North along the Panamerica
From the bus window, bougainvillea blooms over a rebar fence. Rows of corn, with their encircling wreaths of bean plants edge concrete buildings and spill into empty lots. Cement blocks, in their own rows dry in the sun. Where corn occupies the horizontal spaces, advertisements fill the vertical ones: Claro, Movistar, Oreo, Pilsner, Sunny D.
On the LG flat screen TV at the front of the bus, a Coyote picks up a woman and her two children, driving them north to the boarder in preparation for a crossing.
From the bus window, a roasted pig, propped on cement blocks, awaits carving. Next door, three chickens spin on a spit over embers. Tethered cows graze circles into the grassy shoulder. I watch the landscape oscillate between pastoral Vermont and Montana’s Ranchland.
Tempers flare in the desert. The route has changed. The immigrants are running out of water.
From the bus window, a boy in a yellow shirt levers against the stubbornness of two piglets. A little girl walks with her mother, clutching the pleated fabric of her skirt. The woman's hands are clasped behind her back.
On the LG flat screen TV a reunion. The credits roll. The next movie begins. Vin Diesel steals a Corvette Grand Sport from a moving train.
From the bus window, a festival in action. A crowned man astride a horse with burgundy saddle blankets carries a dead chicken slung over his shoulder. On the opposite hillside five men wind in a serpentine dance carrying flags and a pole from which four more chickens hang by their feet. Trucks parked on the shoulder sell drinks and provide music, while campesinos claim their hillside perches for the show.
Guns are drawn on the streets of Rio. Drivers downshift and seek and opening. A ten-ton safe wrecks havoc in the wake of two Charger SRT8s.
From the bus window, a kestrel plunges for a sparrow. Concrete canals line the road, and the precise plantations of pine and eucalyptus.
The credits roll, the bus pulls into the station.
I am in a land between lands. What America do they know? What Ecuador do I?
On the LG flat screen TV at the front of the bus, a Coyote picks up a woman and her two children, driving them north to the boarder in preparation for a crossing.
From the bus window, a roasted pig, propped on cement blocks, awaits carving. Next door, three chickens spin on a spit over embers. Tethered cows graze circles into the grassy shoulder. I watch the landscape oscillate between pastoral Vermont and Montana’s Ranchland.
Tempers flare in the desert. The route has changed. The immigrants are running out of water.
From the bus window, a boy in a yellow shirt levers against the stubbornness of two piglets. A little girl walks with her mother, clutching the pleated fabric of her skirt. The woman's hands are clasped behind her back.
On the LG flat screen TV a reunion. The credits roll. The next movie begins. Vin Diesel steals a Corvette Grand Sport from a moving train.
From the bus window, a festival in action. A crowned man astride a horse with burgundy saddle blankets carries a dead chicken slung over his shoulder. On the opposite hillside five men wind in a serpentine dance carrying flags and a pole from which four more chickens hang by their feet. Trucks parked on the shoulder sell drinks and provide music, while campesinos claim their hillside perches for the show.
Guns are drawn on the streets of Rio. Drivers downshift and seek and opening. A ten-ton safe wrecks havoc in the wake of two Charger SRT8s.
From the bus window, a kestrel plunges for a sparrow. Concrete canals line the road, and the precise plantations of pine and eucalyptus.
The credits roll, the bus pulls into the station.
I am in a land between lands. What America do they know? What Ecuador do I?
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