Myths and legends from across Central America are filled with stories of gigantic beasts and bright alebrijes dwelling deep in the jungle and high up the impenetrable mountain folds along the continental divide that splits the region into Pacific and Atlantic weather zones. One of the most enduringly beautiful of these legendary animals is that of the Quetzalcoatl, the iconograph of Mayan rulers and the deliverer of power in a region steeped in ancient tales.
But of course, all myths have their origin stories and the Quetzalcoatl finds its tale of impossibly rare, flashing green-blue-yellow feathers and iridescent brilliance in the truth of nature, namely in the very real Resplendent Quetzal that inhabits the high-elevation cloud forest regions. This legend become real is one of this part of the world's most spectacular - and sought after - animals and draws committed birdwatchers from the world over to try and catch a glimpse of it.
Historically the distribution of the Quetzal had covered many of Central America's cloud forest zones, but due to the immense triple-threat pressures of climate change forcing cloud forest species to higher altitudes, rampant deforestation across the region and, in the particular case of the Quetzal, efforts of humans to capture specimens for feathers and other adornments and trinkets, the species is highly endangered. Across Guatemala, Mexico, Honduras and the neotropical zone Quetzals are revered animals spoken of in hushed tones most prominently in the places where they are already extinct.
There are areas, however, where the Quetzal has been protected, nurtured and now, at least for the time being, draws specialist tourists from all corners of the globe to see these truly resplendent creatures in their native forests. Such an area is the central highland region of Costa Rica, bridging the continental divide (misleadingly skewed decidedly towards the Pacific coast). Across the staggering cloud forests and perma-soaked jungle coated mountaintops, zonal biodiversity plays out in full force.
The valleys adjacent to the aptly named Cerro de la Muerte range piling up on the boundary of Cartago and Puntarenas provinces harbour cooler, pouring river systems and near-vertical muddy rainforest slopes, impenetrable to even the sharpest machetes, and an untouched, fractal wilderness of vegetation, mosses and thousands of species of trees and plants. Nestled in this steam and green canyonscape, the resplendent quetzal finds its preferred habitat, but finding them is a different matter altogether in an area so impassable.
Cloud forest systems are high-altitude rainforests starting from 400 metres elevation, and topping out at peaks of several thousand metres. In the tropics, such areas remain dense in forest right up to the summit. From the base to the peaks of such mountains, one encounters a cross section of the world's forests. In the highest regions supplying the Rio Savegre far up in Costa Rica's axial mountains, one finds oak trees and winding leafy rivers more akin to those in European woodlands than the tropics of Central America.
Despite this wetter, more temperate environment, midday heat boils off steam from the treetops and jungle wildlife abounds. Tapirs, aracaris, ocelots and all manner of flamboyant insect life stalk the forest in an effort to be as inconspicuous as possible. With it characteristic vocalisations, the quetzal flits from branch to branch, perched among lichens and ferns more reminiscent of the age of dinosaurs.
We had taken the slow, chaotic winding road over the hills from Cartago, past a cloud-blanketed Volcan Irazu, and up onto the divide to the Dantica cloud forest reserve high above the village of San Gerrardo de Dota. Above us, a drenched and patched up highway ran through foggy rainforest and semi-Paramo into Los Quetzales, one of Costa Rica's lesser visited and more off-piste members of its broad coalition of National Parks and extensive network of private nature reserves.
The park is muddy, difficult to access and extends over a huge area, much of which requires specialist permit and park rangers to access in detail. Thunder rolled continuously around us and the rains came and went throughout the day, on occasion torrential, other times wispy. The depth of green and health of colour in such a warm, wet environment is difficult to overstate.
Endless teams of hummingbirds, toucanets and a medley of yellow, red and black birds flew back and forth around the trees and lower lying vegetation. No sign of quetzals for now though, so we resorted to holing up in a nearby soda and taking the epic lunchtime casado on offer while a large family table of locals celebrating a birthday endlessly occupied our son.
The mamacita in charge of the establishment displayed Montezuman style chocolate, made practically next door, beyond anything one can taste outside of Central America. As we finished our casados and the stick-the-fruit-in-a-blender beverages universal in this part of the world, a cloud of black, green and indigo hummingbirds descended on the relics of the day's fruits hung outside. We were in a private, if rain-drenched, heaven all of our own.
Afternoon rains deteriorated and we spent the evening in our high altitude cottage with an unreal view down the Savegre valley where the cloud forest earned its name. Numerous birds that we failed to identify paid us a visit, along with scores of rain-loving hummingbirds and semi-drowned geckos. With the rains unstopping and the temperature dropping surprisingly low for Costa Rica, we retired to our somewhat damp beds and lit the paraffin heater. Such an odd experience for this part of the world.
At the crack of dawn the following day we made our way through a hurried spread of maracuya biscuits, guava empanadas and the unbeatable coffee that doesn't make it out of the country for sale elsewhere, obviously served black with a pile of raw cane sugar in. I'm not in the league of coffee drinkers who struggle to define themselves outside of their morning beverage choice, but it's hard to describe the sheer appeal of a cup of Costa Rican coffee. The many plantation tours across the country attest to this.
Immediately following our breakfast we took to a microbus and freewheeled the tortuous, badly maintained seemingly vertical road down through the layered ecosystem of the Dantica reserve which lies over the river from the park boundary of Los Quetzales. The distinction is irrelevant as the forest is contiguous from one to the other. A rare black guan stuttered in the first light as we passed, though the gradient was such that stopping to photograph it would've created all sorts of headaches.
On the outskirts of the provincial village of Dota, tucked away from the world and beholden to the joyous rurality of a life suspended in nature, we headed out of the van and plodded up a mud slickened path into dense jungle. The embankment we were on was slippy from the night's downpour but even at this early hour the sun was burning away the moisture some 1200 metres below our cloudtop cottage.
Then we heard it. The high-pitched whistle of the male quetzal - a bird truly deserving of the title Resplendent. The sound punctured the jungle above the usual insect and flowing water din and we were left undertaking the near-impossible task of scanning the ultradense green foliage for the sighting of a green, foliage-patterned bird. Rainforest animals are challenging to spot at the best of times, but the quetzal is even more so.
With the aid of pinpoint hearing, our guide Hector sighted the stubby black silhouette of the male quetzal on a distant branch. To approach would have made it fly away; our only hope for seeing the bird in all its stunning colouration was for it to change position and fly closer. We waited with baited breath watching the highly decorative tail flick up and down in a dance that tricked my camera's sensors continuously.
In a rare moment of supreme serendipity, befitting the hard-to-spot nature of the subject itself, the sun struck the valley floor for the first time that morning through a gap in the vegetation on the nearby valley side; the rays illuminated a nearby branch just as a second male flew through the canopy from our right. The disturbance set the first male to flight who promptly landed in the lit up patch of vegetation for a white-haloed vision of the bird itself.
The greens, blues and yellow of the feathers are metallic, iridescent in quality, providing an unnatural-seeming, inherent HDR appearance to the bird. The swooping tail flitting this way and that, the quetzal perched for mere moments before surging through the canopy again at a rapid pace. Of course, in the dense forest we immediately lost sight but could hear it making its way for some half hour after our fortuitous sighting.
Later that morning we sighted a nest across the valley floor, and watched and for some time without avail. It seems you may only get lucky enough once with some creatures, but the sumptuous greenery around us and the soaring cloud forest stage was enough to captivate me without any animalian actors. Pleased with our efforts, we explored the nearby Savegre river as it flowed down through rocks and cataratas with reckless abandon, ultimately heading to a far greater flow on the Pacific coast far below.
Several days later, further up the backbone chain of Costa Rica at the inimitable cloud forest reserves of Monteverde and the Children's Eternal Rainforest, we were fortunate enough to site a second quetzal (pleasingly without the aid of a guide); this time a female, far less flamboyant than her male counterpart, but nonetheless stunning and captivating in equal measure. The distance through the trees remained great but we spent a good half hour again watching her.
The quetzals had been kind to us, very occasional visitors to their mountain hideouts, but theirs is a plight of great concern in the world of boreal conservation. The tragedy of tropical montane regions is that their forests are stratified according to altitude, approaching more temperate tree species and rain patterns towards their summits.
With global warming, the drier basal forests expand vertically, and the highly endemic species populating the summit regions have nowhere to go as they must move up the mountain to survive year on year; a cruel and highly localised parody of the world entire where arctic biomes are warming significantly faster than those at lower latitudes.
The true irony is that for cloud forest species their respective mountains are their entire worlds, and they are unable to leave for parts further afield. The Resplendent Quetzal, at the tops of Costa Rican mountains, will be among the first to perish as it has done in so many other regions of Central America throughout which it has been worshipped as a god since remembered time began.
All photography © Chris Milligan Photo. All views are my own. Seek local recommendations before photographing or approaching any wildlife.
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