After a couple of years without a big owling trip, I planned to visit Ecuador and the Galapagos. Because of the covid pandemic I wanted to have a fairly predictable and safe trip. I planned on using guides, which definitely helped me find a lot of owls in a short period of time.
Nov 19th My phone wakes me at 430am. It's a terrible stormy morning. I drive Tui's old Toyota in the rain out to the MAX station. My hot coffee fogs up the windshield as the torn wiper blades struggle to keep up with the rain. I park up in the Laurelhurst Neighborhood and walk over the noisy overpass to the Hollywood MAX station. This is a sad place, where Jeremy Christian, murdered two men a few years ago. Today a guy raps for me songs about inequity and life on the streets. We eventually part ways, he takes the Westbound train downtown and me, the Eastbound train for the airport. My train is full of people who have nowhere else to spend the night.
I arrive at the airport and everything is regular. I fly out to Houston, and change planes and am in Quito before midnight. I am too excited to sleep, so call Tui and the boys while walking around the outside of the airport. It's a lovely cool night out. Quito is miles away, but the city lights silhouette the Andes, which surround this place to the East and the West.
The airport has surprisingly accommodating padded benches and I am able to sleep for three or four hours.
Nov 20th I wake hungry, so before doing anything else I treat myself to an expensive airport cafe breakfast. Entering the Galapagos is almost like entering a different county, and so my baggage is checked for bio-hazards and I pay a tax before boarding a LATAM flight.
The jet stops at Guayaquil to pick up more passengers, then heads out across the Pacific to the tiny island of Baltra. Once inside the terminal there are health declarations to complete and national park fees to pay. Once outside, I meet my guide, Dan Fitter. He looks and dresses like a safari guide straight out of Africa. Dan was born in the Galapagos, and works as a guide, author and photographer. He turns out to be a really nice guy, and a good person to talk to about all things Galapagos (not just birds). Dan can be reached at galapagosvirtualtours@gmail.com or Whatsapp 593 996431010.
We take a bus across Baltra, which is a very dry island, with the remains of an American air base slowly succumbing to the elements. A huge land iguana crosses in front of us, bringing the bus to a halt. Once the iguana crossed the road, the bus continues, eventually descending down some switchbacks to a ferry terminal. There we take a small boat across a narrow, beautiful passage of vivid azure water to Santa Cruz Island. On Santa Cruz, Dan has arranged a Chevy pick up as wheels for the next couple of days. Crossing Santa Cruz, we start on the dry, cactus-covered side of the island. Near the high point of Santa Cruz we transition into a moist cloud forest, then descend into an agricultural zone that's surprisingly green and fertile.
Our first goal is to look for Galapagos barn owl. This is an endemic form of the very widespread barn owl group. Santa Cruz has many lava tubes, and the owls roost in them. Unfortunately the lava tubes are popular tourist attractions, and the owls quickly move on to quieter roosting sites if disturbed. Dan takes me to a newly discovered lava tube, in the hope that the resident owls wont yet have moved on. We take a hike through some wet scrubby forest to the tube, passing my first giant tortoise. What a remarkable and calm creature. When we get too close, it retracts it's head, but not before exhaling (to make room for the head) with a loud whoosh.
We arrive at the cave entrance, to a promising scene, whitewash and a couple of barn owl feathers. Unfortunately the owls are not in their usual roost. I scout around the lava tube, hoping to find them elsewhere. Dan then finds a pair of Galapagos barn owls roosting in a tangle of tree limbs outside the tube. What a pair! The female owl is incredibly dark for a barn owl and very exotic. She is cocoa colored, with white spotting on the upper parts and dark spots below. He is much paler, but still darker than American barn owls, with a buffy-gray facial disc, and white breast that is quite heavily spotted. They are really small owls, with proportionally long beaks and long powerful feathered legs. We watch them for over half an hour. Occasionally one will open an eye and peer at us.
We return to the truck feeling lucky. On the way Dan points out Galapagos mockingbirds, flycatchers and finches. Our final goal is to find Galapagos short-eared owl. Like the barn owl, this is another cosmopolitan taxa, that has a unique island form that inhabits the Galapagos. We drive to Media Luna trailhead, where the pastures transition into natural upland vegetation that covers a series of small volcanoes. Here short eared owls hunt for storm petrels when they return to their burrows after dark. During the day the owls loaf around on dead snags or rest in short grass on the side of the trail.
Before climbing we eat a great packed lunch that Dan kindly provided, then set off up the wet misty slopes. We spend the hike scanning snags, of which their are thousands, for owls. We see many moss owls, clumps of moss that grow from the snags, but no feathered owls. We do hear a lot of Galapagos rails and see some yellow warblers, medium-billed and warbling finches. Soon the drizzle and fog really sets in, and it's hard to search the distant slopes. We make a plan to return tomorrow and hike up to the summit.
I get dropped off at Casa del Lago, a nice guesthouse in the center of town. I'm exhausted after two night's of bad sleep, so I sleep for an hour, then force myself to go out in search of food. I feel a lot better after a plate of pasta and a coke. I had a plan of walking the mangroves in search of barn owls, but a very impressive gate keeps me out.
Nov 21st Dan and I had planned to meet at 8am, so I enjoy the luxury of a late start. I eat a good breakfast at a street-side cafe. Dan and I then set of in the Chevy truck back to the Media Luna trailhead. While taking a side trail, we flush a snip from a small pool. I later check ebird, and there are no snipe records for the Galapagos, so this was a rare bird. We search a big beautiful caldera where Galapagos petrels nest. Unfortunately there are no loitering owls. We meet some park employees setting rat traps. They tell us that they occasionally see the owls at night. Undeterred we hike some more side trails, searching many, snags. We also try playing a recording of a distressed rabbit, in an effort to draw in a hungry owl. The rabbit cries attract many song birds, including a woodpecker finch.
Dan searching for Galapagos short eared owls in the highlands of Santa Cruz
We hike up to a col, that overlooks the leeward side of the island, and from there up to a small volcanic peak, the last stretch was really steep. We eat a blustery lunch on the summit. On the way back we find a Galapagos rail and flush a white-cheeked pintail from a small mountain pool. And we scrutinize a thousand moss owls. Dan tells me a great story about crossing the Atlantic twice in old sailing boats which his dad brought out to start an ecotourism business in the Galapagos.
Our back up plan for the owls, is to visit Los Gremalos (the twins). These are a pair of large forested sinkholes in the highlands. The forest here is quite thick, so finding perched owls will be a challenge. Alas we find some Galapagos doves and the usual song birds, but nothing else.
Having studied ebird, I suggest the municipal dump, which has a couple of records of the owls. We descend from the cool highlands into the dry forest of the leeward side of Santa Cruz. The dump is not horrific, but it does smell pretty bad. A small fire fills the air with the acrid smell of burning plastic. A gang of cattle egrets feasts on the contents of some torn plastic bags. A slender feline slinks up a steep earthen bank. We follow the stray, and escape the worst of the smell on a bluff above the dump. There we scan for owls.
The sun sets, and the egrets disperse in twos and threes to their roost. Several fantastic Galapagos hoary bats quarter the dump in search of insects. Hungry mosquitos commence their feast. Once it's too dark to scan the dump, we descend from our hill top perch and walk around hoping to happen upon an owl. I suggest the distressed rabbit call again. While I am still setting up the speaker, Dan alerts me to a curious owl that flew in to the rabbit cries. The owl hovers briefly, then lands in a bush at the edge of the dump. Another joins it nearby. Wow! The Galapagos short-eared owl, is a fantastic looking creature. Smaller than the mainland kin, it's much more richly colored, being rufescent with very heavy dark chocolate-colored mottling. The eyes are bright yellow, and feet and bill formidable. The overall impression is of a dark, and richly patterned owl, more like a stygian owl than a mainland short-eared owl. We enjoyed fantastic close views of this pair of curious owls. Even as we leave they follow us out of the dump, perching on the ground and fence, at times just a few feet away.
I am thrilled. For the whole drive back to town I just feel happy and content. I celebrate with a beer and pasta dinner.
Nov 22nd. I wake at sunrise and walk around the harbor. Marine iguanas, pelicans and Galapagos fur seals loaf around, indifferent to the people around them. After breakfast I set out in a quest for cash, but seven ATMs later I give up. Fortunately I have just enough to pay my debt to Dan. He runs me over to the ferry terminal, where we say goodbye.
The journey back to Quito is uneventful. At the airport I meet Mauricio, a very capable independent birding guide. He is a slender guy, with an intense, focused face and sharp mustache. Mauricio can be reached at mau_ruano@hotmail.com or Whatsapp 0984015054. Europcar is unable to honor my car reservation, and the other companies don't have cars. Fortunately Mauricio has his own wheels, so we agree on a price, and we use his car. This turns out to be great. Mauricio is a safe driver, and he has a Chevy SUV that is a lot more competent than the car I had tried to reserve. On the drive Mauricio tells me he lives out in a tiny community at the edge of the Amazon basin. His parents had fled there from South Colombia, displaced by the conflict between the government and the FARC. Mauricio started working as a trucker, the transitioned into a driver for bird-tour companies, and now works as bird guide. He's seen about 1550 species in Ecuador, and with a smile will insist his favorite is "all of them".
Mauricio has a clear plan. We drive out to Papelacta Pass high over the East side of the Andes. Just beyond the pass we stop by a small lake. It's now late in the day, and really freezing. We walk along the abandoned old road along the lake shore.
Above us there's a nice patch of mountane forest. We search the forest for Andean Pygmy owl, a species that I have heard before in Abra Patricia, Peru, but never seen. Today I don't break my unlucky streak with this widespread owl, and we return to the car at dusk empty handed.
We press on driving for another hour down the East slope of the Andes to Hospedaje Nancy, a nice roadside guesthouse near Guacamayos Ridge. Nancy has a plate of hot food waiting for us when we arrive. After eating our fill we head out to Guacamayos Ridge, a temperate forested, ridge in search of white-throated screech owl. This is a bird that I have seen in Peru, but only once. Our first stop is noisy, with passing cars, and a nearby stream. We hear a screech owl call a couple of times, but are never able to locate it. We drive up to a parking area, and set out on an ancient Inca paved trail. We soon find a pair of white-throated owls singing. It's a magical place. The forest is tall and complex, full of ferns and bromalids. Above the sky is full of stars. We hustle down the trail to the owls, and after some searching we eventually spotlight one owl.
Back at Nancy's I have time to call Tui and the boys. Later, I regret the two cups of coffee that I had had with dinner, and I am awake for ages before I can finally sleep.
Nov 23rd I am up at 530am. Nancy cooks us a delicious breakfast, and we are soon back at the Inca trail. Our goal this morning is Andean pygmy owl, a species only irregularly reported from this location.
View from the Inca trail towards the Amazon basin
We are both surprised to hear an Andean pygmy owl almost right away. Soon this fantastic little owl is perched up, well below the canopy. It's a brown phase bird, with piercing yellow eyes. and yellowish bill. The upper parts are generally brown, with many fine white spots on the crown, and larger white spots on the mantle, and wing coverts. The tail is prominently banded white. The feet are yellowish, and strong. The chest and flanks brownish with large white spots, the center of the belly is white with brownish streaks. The song is a series of 5-10 rapid whistled toots, and an occasional long quavering note.
Happy, we return to the Chevy and continue down the road toward Tena, then turning East on the Loreto/Coca road. By the time we reach Loreto, an unremarkable town at the edge of the Amazon basin, the skies have turned leaden and it's started to pour. One of my less obvious targets of the trip is the ucayalae form of ferruginous pygmy owl, which has a slightly more hollow song than other races and has been suggested as a possible split. Undeterred by the lightning and rain, Mauricio pulls off the highway and onto a side road. We take shelter under a bus stop. From our improvised blind we find a white edged oriole, a bird on the wrong side of the Andes, but no owls. We drive on, further east into the Amazonian basin, past Coca, an oil center, and on to Limoncocha.
At the edge of the community we stop in some open pastures and try again for ferruginous pygmy owl. This time we get a calling bird. The owl remains stubbornly in a thicket, and we have to creep through some heliconias before Mauricio is able to find the owl. It's a red phase bird. I can really only see it's head, what's really noticeable is that the spotting is a pinkish cinnamon, rather than white. Bill and eyes are yellow, and crown rich orange.
In Limoncocha, we meet Pablo, a really awesome local guy, who has built a couple of cabins in his village and knows how to find many of the more challenging local birds. Pablo can be reached on Whatapp at 981270215 or 09989943.
It's late, and we are really hungry, but we get caught up in Pablo's enthusiasm and head off to find a gang of four tropical screech owls all roosting together on the same branch. Sure enough, Pablo shows us a little group of screech owls all clustered together. All are red-phase birds.
There is one restaurant in the village, where we are served good lentil soup and fresh juice. We then drive out along a gravel road through primary forest. Pablo has cut a pretty long trail through the forest, which we explore. It's well before dusk, but we decide to try for Northern tawny-bellied screech owl. We separate, and Pablo and I both end up hearing a pair of owls from a thicket. What follows is a tough cat and mouse game, as we try and pursue the owls deep into this dark thorny thicket. We get down on our hands and knees to crawl under a mass of thick vines, hands in the soft dark earth. As we advance, the owls retreat. This goes on for an hour or more. Mauricio and Pablo, don't give up, so I follow them through the thicket, scanning for screech owls. Eventually Pablo calls us over. Triumphantly he has found a singing Northern tawny-bellied screech owl.
The owl has a very pronounced bill for a screech owl, and a deep facial disk and long ear tufts. The eyes are quite brown, (but in the photo a flashlight makes them appear orange). The bill is greenish. The buffy eye-brows extend up the ear tufts. The upper parts are dark brown with tawny-buff bars on the flight feathers. The upper breast is densely streaked with dark bars, and lower down is a lovely tawny color with a few dark centered barred feathers. Feet are grayish-brown. The pair of owls calls back and forth, a fairly rapid series of soft toots. One bird (the male?) has a deeper voice than the other. We also get to see a black-spotted bare-eye in the same thicket.
We hike Pablo's trail a little further as the last light fades. We try for a crested owl, but find none. I have great memories of being shown a roosting crested owl by my fried Shaun, in the Choco forest of Western Ecuador. The Amazonian population is isolated by the Andes and is a little different. I am keen to see one of these Amazonian birds. First we return to the cabins, where Pablo's sister has cooked up a really fancy dinner for us. Mauricio and I are both coffee junkies, and we both indulge in a couple of cups of the dark strong stuff, despite the late hour. We set out again, driving to a farm track. We walk down an earthen trail, past a couple of small farms. Pablo calls out to the silent occupants inside, announcing our intentions. We walk through fields and small remnants of forest. Another Northern tawny-bellied screech owl sings. We spotlight a giant potoo, far far away on a lone snag.
Undeterred we drive out to another location. We walk along the edge of a large field and up onto a small forested hill. We hear black-banded owl. The bird is way the fuck up, in a truly giant tree. Even with a powerful light it takes a lot of walking around the tree and scanning the foliage high above before we find the owl. The owl is so high that even with binoculars it's hard to make out the thin white lines on it's underparts. I do see it's massive orange-yellow bill, the color of egg yolk and the fabulous red reflection from its eyes.
We also hear a soft call from a crested owl. The bird only calls a few times. It's also perched way up in a fucking staggeringly tall tree. We walk around and around the tree, aiming the flashlight at every angle to get an advantage, but still can't find it. I then see the owl fly over a clearing. We pursue it, and come to a couple of farms. Eventually Mauricio, finds an incredible crested owl, perched high, but exposed beneath the canopy of a big tree. What a fantastic bird. It's a big chestnut colored owl with extravagant white eye brows that extend dramatically into it's ear tufts.
Happy and tired we return to the car. What an amazing day. Six owl species seen and four new taxa.
Nov 24th. We are up at 6am after a short night. After a delicious breakfast we head out to an ant-pitta feeding station Pablo has created. In the densest of thickets a white-lored ant-pitta emerges to eat some larvae. We run Pablo back to his place and say goodbye.
Myself, Mauricio and Pablo, standing in front of one of Pablo's beautifully crafted cabins.
Mauricio and I head back towards the Andes, stopping along the side road where we had tried for ferruginous pygmy-owl yesterday in the torrential rain. It's sunny today. We hike a short trail into the forest and find a plumbeous hawk. Back on the road we find a pair of singing pygmy owls. Today we get great views of one owl, perched very low in a small tree. The owl glares at us with fierce yellow eyes. It's nostrils bare, and erect, like two tiny volcanoes.
We climb though the foothills West of Loreto until we are forced to stop at a landslide. After the road is cleared by a front end loader, several tractor trailers struggle up the hill past us. A couple of times the tractor unit lurches sideways in the mud. We hold our breath, hoping that they won't get stuck. Fortunately they all make it through, and then we get our turn to cross the mud. After passing Guayamacas Ridge we turn off the main highway and up a short road to San Isidro Lodge. The lodge is located in humid forests on the East slope of the Andes at 2000m. It's an upscale kind of place, and I felt a little out of place there. Still everything was really nice, and well set up for birding. San Isidro Lodge is famous for the "San Isidro owl", which is an ornithological mystery. The owl has been proposed as a hybrid between black and white and black-banded owls, or a subspecies of either. To me neither explanation quite makes sense. Black and white owl inhabits much lower elevations on the West slope, so is unlikely to hybridize with black-banded owl, at this relatively high location on the East slope. For the same reason, it would be surprising for these owls to be a subspecies of the black and white owl. Regular black-banded owl, occurs just 20km to the East, at a much lower elevation. It would seem incongruous for two subspecies to occur with adjoining ranges, but at different elevations. Regardless of the taxonomy of these owls, I wanted to see one.
After checking in, Mauricio and I take a walk along the entrance road where we enjoyed lots of typical Andean forest birds. An intense cloudburst drives us back to the cabins. By the time the rains have passed, it was almost dark. I head out to the lodge's deck, which is the best place to see the owls. Thousands of moths are drawn to the lights by the deck, this in turn attracts the owls which feed on the moths. First we hear a distant owl singing from the wet forest. We take a walk, but can't locate it. When we arrive back at the deck, the owl is perched up on a dead snag. Wow, what a big, beautiful owl. It has stronger white barring on the underparts than a black-banded, but less so than a black and white. The bill is impressive and yellow. The dark eyes catch our torchlight and reflect a startling red color. The upper parts are also a little less dark than black banded owl (more charcoal, less black). The call is a series of 3-4 soft hoots. Brilliant! What a fantastic bird.
We eat a fancy dinner then head to the entrance road to look for cinnamon screech owl and rufous-banded owl. We don't find any screech owls, and end up hearing a pair of rufous-banded owls. After about an hour of searching, we see two beautiful rufous-banded owls. I have seen this bird several times, and just love their dark eyes, tawny and chocolate plumage and lovely voices.
Nov 25th. I wake before sunrise and walk down to the deck. Below there are thousands of dead and dying insects, that have beaten themselves against the lights. Dozens of warblers, tanagers, brushfinches and a few trogons are feasting on these insects. Eventually one of the lodge employees takes Mauricio and I down to an antpitta feeding station, where after a brief wait, we get to see a white-bellied antpitta bounce in along a mossy log and feed on some larvae.
We wolf down breakfast and a couple of strong black coffees, then hit the road. Our last big target of the trip is cloud forest pygmy-owl. This bird occupies a similar elevation to ours, but on the West side of the Andes. Only described in 1999, this unobtrusive tiny owl occupies a small range in SW Columbia and NW Ecuador. We drive up Papalacta pass, stopping briefly to check out three Andean Condors, just beyond the summit. Skirting past the North side of Quito we pass Mitad del Mundo, which marks the equator, before descending down towards Mindo on the West slope of the Andes. Mauricio has a secret spot for this owl, just above Mindo. By the time we reach the area, it's raining. We splash down a muddy dirt track, driving through wet cow shit and brown puddles. We pull up in a nice remnant of forest. While exploring the road we flush an adult and juvenile pauraque. The later flutters weakly across the road, almost like a big moth. We hike a steep trail into the forest. Almost immediately Mauricio hears an owl! I spot it flying, tennis-ball shaped between two trees. After a lot of scrutiny of the canopy, Mauricio eventually finds the bird, perched high above. It's really high, and the weather is misty, so the view isn't great. I am able to see it's short-tail, light belly and rich chestnut-mauve breast and flanks. The bird is agitated, and has flared it's false ear tufts. Wow! What a great find. We eventually return to the Chevy, hoping for a level view of the owl from the track. We hear the owl sing occasionally, a series of paired, high pitched toots, but fail to relocate it despite a lot of searching.
Eventually we leave, resolving to return tomorrow, when hopefully there is less mist. We descend further, to Milpe, a subtropical forest reserve. The reserve is managed by Edison, a really warm young guy. It's mid afternoon, so we take a walk to reconnoiter the trails. Along the way we find a scaly throated leaf-tosser.
After another really great meal, we head out to a moth trap, where black and white owls are attracted to the moths. We get to check out some exquisite, huge, soft moths. Instead of black and white, we hear a mottled owl. It takes a while to track it down, as it's singing from low in some really dense trees. This is the first time I have seen this species in Ecuador.
We then head on down a farm track in search of black and white owl. About half a kilometer away we encounter a pair of singing black and white owls, and get good views of these bold owls.
Black and white owl by Mauricio (note huge bill and talons)
Their eyes, reflect red in the flashlight, adding to the drama of these owls. Their underparts have far more white than the San Isidro owl.
We had intentions of heading back to the cloud forest pygmy-owl site to look for Colombian screech owl, but discover that the Chevy has been locked in. Happy with the day we don't have much choice, but to settle in for the night.
Nov 26th. We are up early, and enjoy Edison's excellent coffee. After breakfast we thank Edison, and then drive back up to the cloud forest pygmy-owl site, hoping for better looks. We park up and head down a steep slippery trail. Almost immediately we hear an owl. I am able to find the tiny owl high in the canopy. We stay on the bird for over an hour, watching it catch a large insect on a mossy trunk, preen and scratch itself. What a fantastic little owl. I am really struck by it's tennis-ball proportions. The bill is olive-yellow, eyes are brilliant yellow. The upper parts brownish rufous, with a hint of mauve; heavily spotted with fine white spots. The cheeks are also finely spotted white. The chest and flanks are a similar color to the upper-parts, perhaps a little lighter. The belly is pale. About a half dozen times, the owl flies to a new perch, but we are able to relocate it, until we are both satisfied, and are arms are tired from holding our binoculars.
Happy, we return to the Chevy, and head up the road towards Quito. Just before Mitad del Mundo, we turn North to Pululahua, a huge dormant volcanic crater. We climb on a dirt road past factories and farms, then reach a col. From there we descend to the crater along a steep series of switchbacks. The views are fantastic.
From the center of the crater, a new volcanic cone has emerged. Several times on the decent we stop and try for Andean pygmy-owl. One time, we end up several hundred meters from the unlocked car. We hear another car pull up, next to the Chevy. We both think thieves, and run back up the hill. Soon breathless from the elevation, we round the corner to find a couple taking photos of each other. It takes me a minute to gulp down enough air to catch my breath again. At the bottom of the crater we try again for Andean pygmy-owl, and in the process hear several Leymebamba antpittas. We eventually give in, and head up to a small community to find place to stay. We settle on a nice resort, that offers camping and cabins to folks from Quito who come out here for the weekend. The afternoon follows a now familiar pattern of a big lunch, some reconnaissance for good owling trails and a break for a ninety minute rainstorm.
Just before sunset, I take myself for a walk, and find a pair of lovely burrowing owls perched on a rock in a pasture. After dark, we set off in search of buff-fronted owl. I have seen this bird before, they are fabulous, and I would like to see it again. We hear a couple of very indistinct responses, but they never call for long enough for us to locate the birds. We do hear 4-6 white throated screech owls, and eventually get two see a couple of birds.
While stalking the screech owls, we hear a striped owl, another owl that I have just seen once, and would like to see again. Alas, the bird is calling from some distance away, and we are never able to locate it. We walk around some farm roads, and get a couple of fly by views of some burrowing owls, and also hear a pair of rufous-banded owls. Our owling is somewhat marred by the abundance of farm dogs, which keep us from exploring the forest near the farms. We say good night at 1030pm, and after that I return for a couple more hours of owling on my own, but all I find is more burrowing owls and lots of angry dogs. I finally call it a night at 1am.
Nov 27th. After breakfast, Maricio and I headed out to look for pygmy-owls and Leymebamba antpittas (a rare bird here, which Mauricio wanted to document with a photo). On the drive out we stopped at the burrowing owl rock.
After much scrutiny of a viney tangle I was able to find an antpitta for Mauricio to photograph. (If I understood the back story, Mauricio had submitted a report of the antpittas from this site on ebird, but it had been rejected by the reviewer. Being a very experienced birder, Mauricio was a little hurt by this. Today he had his photo, and could submit an irrefutable report on ebird).
Despite our best efforts we were unable to find a roosting great-horned owl on the volcanic cliffs or a calling Andean pygmy-owl from the scrubby temperate forest. Still very happy with the success of our trip we returned to Quito. After saying goodbye and thank you to Mauricio, I busied my self with getting a covid test, then caught my flights via Houston, to Portland.
