Cooktown; a tropical delight

I've not actually featured a town as a blog post topic before, and indeed hadn't intended to do so today. My original intent was to feature the lovely restored botanical garden - and indeed that will be the focus of what follows - but I realised that it would be a pity not to share some of Cooktown's other delights too. People have lived here, doubtless very well too, for tens of thousands of years, but its written history began in June 1770 when Captain James Cook's Endeavour struck an uncharted submerged reef and the crew spent a forced seven weeks ashore carrying out repairs. Cook climbed the hill now known as Grassy Hill Lookout to try to map out an escape route through the shoals - it is still the best introduction to Cooktown.

Late afternoon from Grassy Hill, looking inland up the Endeavour River, surrounded by mangroves, with
the town to the left. Cook named the river for his ship.

Looking out to sea from the same spot; was this the reef that forced Cook ashore?

While they were there, botanists Joseph Banks and Daniel Solander (who doubtless were glad of the involuntary stay) were busy collecting over 200 plant species new to science and Sydney Parkinson made the first life sketches by a British artist of Aboriginal people. Among their scientific specimens was the first Eastern Grey Kangaroo Macropus giganteus known to European science.

So much of history seems to be driven by chance. Cook learnt the word 'kangaroo' (which he rendered
as Kanguru or Kangooroo) from the local Guugu Yimidhirr people. Had the Endeavour sailed past instead
of landing, as they had intended, the next opportunity for English-speakers to learn a local name for the animal
would presumably have been that of the settlers at Sydney eight years later - and we would probably be now
using the word 'patagarang', or something similar.
(This Eastern Grey Kangaroo - or rather two - is not from Cooktown, but Canberra!)

 In case you're not familiar with Cooktown - and I don't expect my overseas readers to be - it is located in far north Queensland, on the Pacific coast, on the east coast of Cape York Peninsula.

Location of Cooktown - well north of the Tropic of Capricorn - at the end of the red arrow in far
north-eastern Australia.

Cooktown has had a tumultuous European history, which began more than a hundred years after Cook's visit, when a settlement known as Cook's Town was established at the mouth of the Endeavour River in 1873 to service the Palmer River goldfields, 120km to the south-west. (The contraction to 'Cooktown' was made official shortly afterwards.) There was soon a substantial Chinese community, some prospecting but many more growing fruit, vegetables and rice and supplying the town and the gold fields; others ran shops. By 1880 Cooktown was home to 4,000 people, with as many more in the surrounding districts. By now the gold fields had been worked out, and the passing trade dropped off, but there were still 27 licensed pubs in town, supplemented by a goodly number of illegal grog shops and several brothels serving alcohol. There were also bakeries, a brewery and a soft drinks factory, dressmakers and milliners, a brickworks, a cabinetmaker, and two newspapers. 

A beautiful 60 hectare botanic gardens was opened in 1878 - more on that anon.

Cooktown begin to shrink as Cairns and Port Douglas to the the south took some of their port trade, but it still survived on the back of more minor gold finds, pearls and the growing cattle industry. By the end of the nineteenth century there were probably only 2000 people living there. A major cyclone in 1907 and a big fire in 1919 caused widespread destruction. Most of the remaining population was evacuated during the Second World War. The indigenous population was forcibly removed, many of the older people being sent to the infamous Palm Island; it was a bad time and place, and many of them didn’t survive the experience. 20,000 Australian and US troops were stationed in town.

After the war people started to return, then in 1949 another cyclone mostly destroyed the town. When the inland rail link to Laura closed in 1961 and the Peninsula Development Road from the south opened up, bypassing Cooktown, the population dropped to just a few hundred. It still refused to die though, and as tourism increased in importance in the 1960s, so the population climbed again. The cyclones stayed away until April 2014, when Ita crossed just north of town, bringing massive flooding, but not too much damage. The permanent population is now around 2,500, massively boosted in winter by tourists. One of the things I like about Cooktown is that it doesn't seem to have compromised its nature too much while catering for visitors; I can only hope that balance is maintained.

I am especially fond of the waterfront, which inevitably features a tribute to the man for whom the town is named.

Other residents of the Esplanade are rather more lively.

Little Red Fruit Bats Pteropus scapulatus, found widely across the Australian near-coastal tropics and
sub-tropics. There was a colony of thousands on the waterfront when I was last there; I assume there still is.
This is the smallest of the 'flying foxes' in mainland Australia.

They are always active and curious, and seemingly very intelligent.
(I have the impression there's a youngster clinging to this one, but I can't quite make it out.)

Lastly, before I get to the main focus of this post, I must mention one lovely little reserve just off the Mulligan Highway, only five kilometres south of Cooktown.

Mulbabidgee, also known as Keating's Lagoon, above and below.

Covering just 47 hectares, the reserve protects lovely wetlands in the Annan River catchment.

Which brings us to the botanic gardens, 60 beautiful hectares set just south of Grassy Hill, between the town and Finch's Bay. 

The Queensland Government provided £200 a year to assist in the gardens’ development in the 1880s –
this was policy at the time! – and a botanist was employed to develop a nursery.

There were two gardeners employed in 1890.

It was called Queens Park and was very formal and British with stone paths, pools and footbridges.
Here is some of the original stonework, restored. Wells were sunk – these are still used now

In the 20th century however it fell into disrepair and became overgrown. In the 1970s it was realised that some 20 plant species survived from the original plantings and in 1984 reconstruction of the gardens began, supported by Commonwealth funding. Today it is magnificent again. One focus is on the plants collected by Banks and Solander nearly 248 years ago (as I write).

Some of the Banks and Solander garden, which is still establishing.

Here are some other features of the gardens.

Part of the cycad garden.

Orchid house - not much flowering when I was last there.

Vanilla Orchid Vanilla sp. with pods.

The cafe deck is not to be missed either....

...likewise the excellently informative visitors' centre, above and below.

One of the highlights for me is the magnificent 6.5 metre long python, carved from the very dense and heavy Cooktown Ironwood Erythrophleum chlorostachys, which I am told is very hard to work with.

The head stands a good metre off the ground.

Cooktown Ironwood, the wood of which was used to carve the botanic gardens python; despite the name
the tree is found across northern Australia. This one was near Georgetown, well to the west of Cooktown.

At a more natural level, a key part of any visit to the Cooktown gardens is the delightful short walk through monsoon forest to Finch Bay.

Views of the lovely track to Finch's Bay through monsoon forest.

Vine forest, or monsoon forest, is a type of rainforest growing in a tropical area with a strong wet season
followed by a long dry season. 'True' rainforest, taller and denser, needs rain all year round,
though at least one season is usually significantly wetter.

Finch Bay, north end above, south below.

Unfortunately I can't determine who Finch was (I'm assuming it's not named for a bird!);
as ever, any help gratefully received.

So, Cooktown. If you've not been there I hope it's on your list - and of course the drive there and the country around are also magnificent. I'd love to think I've encouraged just one more person to go somewhere superb.

Sunset over the Endeavour River, Cooktown.

NEXT POSTING THURSDAY.

(And remember that you can get a reminder when the next post appears by putting your email address in the Follow by Email box in the top right of this screen.
And I'd love to receive your comments - it's easy and you don't need to sign in!)

Aguas Verdes Revisited; another good news bird ecotourism story

This is an update of a posting from a couple of years ago; since then I've revisited Aguas Verdes, and I believe it's worth retelling the story, while also reporting on updates to the project and including some highlights from our second visit, to add to the first.

Some time ago, I told the remarkable story of Angel Paz and his cloud forest property Paz de las Aves on the western slopes of the Andes in northern Ecuador. I won't retell his story here - please trust me that it's worth reading if you're interested in the concept and haven't come across the tale.

Today I want to tell you about a more recent such enterprise further south on the other side of the Andes and across the border, on the eastern slopes in northern Peru. Norbil Becerra is a carpenter who was intending to turn his small family-owned patch of rainforest just outside of the little town of Aguas Verdes (not to be confused with the town of the same name on the Ecuadorian border) into a coffee plantation, which is the fate of much of the cloud forest around there. At 1500 metres above sea level these rich forests support a fascinating combination of upper and lower elevation species.

 Instead, inspired by what he saw at nearby Huembo Lodge (of which more in a forthcoming posting here), he put the coffee plantation plans away and turned his talents to building a viewing platform facing an array of hummingbird feeders. At Huembo he had seen the extraordinary Marvellous Spatuletail (see under September in that link) - his first ever hummingbird - and like many before him he was hooked. But more than that, he undertook to learn how the feeders worked and how he could emulate what he saw there.

Aguas Verdes is not a wealthy town, and it is unsurprising that Norbil's efforts met with local
opposition and even derision. But as the number of visitors and their money continues to rise, that
is changing and already Norbil and Evalina have made significant changes and additions to the infrastructure.
(On our first visit we arrived in a tremendous downpour; we were invited in to the simple open downstairs room
to have a cup of tea while we waited. The pig above trotted in while we were there, but was
only passing through to the back yard.)

Norbil, his son Christian and wife Evalina at Aguas Verdes, October 2017.

Norbil's viewing platform (here in 2015) is spacious and impressive - rivalled in my experience perhaps only by the
magnificent two storey structure at Waqanki Lodge at Moyobamba, not far to the east -  looking
not only at feeders but at plantings of selected flowering plants, chosen to attract both hummingbirds and butterflies.
Some hummingbirds turn their beaks up at feeders, but are unable to resist Verbena plantings.

The same platform two years later in 2017 (and taken from the other direction); you can see one of the
feeders just to the right of the platform, and get an idea of how much the vegetation
has grown in the meantime.

This gives an even greater appreciation of how much growth can occur in two years in this
part of the world; this is taken looking out of the platform towards the right of the 2015 picture above -
the bare ground there is now a tangle of flowering verbena, with hummers constantly flitting from flower to flower.

As you can see, on this most recent visit the rain came while we were on the platform - we just got there in time in fact! You can get a sense of its ferocity in the next photo, which shows a new building since 2015, planned as a little restaurant, though it is not yet open. It was a very welcome shelter in which to eat our packed lunches though.

Norbil's patience and determination in those early days were remarkable - it took seven months for the recalcitrant hummers to find the feeders, but he persisted in putting out sugar daily, cleaning and refilling the feeders, in the face of great pressure to be sensible, to clear and plant coffee. And in the end the birds came and, encouraged by nearby lodges and some socially-aware tour guides, visitors are coming too. We first did in September 2015, and felt hugely rewarded for our walk through streets still running with rainwater and then along a road for a kilometre out of town; fortunately the white sands under the forest drain the storm waters away efficiently.

Here is a selection of some the hummers we saw on our two visits, some of which are rare or hard to see elsewhere. Some of those photos taken in the rain in 2017 are rather 'noisy' as the light was very low.

Blue-fronted Lancebill Doryfera johannae.
This lovely hummer has a remarkably straight bill; it is scarce, though widely-distributed.
The closely related Green-fronted Lancebill D. ludovicae also comes to the feeders, and we
saw them together in 2017.

Fork-tailed Woodnymph Thalurania furcata, another widespread and truly gloriously
iridescent hummingbird.

Golden-tailed Sapphire Chrysuronia oenone; really, I run out of superlatives for hummers...
This one is found throughout the northern Andes.

Many-spotted Hummingbird Taphrospilus hypostictus, limited to the lower eastern slopes of
the northern Andes.

Sapphire-spangled Emerald Amazilia lactea in the rain.
This has a huge range across South America, though the taxonomy is vexed,
and some would split it, with this then becoming Spot-vented Emerald A. bartletti.

White-necked Jacobin Florisuga mellivora in very heavy rain!
This familiar species has an even bigger range, north to Mexico; this one's characteristic
white neck band is hidden in its fluffed-up feathers.

Blue-tailed Emerald Chlorostilbon mellisugus; male (above) - note the iridescence, even in the
absence of sunlight! - and female below.

 

Rufous-crested Coquette females Lophornis delattrei, above and below.
Unfortunately the ludicrously-coiffed male didn't turn up on this occasion.
Light, as I said, was low, so exposure was a relatively slow 1/125 second, but even so
the blurred wings give an idea of how fast they're whirring away!

 

For me though, the hummingbird highlight of the first visit - and indeed of both visits overall - was the truly amazing Wire-crested Thorntail Discosura popelairii. This was not the first time I'd seen it but it was by far the best view I've had, and the only chance I've had to take a moderately acceptable photograph.

Wire-crested Thorntail male at Verbena.
Birdlife International describes it as "generally rare"; Cornell Lab of Ornithology refers to it as "stunning".
It is one of the most enthralling birds I've ever had the privilege of meeting.

Without the crest and the ridiculous tail the tiny female (no more than 8cm long)
isn't quite as impressive, but I reckon she's still pretty cool.

I mentioned the butterflies - I can't offer you names (and would be delighted if you could help out) but hopefully you can still enjoy a couple of them in anonymity. Understandably they didn't show up in the rain on our second visit.

However Norbil didn't stop there. Much more recently he built a nearby raised hide within the forest, and equipped it with a simple but ingenious mechanism to deliver corn to the forest floor in front of the viewing windows.

Norbil's hide for viewing almost mythically shy and hard-to-see birds of the cloud forest floor.
The corn is delivered though the pipe on the left to the ground below the viewing slots (below).

However by the time we returned in 2017 Norbil had already built a much grander hide, enclosed and with far more seating space, and a slicker corn- and seed-delivery system.

Isn't it impressive (even without the planned handrails)?!

Inside the hide, where there is now seating (and viewing) space for eight people.

Corn and seed dispenser, in the 'attic'.

The bird framed by the viewing slot in the old hide above is one I'd almost given up hope of seeing - a tinamou! Moreover, not one, but two species wandered in to offer us extended views. Tinamous belong to the ratites, the great flightless Gondwanan birds (ostriches, emus, rheas etc), but unlike their larger relatives they can still fly weakly.

This Cinereous Tinamou Crypturellus cinereus came in early, and others later followed.
It is widespread across northern South America but, like other tinamous, is very secretive.

Later it was joined by a Little Tinamou Crypturellus soui, likewise rarely seen normally.

Little Tinamou, another Aguas Verdes thrill.

Another hard-to-see resident of the forest interior which came to visit was the pretty little Orange-billed Sparrow Arremon aurantiirostris.

Orange-billed Sparrow, another new species for me.

Grey-necked Wood Rail Aramides cajaneus, perhaps not as hard to see as some of the
others, but hard to imagine a view as spectacular as this one!

White-tipped Dove Leptotila verreauxi.A large and widespread forest species, but not normally easy to approach.

Grey-fronted Dove Leptotila rufaxilla, very closely related to the previous species.
Both have very extensive, and largely overlapping ranges, but Grey-fronted is more strictly a bird of the rainforest.

Another star of this hide is the very elusive Rufous-breasted Wood-quail Odontophorus speciosus,  which come in groups in the morning - unfortunately both our visits were in the afternoon. One day...

When you're in northern Peru - which is entirely different from the more visited south of the country - there are several reasons to visit this wonderful innovation at Aguas Verdes, not the least of which is to do yourself a favour. The restaurant will probably be open! But supporting people like Norbil and Evalina and what they stand for is probably even more important.

(And I've just noticed that this is my 400th blog posting since I began in 2012.
Thanks for still being here!)

NEXT POSTING THURSDAY.

(And remember that you can get a reminder when the next post appears by putting your email address in the Follow by Email box in the top right of this screen.
And I'd love to receive your comments - it's easy and you don't need to sign in!)