Humedal Tres Puentes

A short walk, or an even shorter cab ride from where I am staying lies the humble urban wetland of Punta Arenas, Humedal Tres Puentes. Boasting an impressive array of species, I was quick to pay the wetland a visit on my arrival, and have since gone back for more. At first glance, the area appears tired and worn, fringed by ugly metal fencing, garbage littering the edge, and cars whizzing by disrupting any idea of peace and quiet. But on closer inspection, one starts to spot the numerous Upland Geese, some with chicks in tow, the hundreds of ducks poking about, and snipes displaying far up in the sky. Their whirring sounds rise above the sound of car engines as air rushes through their feathers signaling that they deem themselves masters of their domain.

This part of Chile does not have an abundance of songbirds, but the non-passerines (big birds) certainly fill the void. The sheldgeese are particularly striking. When one thinks of birding Chile, they come to mind. The common one, the Upland Goose, displays stark sexual dimorphism. The male, black and white catches the eye, but the female is equally as stunning. Among the flocks of Upland Geese, the odd Ashy-headed and Ruddy-headed Goose can be observed. The latter is endangered in Chile, and I was lucky enough to spot up to four individuals one day. In their shadows, Chiloe Wigeon, Crested Duck, Yellow-billed Pintail and Yellow Billed Teal dabble away. The odd Red Shoveler, and numerous White-tufted Grebes vie for attention, while Flying Steamer Ducks steam across the open water, their silly looking chicks diving away. Not to be ignored, coots stake their presence at Tres Puentes. Chile has a surprising diversity of coots, and while they are at the bottom of the list in terms of my favorite birds (you've seen one, you've seen them all), I did take time to enjoy the many nesting Red-gartered Coots, black downy young bobbing behind, and the odd White-winged Coot.

 Upland Goose

Upland Geese

Crested Duck

Red-gartered Coot

While viewing some of these bird through a fence can be a pain, it did provide nice perching places for Correndera Pipits, Chimango Caracara, and even allowed me a close approach to a Short-eared Owl! The abundance of large, ground-nesting birds can be attributed in large part to the fence. The fencing is set in place to prevent disturbance of nesting birds, an effort by the local ornithological/environmental group to keep out stray dogs and people.

Correndera Pipit

Short-eared Owl taken through my binoculars.

Each time I go, I see new things, though they number fewer and fewer each time. However, it provides me with a great location to practice my nascent photography skills. Rather, my nascent digiscoping skills. I recently bought a case for my cellphone that has an adapter that fits the eye-piece of my scope. By slipping it on, I can take photos with my phone through my scope. While unwieldy, and not the best, I am able to capture the odd bird.

I have already become attached to the place where Black-faced Ibis snack on invertebrates with their long curved bills, and Magellanic Oysterctachers, with their colourful bills and wide-eyes, prance around in the grass. Chilean Swallows, with their white rumps, remain active even in the hollowing wind and the occasional blowing snow. Their North American cousin, the Barn Swallow, seems almost as much at ease, though if they wanted snow, they could have stayed in Canada instead of migrating all the way to southern Chile.

 Magellanic Oystercatchers

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Chilean Swallow

 Barn Swallow

Black-faced Ibis

I usually try and add a bit of humor to my posts, but I think my digiscoping is killing my wit. You can now just look at pictures instead of having to read my rambling words. At least I know a few of my friends will welcome the change!

Laguna Los Palos

Queridos amigos,

I promise I am having fun and not simply working. While my Canadian friends are gearing up for winter, the austral summer is gearing up here in southern Chile. In that vein, following a meeting with the local bird group here in Punta Arenas, a group of us went out to Laguna los Palos near Punta Areans to try and see nesting Magellanic Plovers, an iconic species of the region.

With four trusty companions, the 5 of us drove north from Punta Arenas excited by the prospect of the morning. Somber coloured and windswept, the patgonian steppe stretched out on our left not long after leaving the city. One road sign indicating a town  >1500 km away reminded me of the vastness of this area.

Arriving at the lake, we hopped the barbed wire fence and set off. Within an instant a plover was before us. This species is quite special. As a plover, the bird looks more like a elegant cross between a dove and a shorebird. Walking off around the lake we were treated to no less than 6 other individuals, 3 of which were banded. Banding these birds helps researchers identify the individual, and hopefully learn more about their movements, reproductive behaviour, site fidelity, landscape use, and survival. If our Motus towers are a success, they may even start radio tagging them!

Non-banded Magellanic Plover

As we wandered across the open landscape, I was drawn by a familiar sight. Overgrazing. The former grasslands are now flat turf, dominated by the common weed that sheep and cattle deem unworthy. Nonetheless, life still grows. Small, purple and pink flowers native of the patagonian steppe spread their petals to the sun. Like most flowering plants in open, cold and windy areas, they are small and grow low to the ground, spotted only by a discerning and careful eye.

Uninterested in tiny wildflowers, Upland Geese congregate on the flat turf, Southern Lapwings betray their presence with their incessant screeching, and a Cinereous Harrier swoops by. Southern Lapwings are pretty, but I am sure their raucous calls will eventually permeate into my dreams, robbing me of blissful slumber. Should you ever want to make a point with your neighbors, instead of blasting AC/DC to the high heavens at 2 am, give them 2 minutes of Lapwing calls and you will never have a problem with your neighbors again!

Parsing out the cry of the lapwing, an unfamiliar trill emanating from the scrub grabbed my attention, as an Austral Canastero, with its streaked back and spiky tail came into view. Canasteros, long-tailed and slim, are members of the ovenbird family (Furnariidae), a primarily South American family. Ovenbirds are so-called because certain members of this family, mainly the Horneros (horno is oven in spanish), build oven-shaped nests out of mud or clay. The canastero (basket-maker in Spanish) prefers to make its nests of large sticks and twigs. The Common Miner, also an ovenbird, picked away at the barren ground near the shoreline. Miners are so-called because they nest in holes in banks. All rather sensible naming if I do say-so myself! The Chilean Spanish names are also very practical, something the guardians of common English bird names may want to consider. Do we really care which name was given to a species first, when said name only offers confusion and leaves the would-be-birder lukewarm at the prospect of IDing a Connecticut Warbler in their mosquito-infested lair in the boreal forest? At Laguna los Palos, there are no mosquitoes or Connecticut Warblers to worry about, and with stout-hearted companions enraptured by nature, simply no worries at all.

I did manage to see one friend from Canada out on the flats. Baird's Sandpipers are fairly common in this part of Chile, passing the austral summer at the southern end of the Americas after nesting on Ellesmere Island during the boreal summer. Long-winged, Baird's Sandpipers are master flyers and as much Chilean as they are Canadian.

Baird's Sanspiper

Feeling satisfied with the day, we worked our way back to the car. Along a fence line, Jorge and I spot another iconic bird of Patagonia, a Lesser Rhea. Large and flightless like its relatives the Ostrich and Emu, rheas are South America's living dinosaurs. Running along the fence with 6 chicks in tow, we were all smiles, and not wanting to stress it out, hopped the barbed wire fence ourselves to give the bird and its young a wide berth. It was great seeing one alive-and-well. Just prior, we saw the remains of one still hanging from the same barbed wire fence, a sobering reminder of the effects of carving up the landscape for our own gain.

A sad way to go.

Leaving Laguna los Palos, it was time for one last stop. A friend of Jessica's had sent her a cellphone pic of an Austral Pygmy-Owl sitting atop a fence post. The word was that it had a nearby nest. Not sure exactly which post we were looking for, we drove along the road trying to identify fence posts from the grainy cellphone picture. Through sheer luck more than anything else, we found the spot. Two clear nesting holes in a tree gave it away. At first we were unsuccessful, then a sharp whistle from Pablo made me turn around. There perched in the open on a tree branch that I had just passed under was an Austral Pygmy Owl! Unperturbed by the 5 humans standing mere meters away, it carefully scanned the area, searching for its next juicy meal of siskin or sparrow. Smiles, handshakes and camera clicks abounded. As my friend Steve Pike would say, roasted and toasted!

Austral Pygmy-Owl

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Smiles all around!

Bienvenido a Magallanes!

Albatross, penguins, steamer ducks - iconic birds of the southern cone of South America. When I was asked this past May if I had any plans for November or December, I did not expect to be asked whether I wanted to go down to Tierra del Fuego to install Motus (www.motus.org) telemetry towers to track Red Knot movements in Bahia Lomas, and I certainly did not think I would be seeing any albatross, penguins or steamer ducks in the near future.

Fast forward, and here I am in Punta Arenas, Chile, looking out my window. Across a busy street lies the Magellan Straight. Today's calm looking waters belie a sleepy ferocity that can awake at any moment as southern winds roar across the water, buffeting passerbys and vibrating the house. At the moment, my eye catches Southern Giant Petrels riding the winds, Tierra del Fuego's hills occupying the background. A even more distant Black-browed Albatross can be seen, gliding effortlessly. At times, the giant petrels soar so close to shore that their wings cast shadows along the breakwall and across passing cars. A quick walk along the shoreline and the bizarre Flying Steamer Duck plies the waters, and the dapper Two-banded Plover actively feeds along the water's edge. Imperial Cormorants nest on derelict piers, as Kelp Gulls and Dolphin Gulls loaf about. The occasional Chilean Skua comes in close for an inspection and makes half-hearted attempts at stealing the cormorants' catches.

I have been here in Punta Arenas since November 14th. Billed as the world's southern most city, it is hard to disagree. While Ushuaia, Argentina may debate that point, Punta Arenas is a commercial and touristic centre and offers all the amenities one could want; coaxial cables, solar panels, 12-volt batteries, metalurgical shop, steel cables, nuts, bolts, drills, volt meters, marine goop... you know, normal stuff! Take that Argentina!

For you see, those are essential parts to get six automated radio telemetry towers up and running in the wind swept wilds of Tierra del Fuego, where 120 km/h sustained winds are not uncommon. 

Stay tuned for tales from Magallanes and beyond!

Testing our tower before going to Tierra del Fuego.