The Birds and the Maya

The hotel outside Chichen Itza epitomized the entire region in a way. Mayaland Hotel was indeed within the home of the Maya, but it was closed indefinitely. Until the Covid pandemic shuttered the adjacent entrance to the archaeology park, Mayaland was just a short walk away for overnight tourists. Now, like the ancient city and towering temples it looked out upon, its best days were most likely behind it.

The Maya are an indigenous people that have inhabited southeast Mexico and northern Central America for millennia. Their pre-Hispanic civilization was renowned for its large cities and towering temples that remain today as archaeological sites in various states of excavation, preservation, and reconstruction. While these cities each have their own unique histories, all the Maya ultimately shared the same fate at the hands of sixteenth century Spanish invaders and missionaries: conquest and subjugation. Nevertheless the people and many of their languages and traditions survive to this day.

In April I visited the Riviera Maya, the tourist zone that stretches along the Caribbean Sea from Cancun in the north to past Tulum in the south. The brand-new Tren Maya hugged the same route as the toll rode I drove to Chichen Itza, one of the largest ancient Maya cities. The ruins are also the most visited in the whole Maya region if not in all of Mexico; it's even ranked as one of the New Seven Wonders of the World, a list created by popular vote in a 2007 survey. It's not an easy feat to come out on top next to Egypt's Giza Pyramids and China's Great Wall.

However I wasn't visiting the Yucatán for only its history. In addition to its beaches and cenotes, I wanted to witness its birdlife. Tropical forests and humid jungles were habitat for a vast number of species. And I specifically chose hotels that were set in a mostly native landscape so I'd be able to do some birding in between sightseeing. Alas poor Mayalands was closed, but at nearby Hacienda Chichen Itza, not only did the hotel also border its namesake site, it had a reputation for excellent birdwatching.

Checking in the day before I visited the archaeology park, I was immediately distracted by the birds while trying to relax by the hotel's expansive pool. Animated great kiskadees made forays to sip at the water's service. A sulfur-bellied flycatcher sat calmly within a tree's canopy while a violaceous euphonia flitted from branch to branch below. Hooded orioles poked through the highest tree branches while cliff swallows soared overhead. I even observed a masked tityra and my first yellow-faced grassquits.

Birdsong - including a rooster's - along with a strong coffee motivated me early the next morning to explore the hotel grounds with my camera in hand. Hacienda Chichen is situated on the site of a cattle ranch dating back to the era of Spanish conquest. Today it maintains a careful balance between historic hotel, restaurant, spa, farm, and jungle preserve. Clay-colored thrushes dominated the landscape, bursting from the bushes and foliage in a chatter of calls. In what looked like an old orchard, a turquoise-browed motmot gazed serenely from a tree while its long, preened tail feather extended like a clock's pendulum. Nearby was a rose-throated becard and what I later identified as my first buff-bellied hummingbird. Even more new birds included white-fronted amazons and black-headed saltators.

Later I beat the morning rush to the entrance at Chichen Itza where I soon enjoyed unobstructed views of "The Castle," the towering millennium-old temple at the center of the park. The expansive grounds included a multitude of other imposing structures with modern names like the Great Ball Court, Temple of the Warriors, Observatory, and Nunnery. Wide, open spaces separated many of them while tree-lined - and, beware, pushy vendor-lined! - paths connected others. In these trees, I encountered at least three or four more motmots among a number of kiskadees and other flycatchers. It was easy for me to identify other familiar birds like an orchard oriole and a thick-billed euphonia. But it would take a later study of my photographs to recognize several new birds: a ferruginous pygmy owl, a violaceous woodcreeper, and a white-bellied hummingbird.

On the spur of the moment the next morning as I made my way to Tulum, I decided to stop at Cobá, another ancient Maya archaeological site. Unlike Chichen Itza, it was much less excavated, with the jungle often still encroached upon the structures. And also in sharp contrast to Chichen Itza, I was able to climb Cobá's much higher main pyramid, Nohuch Mol. Rope rails assured my safety as I slowly worked my way up the steep wooden staircase installed both for the tourists' and the pyramid's safety. From the dizzying height of one hundred and forty feet, I witnessed a vast canopy of treetops stretching to the horizon. And of course, a family of Yucatán jays in the trees immediately below me drew away my attention.

Yet there wasn't an abundance of birdlife to be found in the extensive complex; maybe it was the timing and the heat at midday. Nevertheless I managed to get some good shots of a roadside hawk and a pair of rose-throated becards. But most exciting for me was seeing not one but two different species of trogons. The first, the gartered violaceous, was already familiar to me from earlier in the trip. However the second was a pair of black-headed trogons, a new find for me.

Later in the day, I checked into my hotel situated on the beach within Jaguar National Park, a coastal jungle habitat where it wasn't as easy to spot its big cats as it its birds. The preserve surrounded Tulum, the last ancient Maya city I would visit. It's also one of the last cities built and occupied by the Maya in pre-Columbian times. It wasn't even completely abandoned until decades after the arrival of the Spanish.

If the lush surroundings weren't beautiful enough, the coastal location of Tulum was stunning. Perched on a cliff overlooking the azure Caribbean Sea, the setting was sublime, its highest pyramid acting as a beacon for travelers at sea. The heat, humidity, and hundreds of cruise ship excursioners only moderately detracted from the beauty. After all, a black-headed trogon greeting me as I made my way to the entrance surely was an omen for a rewarding visit.

At the site, I also encountered my first rufous-browed peppershrike, a unique type of vireo with a spicy name. And I photographed a type of immature grosbeak, possibly a blue. Of course, pelicans, terns, frigatebirds, and gulls were omnipresent overhead and over the sea.

I wondered what the Maya thought about living amidst the colorful birdlife all around them. We know that their edifices were painted in bright colors: reds, turquoise, yellow, black, white. Scarlet macaws, hummingbirds, and resplendent quetzals, a close showy, relative of the trogon, featured prominently in Maya mythology.

At Chichen Itza, a carved relief at the Temple of the Jaguars and Eagles showed an eagle about to eat a human heart clenched in its talons. The scene was so well preserved and detailed, not to mention dramatic, that I took a photo. The eagle represented a warrior responsible for obtaining victims to sacrifice to the gods. Why not show a human figure performing this ritual?

Well the eagle also symbolized divine wisdom and celestial power, the ruler of the sky and sun. In contrast, next to the image was a carving of a jaguar ready to consume a human heart. This cat also represented a warrior, but in addition, terrestrial and underworld power. The brutal offerings kept these powers happy. Often quite urgently today, it's merely protected habitat that the jaguars and eagles need to get by in the Yucatán.