The Oilbirds of Chontal - July 31, 2010

After a long bumpy ride over some pretty horrendous roads, we stopped at a farm to grab a guide to lead us to our final destination. Our guide hopped on a motorbike and we sped away trying to keep up, eventually stopping where a cool clear stream exited from a deep fern covered gorge. We entered the gorge slowly, walking on a narrow ledge beside the stream. It was dark, and the air smelled rich, almost rancid. Suddenly, right above me, I was aware of a group of glistening black eyes staring down at me from a shallow pocket in the cave wall. Oilbirds.

the oilbird gorge

Oilbirds are remarkable animals: essentially avian fruit bats, they use echolocation to navigate their dark gorge and cave roosts, head out only in darkness and pluck ripe palm fruits in nightly raids out over the forest to bring home to their plump, oily-fleshed young. There are only a handful of accessible caves where they can be seen in close proximity--here near Chontal was one of them, managed by a family of farmers who controlled access to the roost.

A few oilbirds alighted as we pushed deeper into their lair, fluttering demonically in shafts of sun filtering down through the ferns and palms thirty feet above. Unearthly growls, moans and screams echoed about the cave until the birds finally settled down, cozying up in pairs in cupped nests that looked to be made of their own feces. Half-digested palm nuts covered the floor of the gorge.

the oilbird roost

The oilbirds were magnificently beautiful, with subtle browns and crisp whites, harsh beaks and soft long whiskers. They shifted uncomfortably as we watched, and I felt bad about disturbing them. They looked like a council of wizards, spirits from some distance time, who had long looked out from this gorge witness to the slashing of their forest, the clearing of earth for pasture, the gouging of the cliff not two hundred yards from their gorge in order to lay a new highway, and through all this the birds came back to their lair night after night, feasting on the rich fruits of palms. Finally, we left them in peace, and made the long drive back to Mindo. That night, while it gently rained, we feasted on a meal of delicious charred corn, chicken, and platanos bought from a patient lady in a blue apron grilling underneath an overhang on the side of the road.