Birding on My Go Native Jamaica Tour

I hadn't visited Jamaica in more than thirteen years when I found myself there with a day to spend off of a cruise ship. It was easy for me to decide what I was most interested in: birds. The island is one of the largest, and perhaps the most verdant, that ships visit in the Caribbean so I imagined there should be some interesting avian discoveries in store. However my cruise didn't offer a specific birding excursion and I hadn't researched enough to travel independently. Fortunately my Montego Bay stop sold a tour entitled "Go Native Jamaica" that boasted a nature walk at a tropical plantation in the hilly outskirts of town. I was convinced when I read, "Watch for different bird species."

Of course most of the tour focused on the history and landmarks of Montego Bay, Jamaica's second largest city, and on the nation's culture as a whole. As my bus struggled through rush-hour traffic on its way to a seventeenth century fort, we passed by cattle egrets and below vultures scouring the urban landscape. Gull-like birds crowded in an estuary. My mind wasn't on the many good works of local celebrities but on the national bird of Jamaica, the red-billed streamertail hummingbird that my guide Tishara had described when I told her I was interested in birds. "It's the colors of our national flag," she told me, "Black and green." Alas she also advised this wasn't the season to see the bird in the area.

Still I thought of birds as we hugged the coastline and passed its resorts. Except for some swallows, I didn't identify any additional species. I did photograph a spectacular rainbow offshore as we waited in even more traffic.

We alighted from the bus at Saint James Parish Church in crowded downtown Montego Bay, the centerpiece of an Anglican campus dating back to the late 1700s. I heard chirps emanating from nearby trees and hoped to spot a warbler but house finches and rock pigeons dominated this urban community like in almost every other North American city.

Our next stop was outside town, up a winding road inland, at Mount Olive Basic School in Johns Hall. The mountainous landscape and lush foliage in a rural environment contrasted sharply with the pavement and crowds just a few miles behind us. While most of the tour-goers watched uniformed preschoolers as they sang a few tunes, I scanned the towering trees for birdlife.

A repetitive tweet turned out to be a squeak from our bus's transmission but another call indeed came from a bird, a bananaquit hopping on overhead power lines. It was easy to photograph the flitting creature not only because of its proximity but also due to its omnipresence on the islands of the Caribbean and in Latin America.

Shortly after, our group drove a little further up the narrow road for the plantation portion of the tour. Indeed as soon as we got off the bus, samples of sugar cane, pieces of coconut, and cups of coconut milk were proffered to each of us, all to the accompaniment of a native three-piece band. We even got to see ackee, the national fruit of Jamaica, hanging from a tree. My mind of course was still on the national bird of the country, that hummingbird, as we crossed a bridge over a swift stream and climbed up a steep and slippery concrete pathway to the farm.

As the other visitors inched cautiously up the slope, I paused at several bends to peer into the dense canopy of trees. I heard several calls and eyed some movement. One subject was a type of warbler, a northern parula, wintering on the island. Unsurprisingly another was a bananaquit. In a shadowy corner sat a quiet pair of Jamaican crows. And then a hummingbird seemed to zip back and forth far in the distance. Snap, snap, snap. I captured some shots that easily identified the bird as something even better: my very first tody.

Todies live only on the Greater Antilles where each of the largest islands - Cuba, Hispaniola, Jamaica, and Puerto Rico - has its own unique species. My Jamaican tody was comparable in size to a large hummingbird and just as brightly colored in green and red.

Breathless with excitement I caught up with my tour on the plantation grounds where Blue Mountain coffee was being sipped. A single coffee bush sprouting beans was hardly adequate for production. It was difficult to fathom how this mountaintop complex of small buildings and cages could actually operate as a commercial farming enterprise. Instead I felt like I was visiting a petting zoo where chickens and goats wandered freely while cages held the more exotic creatures like lovebirds and amazon parrots.

The lovebirds seemed to be the rosy-faced variety, a native of southwest Africa, that has established thriving colonies in Phoenix and other city neighborhoods around the globe. An attendant was insistent that this lovebird was indeed native to Jamaica. When I objected, he replied, "Yah mon," which from the local patois Tishara was teaching us on the bus meant, "No problem." It was a smart way to diffuse our disagreement. In any case I suspected the bird had also colonized swathes of Jamaica and is well known by the locals who grew up always recognizing it as part of their island's natural fauna.

Before climbing more slippery concrete stairs to a dining room for lunch, I eyed an empty, broken hummingbird feeder. Unfortunately there was still no sign of the hovering bird. However the hilltop venue where we dined provided panoramic open-air views of the surrounding jungle. In the distance an American kestrel lazed the whole mealtime atop the spindly branches of a dead tree that pierced the landscape.

I hurried through my vegetarian meal of rice and beans so I could seek out more birds. Besides peacocks roaming close underfoot and another pair of caged lovebirds, I only saw an additional bananaquit and probably the very same tody in the vicinity to where I spotted it an hour earlier.

Back on the bus, I thought we were returning straight to the ship until I realized we had a last stop for shopping. The souvenir store was on the other side of the city, close to the fort we had visited first thing in the morning. It was also situated on the ground floor of what appeared to be a closed restaurant and event space that offered commanding views of the bay that the fort used to protect. As I enjoyed the scenery I photographed my last bird, a loggerhead kingbird, as it perched in a palm tree.

I barely scratched the surface of exotic bird species during my short stay in Jamaica. However I've discovered an easy drive from the cruise port lies Rocklands Bird Sanctuary, a garden locale where on-line reviewers claim you can feed several different resident hummingbird species. Now I'm eager to book a date with that streamertail as soon as possible.