6 Oct 2001
From Selkirk overlook one can view the island and think
about the Firecrown. So remote is this island that only three now-endemic land birds
colonized it during its long history. Most birders, as well as scientists who study
the Firecrown, are rather nonchalant about its presence here, but to me it seems
absolutely extraordinary. The South American bird to whom it is most related, the
Green-backed Firecrown of Chile, lives in the high Andes, hundreds of miles from the
sea. The Green-back is a seasonal migrant, but not over ocean. How did the
first Firecrown ancestor find this little island? Did hundreds fall short, or fly
too far south or north, before a lucky one spied land? Landfall presented more
challenges - there were no hummingbird flowers on the island. Even now most
native plants are pollinated by wind, a few by insects. The first pioneers must have
survived for years, some perhaps living out their lives in solitude, before another of
their kind appeared on the island. What if the first two or three to make it were,
oh cruel fate, of the same sex?
8 Oct 2001
It is my last day on the Isla before I see Firecrowns in the viewfinder. As
usual, the day is overcast. Shutter speeds must be slow, which adds to the
difficulty of photographing these restless birds. The Firecrown hotspot is near the
pension - a cleared area in the eucalyptus, where a brush-filled ravine provides many low
perches. Here I watch males approach the females, singing and flying from branch to
branch with continous slow wing beats. The females in response turn their backs, and
flash their tail feathers in the manner of a redstart, revealing an alternating pattern of
green and white. As the afternoon draws to a close, I pack my camera and pause for a
last look at the Firecrowns: half a dozen females are hawking insects from their
perches, while several males serenade them from the high eucalyptus.