Ahead of the storm

On the 24^th of June, Brad, Ernesto and I headed down for our last visit to Monkeytail Branch. Much to our delight the trail/road from Las Cuevas Research Station to the river was dry and, for once, we weren’t sliding all over the road and worrying about getting stuck in a rut.

Brad and I setting up the new kayak sleds.

After the previous experience with our wheel system, we completely abandoned that for thin sheet metal sleds. These helped keep the kayaks in good shape but the drag produced from them required an exhausting amount of energy to get the kayaks down the valley slope. Panting and aching, I abandoned mine about 100 feet before reaching the river. No more!

We reached the river about the same time that we normally arrive at Las Cuevas. As usual, we just walked in and soaked for a few minutes before taking off. The river was at a nice water level and we quickly gained the first nest before lunch. On our previous visit, there had been zero activity and the nest had suffered from a raptorial predation event. So it was to our surprise that we found both parents present, one in the cavity and one on top, and, what’s more, 3 eggs at the bottom of the cavity! A late, second attempt. If they successfully fledge, we’re looking at late August at the earliest…crazy…hope they make it. Brad continued to take habitat measurements. We then left and moved just down river for lunch.

Of course, at our lunch spot we noticed that both of our kayaks were already developing cracks and taking on water…what’s new?

Three new eggs on the Monkeytail Branch (photo by Brad).

After lunch we moved down to a bend in the river where several nice cavities were spotted. An apparent xatero trail passed through the area so it made walking to the cluster of trees easy. However, spotting the right trees from below the general canopy is a bit tricky. I found what looked to be a nice tree and we shot a line over and I climbed. I was a bit nervous about some of the flies as my mind was intensely nervous following Brad’s bees attack on the previous trip up the Macal River. All went well and the cavity was suitable for comparison. It began sprinkling while up there but the downpour held off until we reached the kayaks.

Brad climbing up the nest on the Monkeytail Branch.

Looking up while hanging from the comparison nest.

As soon as we were moving down the Monkeytail it really began pouring. We knew that a tropical system might be moving in, which can spell disaster in the mountains…floods.

Bilging my kayak in the rain...fun!

After passing the main tributary I needed to pull over and bilge the water out of my kayak. I found a nice bedrock uplift that met my needs well.

Here I am maneuvering through a small channel.

We continued downstream, passing the rock where we encountered the large group of xateros on our prior visit to the Monkeytail Branch. After pushing downstream until 5:30pm, we reached our usual campsite above the confluence with the Raspaculo Branch. After setting up camp we made a ridiculous attempt at starting a cook fire for dinner and, after 45 minutes of futility, settled on cooking with hexamine fuel tablets…much more sensible under those weather conditions. It rained a little during the night but not hard.

View from one of our poached nests on the Raspaculo Branch.

We got a late start the following morning and reached the first of our two poached nests on the upper Raspaculo Branch by 9am. Our objective was to at least get the necessary data from these two nests before having to leave ahead of the potential stormy weather. Brad installed the temperature dataloggers and we headed upstream in search of a comparison nest. In short time we found what appeared to be a suitable tree.

After chopping our way up the steep slope, we reached the floodplain and continued chopping a path through the thick, tall grass and vines. Connecting with Tapir trails, we made it to the tree in about twenty minutes.

We easily shot a line over and I began to ascend through a thick layer of vines covering the bottom of the trunk. After penetrating that thicket, I paused and scanned the tree, for a fourth time, in search of bees. Crap! On a lateral branch a small cavity that I had overlooked was humming with activity. Seeing this, I quickly descended and we abandoned that attempt. Heading upstream, we settled for a cavity on a fig tree along the river.

Base of another poached tree. This on was chopped down.

We then continued upriver to the second poached tree, which had been chopped down a month ago. Along the way we watched on as an iguana dropped out of a tree, attempting to reach the water to flee our presence. It badly misjudged its position and, instead, slammed against the river bank, with a loud “Thwack!,” knocking itself out cold! Soon afterwards we were treated to a nice view of an ornate hawk eagle as it flew in above us with a small iguana in its talons…very cool.

Arriving around a quarter past four, we took measurements of the fallen tree and nest cavity. For comparison, the adjacent tree was perfect and had a couple of cavities. Brad climbed this tree and took measurements. While doing this, he noted that the substrate felt ‘soft’ when sending the tape measure into the cavity. Just before descending, he remembered to take a photo inside of the cavity. Much to his surprise, a raptor was sitting on eggs inside! I later determined it to be a barred forest falcon…very rare and a lucky find.

Nesting barred forest falcon (courtesy of Brad).

After finishing with the comparison nest, we cleared out a small area below the trees for our campsite. I then decided to give Ernesto a call to get a weather update. After a few attempts, I was able to get a hold of him. Between the static, I definitely heard him. “Get out!” “Alex is now a tropical depression”. Wow! It was late, close to 6pm and daylight was fading. I told him we would head downstream until dark, camp and push to get out the next day. We hopped in our kayaks, each holding water, Brad’s had more than mine, and we paddled furiously to try and gain the campsite at the confluence of the Raspaculo and Monkeytail Branches. At least we were heading in the right direction to take advantage of the fading light.

We reached the campsite at dusk and quickly set up camp. After eating dinner, we called it a night rather early. I awoke during the night to hear that the downpour had begun. It rained all night.

Breakfast in the rain, under the shelter of my hammock (photo by Brad).

We arose in the morning to rain and had coffee and breakfast under the cover of our tent hammocks. We then began the long haul downstream to our exit. The rains picked up and up.

Making our way through the downpour of tropical depression Alex.

It now turned into an intense rain, we were lucky to be on the reservoir now and not up the river. We paddled all morning and into the afternoon. Upon reaching the main part of the reservoir, the wind picked up and was blowing into our faces. So now we had to paddle the remaining two hours with the rain in our faces and chop slamming into our bows, spraying water over us…joy.

With relief, Ernesto was at the take out, nervously awaiting our arrival. We quickly loaded up and got out of there. The mountains were getting an intense rain storm and I really wondered what it was going to look like on our next visit to Cushtabani.

Lucky to be alive

Three weeks ago two Guatemalan technicians working for Wildlife Conservation Society visited to conduct a survey of trees surrounding the scarlet macaw nests in Belize. A similar survey was recently conducted in Guatemala. We had a rough start and it really didn't get any better.

Ernesto and I playing in the mud (photo by Brad).

On the 17th of June, we loaded up the Jeep for an early start. Crossing over Mountain Pine Ridge, we headed for the Kinlock Camp Road. The idea was to put in at this new location, providing us with access to the Macal River at a spot closer to where we needed to begin and then we could just work our way downstream. It didn't work out.

Ernesto was driving while I had the GPS hooked up to my laptop to navigate the unsigned roads to Kinlock and down to the river. Everything was going well when we hit a mud spot. The Jeep promptly sunk. Four-wheel drive refused to engage and we quickly were deeply mired down to the frame.

We attempted every type of pushing and lifting, shoving rocks and branches under the tires to no avail. I haven't been that muddy in a long, long time...I might have been ten years old. While looking under the front end, I noticed that two plugs to the front axle shift motor were unplugged. No wonder the four-wheel drive wasn't engaging. Plugged those in and we were able to sink in new ways.

I finally pulled out the come along, a type of winch, and my tow cable...and there were no trees close by...go figure. We had to tie it off to a tree that was nearly perpendicular to the jeep. It was good for about five minutes of revving and winching before it would snap with frightening force and nearly break whoever was working the come along. Then we would have to retie it, each time getting progressively shorter. After about eight hours of this crap we moved the jeep about 7 feet and were still in the mud and out of rope. It was hopeless.

I pulled out my satellite phone and tried to get help from the Forest Dept as well as Friends for Conservation and Development. It was a case of wait and see, wait and see...oh the office is now closed so sorry. In a last ditch effort, I called our friend Emil. He promptly rounded up a vehicle and some friends for the rescue.

While waiting, Ernesto and I took a walk down the remaining to road to see the condition. Hmmm...it was crazy. There is no way the Jeep would have made it...a crazy idea based on the suggestion of someone who had obviously not been there. I was really pissed at myself for following his suggestion instead of going using the roads I know to be good.

Brad, Ernesto, Pancho, and myself eating in the road (photo by Vicky).

We returned to the group and got a fire going on the road for dinner...a little spaghetti. I then brought out the rum and agua de coco to assuage our pain while waiting. It was not two hours when we were all out cold, sleeping in the middle of this far out dirt road to nowhere. I awoke at 8:30pm to Emil walking through our slumbering circle with his headlamp on. What? of cool!

Brad playing with a de-stingered scorpion.

It was not long before we had the chain hooked on from Gonzo's Mitsibishi and we were out. We were now following behind them in the dark. It was difficult to monitor the condition of the road in front of us...and I fell into a HUGE rut! No! We were heading out and home and now I probably killed the Jeep and was really stuck. They hooked the chain back onto the front end and pulled while I floored it. Nothing.

Ernesto and Emil next to the recently rutted Jeep.

I got out and looked under the jeep. I wall of dirt and rock was flush with the front differential. It was not going forward. I had them pull the Mitsubishi behind the Jeep and we were able to back it out. Okay, on the road again. The stress of trying to get the Jeep unstuck all day had caused the radiator to spring a leak. Now overheating. It took three stops of refilling the radiator at creeks to get us back into town...at 2am.

Exhausted, we all crashed, glad to be clean and have a bed under us...what would tomorrow bring?

Zahir Garcia, the smallest member of the research team.

Ernesto and family came over the next morning and we got a late start, leaving around 11am. We headed to the Ballerina Rd put-in, just above the Chalillo dam. It was a longer route, but a sure one. We loaded up the kayaks and hit the water. Vicky's inexperience on the water was apparent as she quickly b-lined towards the shore and beached herself. Unable to free herself, Brad and I retrieved her. There was no time for an hour learning session so we tied her kayak onto the back of my kayak and headed off. She could provide some propulsion but I was going to handle the steering. This worked well. It was a little extra work but more efficient than the alternative. Along the way we had a nice look at a Tapir...a first for Vicky!

Pancho (foreground), Vicky and myself (background) paddling up the reservoir (photo by Brad).

We reached the first nest and was surprised that the veg crew could not collect any data. It was at that point that their methodology became more clear...oh man. These reservoir nests were not going to go well. We then headed up a nest that had been burned by poachers...they set fire to the tree if it's dead in the hopes that the chick will jump out. I am sure that most of the time they just burn to death.

Nest burned to the ground by poachers.

We camped at this spot amongst the dead trees and stumps and continued up the next morning to a nest we had been told was probably poached. While we confirmed this, Vicky and Pancho measured the trees in the area. Sure enough, another poached nest. We then headed up above the reservoir to Kinlock Camp. It was tough work pulling my own kayak along with Vicky's put we switched off and got the work done. We reached there we were shocked that someone had cleared a road through the area...interesting. It was early enough to climb the nest tree before camping. We retrieved the temperature datalogger (which failed due to battery failure, arggghhh!) and collect habitat data.

Nearly ready to fledge chick.

The next morning we headed up to our furthest up nest on the Macal River, about 3km upriver. It didn't seem to take too long to get up there. Brad climbed this tree. We expected the chick, Chicken Little, to be close to fledging. Sure enough, it was, and it was just gorgeous! I could hear it screaming from the ground. Brad then took a few minutes to collect habitat data. After slinging a rope around the tree to measure the circumference of the tree at the nest, he attempted to pull it back around. It got stuck, wedged in the fork of a lateral branch. He pulled and yanked, kicking and slapping the tree several times in the process.

All of a sudden I heard, "Oh god, killer bees!" It was a horrifying feeling. There was nothing I could do down here and Brad was stuck up there. "Cover you face," I yelled. It had already pulled his bandana over his face and was switching over to his descending gear blindfolded (glad we've used this gear for six months already!). I haphazardly threw gear into the dry bag and as soon as he hit the ground I sent him to the river with the bag, still wearing all of the climbing gear.

We were luck...Brad was VERY lucky. The bees called off the attack after he descended. I took a few photographs and pulled the rope down, put it up and walked down to the river. I inspected Brad's head for stingers but he had got them all using the compass mirror. All told was stung about 7-10 times in the face. It was crazy!

The swollen progression of poor Brad.

We headed downriver and I tried to climb a comparison nest. By the time we were set up and heavy downpour began. Not knowing how bad it was going to be, we had to call off the attempt and get downstream. We reached Kinlock Camp and ate lunch while Pancho and Vicky loaded up their kayaks. We then headed back downstream and camped above the confluence with the Raspaculo Branch. It was a beautiful evening. Brad began swelling up and by the following morning his eyes were nearly swollen shut.

Pancho, Vicky and I heading downriver (photo courtesy of Brad).

We stopped at the confluence to attempt to climb a dead stump with a poached nest. The rope kept getting stuck at the top and we could never pull it over the top. We did pull a temperature data logger over the top to at least collect that data.

Think I'm going crazy.

We pushed down the reservoir towards the take out and the last nest. We ran into a Blancaneaux Lodge tour being conducted by FCD and were informed that the pair across from Ballerina Rd were, in fact, using a cavity to the left of the one we had all originally suspected. By this time I was really on edge and mentally and physically exhausted. Pulling two kayaks and gear around all over the place, on top of the normal work, was exhausting. Luckily, by the last day, Vicky was getting the hang of paddling and she did really well paddling the rest of the way down the reservoir solo...way to go Vicky! I was already having reservations about taking them up the Raspaculo to Cushtabani. That's another level or two of distance and intensity. Not to mention that the risk of flash flooding was very real with the onset of the rainy season.

We climbed the nest and I was quite shocked to find three peeping, newborn chicks in the smallest macaw cavity I have ever seen. They barely fit, what was going to happen when they began really growing. Only one was going to make it for sure. Brad and I headed over to the original cavity and climbed that one as a comparison nest. By the time we finished, I was severely dehydrated and worn out and frustrated with the trip. After all of the time with the veg crew, it seems that their methodology which works well in the primary forests in the Maya Biosphere Reserve do not apply to the successional riparian forests where we were working.

We paddled over and loaded up. On the way out, the jeep began hesitating and lugging. I had everyone get out and then Ernesto was able to get the Jeep all the way up to the ridgeline. The rest of us, tired and thirsty, had to stumble and walk up the gravel road to the top. I was pissed. I was tired. And I was ready to go home.

The fun never ends at Natural Arch

This past Sunday we headed back to the Chiquibul in order to check up on our lone nest on the Chiquibul Branch. The plan was to go for a long day trip, with the possibility of staying overnight.

Brad and I picked Ernesto up at his house around 6am and headed out of town. I drove a bit more quickly over the Pine Ridge than usual, mainly because we needed to get down there as quickly as possible.

After crossing over the Guacamallo Bridge at the Macal River we entered the Chiquibul Forest. A short drive later we stopped at the FCD ranger base and chatted to two of the rangers. I extended an invitation to them to come with us for the day. One of them jumped on the opportunity to get back in that area and advised us not to go down to Resumadero Camp road and instead to head to the Natural Arch. It made good sense. So we loaded up and headed out.

The road below Millianario Camp is ROUGH and only gets worse after Engineer’s Camp. It was at this point on the last trip that my transmission mount broke. Try finding a replacement! Ernesto and I had to rebuild it ourselves with a little Belizean ingenuity.

We reached Natural Arch around 9:30am. Immediately after exiting the vehicle we heard people hooting to each other…Xateros! Uh oh. Hmmm…what to do? We hung out for a few minutes and unloaded the gear. Guess we better get this show on the road and hope we don’t have any encounters by the river. Brad and I began to drag, or better yet, have the kayaks drag us down a very steep trail that descends from the top to the bottom of Natural Arch while Ernesto and the ranger stayed with the vehicle. After much physical effort we managed to reach the bottom with everything intact. The plan was to be gone for roughly 5 hours and return no later than 2 or 3pm.

No xateros at the bottom so that was a relief. We began our quick trip downstream. With the water slightly up it took maybe an hour to reach the nest. I half expected to see the tree chopped down by poachers or burned, because it is so huge. Thankfully, it was still standing. We took our gear up to the tree and with the new and improved slingshot, FINALLY zinged a line over the very top of the cavity. This nest cavity is just a top opening of the stump. There is one lateral branch but it sits too far below the nest to be of any use (tried that one on the last visit).

Brad climbing up the Ceiba.

Brad scaled the tree and stretched to barely be able to get the camera over the lip of the entrance to snap a few photos and some video. From the camera LCD screen, the nest looked empty. From the lack of poaching or predation evidence, it seemed like whatever young were there must have fledged. While up there, Brad went ahead and collected as much habitat data as possible and then descended. Working back in that area makes me nervous for obvious reasons. At one point I had to go check the boats because I heard something ‘knocking’ over there. Had no idea what it was.

Brad working at the top of the nest, and tree.

We ate a quick lunch of bollos in the kayaks and quickly paddled back upstream at noon. Two adult and one immature King Vultures were feeding on a Tapir carcass on the way up. We reached Natural Arch a little over an hour later and began the arduous ascent up that horribly steep trail. We each had to manhandle our kayaks up this beast. After getting maybe a third of the way up we changed our strategy and shuttled them up. We reached about three quarters of the way up when the fellas heard us and assisted getting them to the jeep.

Here I am in front of Natural Arch (photo courtesy of Brad).

That is when we heard of their ordeal. Apparently, the xateros were hanging out and around noon they began to sneak up to check out Ernesto and the ranger. The ranger acted quickly and ran at them screaming, “Alto, alto!” He fired a few shots in the air from his pistol which had the desired effect of causing the xateros to rapidly flee the area. Sounded like a hell of an adrenaline rush. All was well by the time we had returned. Glad we had the ranger with us!!!

We loaded up and Brad and I changed into dry clothes and got out of there. After dropping the ranger of at the base we headed back to down. Ernesto took over driving as I was completely exhausted from the day’s work. We paused for an hour at my friend Daniel’s place (we’re collaborating on a documentary of this project; check it out) before heading back to town.

Chillin' at Daniel's on the way home; Daniel, myself and Ernesto (photo courtesy of Brad).

The next morning, Brad and I were reviewing one of the videos shot down into the nest when I glimpsed a brief patch of red and white in the corner of the screen. We viewed it again, frame by frame…Two Chicks!!! Yes!!! They looked nearly fully developed. Cool.

A glimpse of two macaw chicks.

We received some hard rain yesterday so I am watching the weather before heading out on the next trip. If all works out well then we’ll be heading to the Macal River tomorrow.

Macaw marathon

Kristi, Ernesto, Brad and I headed out last Thursday to the Monkeytail Branch via Las Cuevas Research Station. As usual, the roads proved exciting and we briefly got stuck in one rut.

After dropping into the top of the river valley we unloaded the gear and headed down the trail with the kayaks on the 'yak cart' system. I went maybe two hundred feet down the road when the back left wheel fell off. Kristi put the wheel back on and within a hundred feet the wheel fell off again. Then again! Then both back wheels. This second attempt with the cart system was an utter failure and we abandoned the wheels and returned to dragging the kayaks. It takes a toll but it SO much faster and easier...especially downhill. No vines getting stuck on the axles or wheels getting jammed on small logs.

We reached the bottom to find the river at a nice level and moving at a non-terrifying speed. After enjoying a dip in the river with Kristi we ate lunch. We relaxed for a few before Ernesto and Kristi had to extract themselves from the Chiquibul and Brad and I headed downstream.

Within an hour we reached our only nest along the Monkeytail. We shot the line over and up Brad went to check the nest and retrieve the temperature loggers. As Brad ascended, I pulled on the rope to help him maneuver around some vine. In the process a dead branch dislodged and dropped. I never heard this and looked up just in time for it to smack my cheek...right below my eye!

Here I am with a nice shiner emerging.

The nest was empty and we thought that despite previous activity on the past two trips, there must be something wrong with the site. However, after the trip we were able to get better looks at the photos into the cavity and noticed macaw and raptor feathers in the cavity. Maybe there was some sort of struggle from a predation attempt. I now think that the nest cavity itself was suitable but that a predatory bird cut the breeding cycle short.

We paddled the rest of the afternoon, enjoying the fact that we weren't struggling with a sinking kayak or boulder fields. Smooth sailing...until we came around the bend. A large group of young xateros were relaxing on the bedrock apparently after bathing following a day's work. Two of them bolted into the jungle upon our arrival. 'No problema, no problema!,' I called out. I briefly explained our business as we passed by. The rest of them were uneasy but had calmed down so we passed without incident.

We traveled another km or so down the river before reaching a previously used campsite. We set up and bathed before relaxing for the evening...what a start!

Macaw pair courtesy of Brad.

We continued downstream the next morning...early...quickly reaching the confluence of the Raspaculo Branch and heading upstream. By 7:30am we reached our first nest. We unloaded our gear and went up to the nest tree only to find fresh climbing spike marks. I climbed up and confirmed that, indeed, no chicks were present and the nesting attempt had failed.

Here I am estimating canopy cover from the nest.

View down the river from the nest entrance.

We continued upstream, pushing hard against the fast current...bend after bend...km after km. I noticed that we were getting close to the next nest but both of us sensed that something wasn't right. Where was the nest tree. There was one with a cavity near the river but it didn't seem quite as it should. As Brad paddled up ahead he noticed the tree lying behind the riparian vegetation and stretching out to the river.

Poached tree chopped down.

Those poachers cut down the tree and then hacked a hole into the backside of the nest to reach the chicks...if they survived the fall. It was awful. Another great nest site gone...forever.

Cavity chopped into from the backside of the tree.

We headed upriver, we passed the former xatero camp, now reduced to a tangle of logs and vines. I was a bit nervous and was relieved to see this area uninhabited. Although, they might have been the ones that poached the nests on the way out...maybe.

Brad stapling a temperature datalogger into a nest.

We paddled hard and approached the southern tributary where we always find pairs feeding and socializing. They didn't disappoint. We even recognized a pair from their distinctive calls. Not far up I spotted a macaw head sticking out of a cavity. Yes! As we observed the other parent flew in and soon they were both on the cavity entrance. New nest...but it was late in the day so I decided to check it on the way back downstream and instead begin to look for a campsite over the next hour before the sun went down.

Macaw pair attempting a second clutch.

We looked and looked but of course that is when the terrain is either too steep and vegetation too thick or you are in a floodplain. So we kept going and going. Then I spotted a nice 'shelf' on the edge of a floodplain and hill. We paddled to the shore and pulled our kayaks up onto a bank. I grabbed my machete and chopped my way uphill to the shelf. Near the top I suddenly encountered a well-used trail. A few feet further was a large clearing with a recently-abandoned camp. It was like encountering a small trash dump in the middle of paradise...very weird and creepy. The hut was still there with a tarp on it. I didn't stay to investigate but instead got the hell out of there and informed Brad before we made a hasty retreat into our kayaks and upstream.

Relaxing at camp (photo courtesy of Brad).

We finally found a decent camp up a moderate slope below a small rapid. As Brad shuttled gear up the slope, I began to clear the campsite. We soon had it set up and were back down in the river getting cleaned up before relaxing and having dinner.

The following morning we headed up to Cushtabani, the terminus of our upstream paddling and the residence of three nests. We stopped at the first one to find it abandoned and failed, apparently from predation. We skipped the middle one and continued to the farthest nest in order to find a good lunch spot. We were absolutely famished!

Angry macaw chick.

I climbed the next nest. What an exhausting tree. The bottom half is covered in a tangled thicket of vines. Brad had to use all of his strength to pull me to the side of the vines as I ascended, which is really hard to do with diagonal tension on the rope! I was whipped before I reached the halfway point. After several breaks I reached the cavity and put my hand on the entrance lip. Just as I pulled my face close to the nest entrance a large, nearly fully mature chick lunged at me! It hissed and snapped...reflexes took over and I let go! I then swung back over and snapped a few photos. Two fully grown chicks! Yes!!! There wasn't enough room to install the temperature logger in there so they will need to wait for the next visit.

Wary macaw chick.

We packed up, fell into the river for a few minutes and chugged a liter of water before heading back to the second nest. Brad climbed this one...straight through the vines. At the top he stretched his arm into the cavity entrance and heard something scratching up to the entrance. A large chick was trying to go after his hand as he took photos of the two chicks in the nest. Looks like we're having some success at the top of the Raspaculo Branch.

Brad taking a photo into a nest cavity.

We stumbled back to the kayaks and, again, submerged ourselves into the river. Then the race against daylight was on. We wanted to make it back to the previous camp. We pushed hard and made it just before dark.

The next morning we began the much more enjoyable trip DOWNSRTREAM. We stopped at the nest we skipped a day and a half before. The parents were nearby but not at the nest. I climbed this one but there were no eggs or chicks in the nest...weird. I collected habitat data and installed temperature dataloggers before descending.

View into a deep nest cavity.

After reaching the ground, Brad noticed two broken eggs below the nest. One of them was empty but the other had a nearly full grown embryo and it wasn't more than a day old. This nest failed between the time we spotted it and when we returned...sadness. We collected habitat data and moved downstream.

Dead embryo below the nest.

We made it past the confluence with Monkeytail Branch and camped for the night near the river. A starry night was welcome and a nice breeze kept us cool as night came upon us. The next morning we quickly reached the nest at Codd's Camp. Luckily, an apparent poaching attempt had failed and the chopping on the tree didn't deter the macaws from continuing to nest.

Poaching footholds cut into the buttress.

Attempt by poachers to chop down the tree.

We headed down to the next two nests.

Macaw pair attending their nest.

The first one had obviously been climbed in the past few days but the nest only had eggs so they left it, probably to return another days.

Two macaw eggs.

View from the nest.

Around the next bend we found a similar story. Poachers had climbed and even left trash at the site. After multiple attempts at shooting a line over, at a steep angle that had the metal ammo plummeting down upon us on repeated attempts, I got the line over an ascended.

More damage by poachers.

The parents sat nearby and screamed on occasion. I was pleasantly surprised to find four eggs in the nest. After seeing this I quickly installed a temperature logger and descended.

Four eggs.

But not before taking a few photos of the parents...

Parent at the nest.

Parents at nest, watching me.

Here I am feeling a bit tired.

We were both physically and mentally, and emotionally drained...the sun was beating down upon us with no relieve to be found on the reservoir. We paddled somewhat lethargically down to the spring at the confluence with the Macal. After pulling up under the waterfall there and getting a refreshing 'shower' and filling up with water we decided to forgo camping and the spring and heading for Ballerina for the night. Then we would only have to paddle to the opposite bank in the morning to check out that nest and call it a trip.

It worked well, with the wind to our back and good company to make the arduous trip a bit more enjoyable. It's funny to see us crossing the reservoir during the afternoon...all covered up with bandanas, etc. Look like banditos.

We enjoyed a nice evening and a relaxing morning the next day before heading over to the nest. It was just a rediculous time getting the line over the tree. After we finally did, Brad got nailed in the back by a falling branch. But we were successful in getting the rope secured in a good spot and Brad climbed up. Despite the recent activity and the presence of a lot of feathers in the area, the nest lacked any young.

Brad at the nest across from Ballerina Rd.

We paddled back across and relaxed for an hour before getting picked up by Ernesto and our friend Carlos. A hell of a long journey, with much sadness, but it was good to FINALLY get back to Cuishtabani.

Now on to Chiquibul Branch...