From Shanklands back to Georgetown

When it was time to leave Shanklands for our trip back to Georgetown, Guyana, we were greeted by Bernard, another quiet, smiling bush boatman.  Bernard piloted the Big Ben, an long, thin, open metal boat powered by a massive outboard engine.  Bernard was quite proud of his ability to hang incredibly tight turns to bring us back for a bird sighting.  I know I was looking straight down into the river on some of those turns.  We were rewarded with very worthwhile sightings.  The best was the sun bittern.  This is a shore bird about the size of a small egret.  Mottled brown is the dominant color until - until-- The sun bittern has earned its name by the beautiful and surprising display that is the result of the bittern opening wide his wings.  Seen from behind, the bittern looks like a gigantic moth with huge dark eye markings on each wing - simply stunning.
Our guide saw a sun bittern on the muddy shore and signalled a quick turnaround.  The sun bittern saw us but didn't seen alarmed.  He turned toward the bush, hopped up onto a fallen log and bingo- flashed those wings.   And people wonder why we chase birds.

Lewie, our East Indian driver from Georgetown, was waiting at the boat dock with our van.  We said goodbye to the impressive Essequibo River and turned toward the bush.  A long, rutted drive back to Georgetown to our hotel to drop off luggage and pick up lunch, and we were off on a forty-mile trip to the Mahocainy River.  We were met by another bush boatman, this one piloting a formidable looking, heavy metal boat which took up half the river.  There was an enormous exposed engine just behind the pilot that made for possibly the noisiest boat ride in history.  A thin, frazzled looking rope guarded the engine area, where gears ground and wheels turned.  Not a place for the unbalanced!  We moved to the roof of the boat in order to be able to hear and also to get a better view of the birds.  Again, it was so hot, especially on top of the metal roof, that I'm sure we sweated out the last week's water intake.  We kept skin covered and used an old black umbrella to guard from the sun as much as possible.

 Numerous flocks of hoatzins lined the bank.  Like ungainly chickens, they teetered and clung to the foliage just over the water.  It wasn't  unusual to see one or more fall in, and it didn't seem to faze the birds.  They would thrash and oar with outspread wings until they could cling onto overhanging foliage.  At the 'wrist' joint of their wings they have a tiny claw-like appendage that they use to regain their foothold.  The appendages look eerily like single fingers.  With a row of mohawk-like feathers on bald blue heads, they truly look prehistoric.  They squawked and fussed like hens in the bush as we chugged by.

Farther on, a troop of howler monkeys sat in the highest branches overhanging the river.  They watched us silently as we passed below them.  Hunched on the limbs, tails curved softly over their golden backs, they were very wild and beautiful.

We returned that evening to our hotel behind massive walls covered with every possible exotic flower and vine.  Outside the walls,  Georgetown at this time was very rough and dirty.  Trash and stagnant water were everywhere.  Snail kites perched on power lines over slimy drainage ditches, where egrets stepped daintily around discarded bottles and rotten fruit.  Lotuses bloomed in muck.  The streets were packed with cars, vans, bicycles, pedestrians, wary dogs and sleepy cattle.  The stinks were as awesome as the colors of the flowers.