Chapada da Diamantina, Bahia: February 11-15, 2013

In Central Brazil, there are a lot of different chapadas, a Portuguese word that best translates to plateau in English: Chapada dos Veadeiros, Chapada Imperial, Chapada dos Guimarães, and Chapada do Araripe, just to name a few.  But none of them compare to Chapada Diamantina, an immense and spectacular series of cliffs and chasms that compromises a less arid version of Monument Valley, or perhaps even the Grand Canyon.  As it’s geographically isolated in the interior of Brazil, deep within the state of Bahia, this national park is home to several endemic bird species, including the Hooded Visorbearer, Diamantina Tapaculo, and Sincorá Antwren.  In addition, it serves as the meeting point of several unique biomes – the Cerrado, Atlantic Forest, and Caatinga – making it one of the more diverse sites for birding in the country.

I’ve been hoping to visit this particular chapada ever since I learned we’d be moving to Brazil, but the trip was always a question of having sufficient time and resources.  Finally, during the last Carnival vacation Aimee and I had ten days to consider making the thousand-kilometer drive from Brasília; otherwise, it would necessitate a costly flight to Salvador on the coast and then require renting a car – most likely a tiny Fiat – and driving at least five hours into the interior.  After discovering Ciro Albano’s excellent article in Neotropical Birding on birding in the state of Bahia, which covers Chapada Diamantina in great detail, I decided the trip was definitely worth two full days of driving, even though gasoline costs nearly six dollars a gallon in Brazil.  We ended up staying in three different towns in the region and birding a dozen different sites, frequently resorting to the GPS coordinates in Ciro’s article as well as other recent trip reports.

Caetité

This small town in southeastern Bahia was a nice stop over for us at the end of the first day, located about ten hour’s drive from Brasília depending on the driver’s aggressiveness behind the wheel (we stayed at the comfortable but costly Hotel Porto do Sol).  With typical concision and accuracy, Ciro describes the directions to a roadside patch of deciduous woodland and scrub about 25 km away that contains a wonderful variety of Caatinga endemics, as well as the highly localized Minas Gerais Tyrannulet.  We found the site without trouble and within minutes were scoring lifers, such as the Cactus Parakeet, Gray-Headed Spinetail, Saphire-Spangled Emerald, and Silvery-Cheeked Antshrike.  After a bit of work off the road, we also called in a White-Browed Antpitta for great looks before I scared it off with the shutter noise from my camera, the lens of which increasingly malfunctioned over the course of the dusty trip. 

The only sign of the endangered Minas Gerais Tyrannulet, which is supposedly relatively common at the site, was a group of four to six similar-looking Tyrannidae that stayed high in the canopy and remained frustratingly backlit in the early morning light.  As it inhabits the understory and is more uniquely patterned, the delicate Narrow-Billed Antwren proved easier to find and identify, coming in close in response to playback.  This species is also a country and regional endemic and its status is described as near-threatened.  The primary stress factor for both species is habitat loss, which in this part of Bahia is principally due to charcoal production, mining, coffee farming, and cattle ranching.  Interestingly enough, wind farms have sprung up along the ridges surrounding Caetité, and Aimee and I stopped several times to admire the sleek 21st century windmills that look like they belong more in Scandinavia than Central Brazil.

Notable birds seen: Cactus Parakeet, Saphire-Spangled Emerald, Red-Stained Woodpecker, Red-Billed Scythebill, Gray-Headed Spinetail, Pale-Breasted Spinetail, White-Browed Antpitta, Silvery-Cheeked Antshrike, Planalto Antshrike, Narrow-Billed Antwren, Common Tody-Flycatcher, Long-Tailed Tyrant, Streaked Flycatcher, Buff-Breasted Wren, Red-Eyed Vireo, Gray-Eyed Greenlet, Flavescent Warbler, Hooded Tanager, Guira Tanager, Gray Pileated Finch.

Ibicoara

On the unexpectedly long drive from Caetité to Mucugê, our next stop over, we made a detour towards Ibicoara to search for the Diamantina Tapaculo in a patch of ferns along the banks of a river, again described in detail in Ciro’s article.  As it was late in the afternoon, I thought we had a respectable chance at getting a response to playback, but all the successful reports I read involved an early morning visit, which would necessitate a night in Ibicoara (supposedly there is also a good Sincorá Antwren site outside of town).  We didn’t record much bird activity in the half hour that we stopped here to stretch our legs, except for an active group of tiny Yellow Tyrannulets, a delightful Tyrannidae as well as an easy one to identify.  No doubt there would be other similar sites to find the tapaculo, I reasoned, as we sped onwards towards Mucugê before it got dark.

Mucugê

Not far beyond Mucugê is a good site to try for Sincorá Antwren, which inhabits the eroded rocky hillsides common in the region.  Aimee and I didn’t get any response in the late evening, but on the following morning around 10am a female came in quickly to a brief burst of tape.  She responded with the following call, not in the bird’s characteristic song, which would later lead to confusion as the very similar looking Rusty-Backed Antwren apparently makes the same call.  Shortly another mating pair came down from the top of the hill and joined the female in response; however, the male looked very much like the male Rusty-Backed Antwren, complete with rufous flanks.  So which species was it?  Although I’m inclined to be pessimistic in situations like this, it certainly could have been a female Sincorá Antwren and a male-female pair of Rusty-Backed Antwrens.  All three birds inhabitated the appropriate habitat of the Sincorá Antwren, but that’s how it is with splits sometimes: there are often individual shades of gray between species.

Earlier that morning we had visited the Cerrado site outside of town that Ciro describes in his article.  Indeed, I had dragged Aimee out of bed at the Pousada Mucugê for a chance at a few difficult but unimpressive Cerrado endemics, such as Rufous-Sided Pygmy-Tyrant, Gray-Backed Tachuri, and Shrike-Like Tanager.  We had celebrated Fat Tuesday the night before with a few beers and a mellow fish fry in the street side seats of a restaurant, a far cry from the epic debauchery our friends were experiencing in Rio de Janeiro.  Happily, rising well before dawn was worth it, as we easily found every target species along the first kilometer of a quiet dirt road, including a surprise group of Sharp-Tailed Tyrants, a species rarely noted in Bahia.  In particular, the unassuming Rufous-Sided Pygmy-Tyrant was a rewarding lifer for me, who has logged so many hours in appropriate habitat without having heard its uniquely chipping call.