Angels in the Swamp

I can’t see his wings, but Angel is aptly named. Like some ethereal being, his vision permeates Zapata Swamp’s mangrove clusters and hardwood thickets. Each time he signals quiet with his finger to lips; each time he turns to point, my eyes follow and voila! A Cuban tody materializes, or a rosette spoonbill or some other rare avian species.



Endangered White Crown Pigeon



Although Angel Martinez Garcia is formally trained as a “biologist technician”, he is a world-class birder. For 31 years he has worked for the Cuban National Park system, and since 1991, when Las Salinas’ wetlands came under official protection, Angel and colleagues have guided as many as 3,000 tourists a year through this section of Cuba’s million+ acres of southern Matanzas swampland. The 21-kilometer dirt road that runs through Las Salinas is bird heaven—Angel’s specialty, of course—with manatees in deeper waters; Cuban crocodiles in the shallows.

“I can’t promise many birds this time of year,” says Angel, after I pick him up at the park office.  “In the winter, flamingos by the thousands flock here, but many species migrate away during these summer months. The water is low enough to drive on the road now, but that means fewer birds, no cocodrilos.”



The 21-kilometer road thru Cuba's Las Salinas wetlands



“No crocodiles?” I whine. But disappointment is short lived when I stop the car at Angel’s direction. We exit the a/c of the rented Peugeot, and climb a lookout tower. From this vantage, we spy reddish and great egrets, blue herons, black hawks and ospreys. 

This drive-by form of bird watching is wonderfully convenient, but so far the species are similar to the USs biggest swamp, the Everglades, which I live not far from in Key West.



Great White Egret



Farther up the road, a flock of 30 or so flamingos wades in the salty brine. A mile further, a flock of wood storks nest in trees. White ibis and black-neck stilts fish in the roadside shallows. A scarlet ibis and the rosette spoonbill are special treats on the return drive. 

We make one more stop. In a hardwood hammock, Angel knocks on a wooden tree trunk.  Up pops two curious screech owls. Then by listening to the forest, it happens: new life-listers appear. Angel points me to the small lime-green Cuban tody and the much larger, Cuban trogon. All decked out in red, white and blue, Cuba’s national bird is its flag-on-the-wing.

Other winged-things like mosquitoes are fiercer in the hardwoods than on the marshy flats. They lock on to my white linen shirt and slacks with the blood-sucking gusto of leeches. Accessorized with black flip-flops and do-rags to protect my face and neck, this particular ensemble is hardly the stuff of swamp walks. But when I planned this most recent trip to Cuba, I didn’t count on a bird outing of such magnitude. Only this morning my swamp-suit was culled from city clothes when Hotel Playa Larga’s front desk clerk said, “Yes, I can get you a guide.”

As you might expect, tourists don’t just flock to Cuban national parks the way they drop into parks stateside. Everything is arranged by “Powers That Be”: guide, gate guard, time (three hours), fee ($10). Obviously, a higher authority is watching over me, and armed with bug spray, binoculars, bird books and all that jizz, which Angel backpacks for my use, he whisks me in and out of these mosquito-infested swamps and back to the Peugeot with a smile on my face.



Zapate Swamp's Las Salinas



But no cocodrilos. No Zapata wren, nor sparrow nor rail, all rare species found only here, and whose habitat requires some muck-oozing, swamp walking that goes well beyond my sandals. When in Cuba, though, I figure you do as the Cubans do: improvise. I ask Angel to shorten the Las Salinas tour and take me on a side excursion to nearby Sopillar, where live zunzuncitos, the smallest birds in the world known in English as bee hummingbirds.

A mile hike into the bush along an old logging road renders only blood (mosquitoes), sweat and tears (blisters). “Noon is not the best hour for spotting birds,” Angel apologizes. We hike another sweltering mile to another blue-flowered salsa parrilla tree where I see a locust-size blur move in erratic, helicopter-like motion. Angel confirms it’s a zunzuncito and remarkably, three more passbys offer up a rainbow display of feathers.

On the walk back, Angel raises finger to lips, points and a Cuban green woodpecker appears. A few more steps, a giant lizard cuckoo materializes. Next, a stripe-headed tanager. A pee wee. Two more trogons. At high noon during off, off-season (June) the Zapata Swamp, via an earthbound Angel Garcia, delivers more birds to my Life List than any other single day of birding. Ring him up when you’re in Cuba (059-7249), and dress smartly for the occasion: You, too, may meet Angels in the swamp.



Angel Martinez Garcia at Cuba's National Park office in Zapata Swamp