The Resplendent Quetzal Comes to the Talbot County Free Library

by Bill Peak

I've only seen one in my life. And I had to move heaven and earth to see that one. First there was the flight to Miami, where we changed planes, then a long flight across the Caribbean, and then south over Nicaragua and the isthmus of Costa Rica, where, finally, we touched down again in the latter country's capital, San Jose. It took us several days to find a bus that would take us to Monte Verde.

Monte Verde. It means Green Mountain in Spanish, but it means so much more to anyone interested in Mother Nature's various ecosystems, for Monte Verde is home to one of the rarest: a cloud forest. Cloud forests occur only in tropical regions on mountains close by the sea. The heat of the sun bearing down on the water's surface generates massive amounts of evaporation. When this warm, evaporated water strikes the cooler air of the mountaintops, it immediately condenses, forming clouds that drape the forested slopes like big fluffy boas. Standing in one of these forests, you can watch clouds pass between you and the tree limbs overhead.

But back to that bus. When we arrived at the corner in San Jose where we had been told we could catch it, we were surprised to discover it was just an old school bus, looking rather the worse for wear. But, hey, it was supposed to be an adventure, right? So Melissa and I clambered aboard along with a few other trekkers and an assortment of Costa Ricans loaded down with purchases they had made in town.

We had been told the trip to Monte Verde would take four hours, the first two driving north from San Jose to the mountain, the last two driving up the winding, vertiginous, and far too narrow road that led to the mountaintop. Those last two hours Melissa had to hold my hand; I've never been so scared in my life. On our left, as we climbed, the mountain rose from the side of the road in a steep slope, no verge at all, while on our right the world dropped away beneath us, at first by tens of feet, then by scores, then by numbers I didn't want to think about, our ancient school bus lumbering around the increasingly acute switchbacks like a dull-witted and none-too-nimble Brontosaurus.

Toward the end of that drive, as it grew dark and our driver turned on his one working headlight, I remember someone pointing out the side of the bus and exclaiming in Spanish. I looked that way and, at a considerable distance, perhaps fifty miles away, glimpsed the unmistakable silhouette of a volcano, its crater glowing red through the night.

I remember at one point, while wandering through a stand of blue bamboo—each cane as big around as my thigh—Melissa and I came upon an opening where we could look down on the ridge that marks the continental divide, a clear, steady breeze from the Caribbean side turning, as it spilled across to the Pacific, instantly to cloud. An indigo wasp as big as my hand hovered for a moment before my face. Howler monkeys called.

And then, on a limb about ten feet above us, we saw something that, at first glance, looked more like a brightly colored Chinese figurine than something alive. It was a Trogon, a male Resplendent Quetzal to be exact, its body over a foot long, its tail adding another two feet to that length. You catch your breath, you tell yourself it's real, that this is really happening, I'm really seeing this, and then you feast your eyes.

The bird's head is covered with soft green feathers that rise, front to back, in a feathery, Mohawk-like crest. An iridescent blue collar and bib decorate the bird's neck and upper breast, the bib resting upon dark red feathers which, in turn, as they descend over the bird's chest and belly, change to a bright, almost electric crimson. The animal's back and sides are covered with feathers that appear either blue or green, depending on the light. Several of these darker feathers extend out around the bird's chest and belly to point out and accentuate the crimson. But it is the tail that is the bird's greatest splendor. At more than twice the length of the body, it is long, flexible, and blue-green, supported anteriorly by chalky white undertail coverts. Resplendent indeed.

When, finally, almost disdainfully, the bird rose from its branch and flew off into the surrounding clouds, that magnificent tail trailing after it, it was like watching a minor Mayan god take flight.

On Tuesday, November 9, at 6 p.m., the Talbot County Free Library, in collaboration with the Talbot County Bird Club and the Pickering Creek Audubon Center, will offer a Zoom presentation on the Resplendent Quetzal by Dr. Alan Poole, an Associate of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology and, for 22 years, editor of the Birds of America life history series.

Dr. Poole's talk, entitled The Resplendent Quetzal: Gem Bird of the Mayan World, will be an intersection of bird ecology, ancient Mayan history, and conservation in the Americas. I wouldn't miss it for the world, and I hope you will join us either in the Easton library's main meeting room (seating capacity, due to Covid, limited to 25), or by registering for the Zoom program at:

https://us06web.zoom.us/meeting/register/tZAkcOyprT4qHdLINIdvXAjABHcTOKJSyALF

When you register you will receive a confirmation email and, prior to the program, a reminder email that will contain your Zoom link. Hope to see you there!