I had been drawn to Mindo for its array of birds, and since I was seeing nary a one, I was encouraged to hire a professional guide. Thus one morning at 5:20am I set off with Javier (guide) and Cesar (driver) to visit a “lek.” A lek is where male birds, in this case the brilliantly red headed cock-of-the-rocks, gather in the woods to gain the attention of a mate. The females will only come for a quick visit, if at all. Meanwhile the males squawk, preen, compete for a branch, flitter about and make a raucous time of it.

I hadn’t expected to arrive, at this wee hour, amongst a small group of tourists already staked out with enormous cameras and zoom lens perched on hefty tripods in a hunters-like blind, (I had booked a “private” tour). Near dawn is the optimal time to see them.

Behind us our respective guides chatted away as if it was a daily occurrence to be in such a coveted area, but of course for them it was. We arrived in the near dark and could only faintly make out the red heads of these resplendent creatures. Hearing them was no problem. Their calls were incessant–and lacked all melody.

As light came to the thick woods the cock-of-the-rocks were glimpsed in thrilling, fleeting moments. Catching them on film was, even for those with professional equipment, decidedly difficult. (The picture in this post was taken a different day.)

Javier’s talents were impressive and uncanny. (A wicked cold dampened his enthusiasm.) He was able to identify 700 bird calls and imitate 140. When he was ten, his interest had been whet by a visiting Canadian ornithologist offering free workshops.

After an hour or so, the sun now up, we left the lek. Sighting any other birds remained elusive to me. But Javier would whistle, enticing various species, put down his tidy legged telescope and locate a bird with the aim of a sniper. He never missed. I tried repeating his actions-I was lucky to find a tree. He had spent eight hours a day for several months developing his skill and years honing it. The birds in the telescope appeared inches away and were splendid. They came in vibrant shades of blues, reds, yellows, purples and greens with a few brown ones too. Names were told to me and forgotten, there were too many to recall.

After an allotted time at one site we would head to another for a particular species’ sighting. Each tourist would get into a vehicle with their respective guide and driver. There were no more than fifteen of us, but driving, then walking in file, felt like being part of a tourist caravan. Arriving at a site cameras would be set up as if by a string of paparazzi.

Witnessing Javier at work and admiring gorgeous birds- birds I never would have seen without his assistance filled a memorable and worthwhile morning.

Yet I was also happy to visit the woods again under quieter (less human chatter) and less regulated circumstances.