Birds at Altun Ha and Wildlife along the Belize River

I hadn’t been at Altun Ha long before a flock of squawking parrots shot overhead. Chris, one of our guides, identified them as olive-throated parakeets—birds I’d never seen before.  I had entered the Mayan archaeological site already scanning the trees and had even photographed an American redstart near the restrooms.  But the parakeets were the sort of tropical birds that had drawn me to Belize’s hot interior rather than to the breezy cays fringing the country’s coral reefs, a far shorter trip from my cruise ship.  Surely, I thought, there must be trogons, manakins, euphonias, and even toucans in the surrounding jungle.

View of Altun Ha ruins.

There were indeed plenty of birds at Altun Ha. I found additional warblers besides the redstart—hooded, black-and-white, and magnolia—along with a white-eyed vireo. Several flycatchers called the park home, including great kiskadees, tropical kingbirds, and a third species that was either a dusky-capped or a brown-crested. A clay-colored thrush popped out from the thick surrounding brush that an army of landscapers kept from reclaiming the ruins. I also briefly encountered a raucous group of jays that may have been Yucatán jays.

Hooded oriole at Altun Ha.

Magnolia warbler at Altun Ha.

Flycatcher - possibly dusky-capped or brown-crested - at Altun Ha.

As for my list of tropical trophies—the species I’d glimpsed years earlier at nearby Lamanai, another Mayan site—I didn’t photograph a single one. The parakeets flew over at least two more times, always when I wasn’t ready with the camera. They even fed noisily high in a fruiting tree near the park’s entrance, but I couldn’t spot a single one before our waiting bus pulled away.

Forty-five minutes later we stopped for lunch at the Iguana Stop in Burrell Boom.  I followed more squawks emanating from the riverside trees, only to find grackles, kiskadees, and yet more American redstarts.  No parakeets—though there were plenty of green iguanas, which gave me an additional reason to pass on the stringy stewed chicken served alongside rice and beans.

Green iguana at the Iguana Stop in Burrell Boom.

I boarded the high-speed motorboat feeling disappointed. Mangrove swallows swooped and darted around us—graceful, but a pale substitute for the colorful tropical birds I had hoped to see.  Still, the Belize River quickly proved itself an ecosystem rich with other forms of life.  Denise, our river guide, mentioned she had once—only once—seen a jaguar slip down to the bank for a midday drink. The crocodiles we soon spotted basking in the sun also stirred my excitement. Not long after, we noticed proboscis bats hanging fully exposed beneath a bridge, suspended in broad daylight surprisingly.

Crocodile with offspring on the Belize River.

Proboscis bats along the Belize River.

Denise then had the pilot cut the engine and directed our gaze high into a riverside tree. As she repeatedly called out, “George!” a dark mass shifted in the foliage, confirming the presence of howler monkeys. To the naked eye, it appeared that perhaps four lounged in an afternoon siesta. Later, reviewing photos taken with my zoom lens, I counted at least seven—juveniles and babies among them.

Howler monkeys along the Belize River.

The birdwatching soon kicked back into high gear when Denise pointed out a jabiru stork nest.  Binoculars—or my powerful lens—were necessary to detect the parent bird nearly hidden as it brooded its eggs.  Still, it was my first encounter with the tallest flying bird in the Americas.

Jabiru stork in its nest.

At our next stop, four species of heron posed obligingly.  Two—a green heron and a snowy egret—were familiar back home in Arizona. The little blue heron was not.  And the bare-throated tiger heron was a thrilling lifer.

Bare-throated tiger heron along the Belize River.

Minutes later we eased toward shore to observe three northern jacanas, yet another new species for me.  They flashed yellow underwing feathers as they foraged along the shoreline.  Iguanas watched on from higher ground.

Northern jacanas along the Belize River.

As we motored on slowly, a curious bottlenose dolphin circled us for several minutes.  Near Belize City’s international airport, a manatee surfaced for air.  By the time we entered the wide estuary sheltered by the barrier reef, we spotted two more—a mother and her calf.

Manatees in the Belize River estuary.

That mental list of toucans and manakins faded into irrelevance.  I was watching Antillean manatees or manatees of any kind for the very first time.  Awestruck, I could hardly lower my camera.