The Resplendent One.

Reserva Natural Santiago

Reserva Natural Santiago

If ever there was a blessing to be had from the sighting of a particular bird, I think the Resplendent Quetzal would be one. No other bird holds such cultural and symbolic significance as the Quetzal does to the Mayan people; indeed, Guatemala names its currency after it so that every day, in countless places and interactions, the name Quetzal is evoked.

But the odds of seeing one were even at best, they told us. Some have hiked up into the Reserva Natural Santiago on the shores of Lake Atitlan and sat for five hours without sighting one. Not to be discouraged, I organised a tour, and on a morning this week, I found myself rising at 4 a.m. with a group of friends and sauntering down to the lake shore to catch a private boat across the waters to the town of Santiago.

That hour before first light holds its own magic. The world is still sleeping, and our only companions were the bright stars above and the black, immense silhouette of San Pedro volcano outside. The lights of the town sparkled on the lake waters as we sat in silence and anticipation. Somewhere in those forests, this most magical of birds would be waking up, and we had set a course to be there and have a chance to see it. 

Image: Caleb Austin

We docked at Santiago and rode through an empty town in an open pickup truck towards the Reserve. We huddled against the cold as the temperature dropped, and we climbed higher into the mountains. At the forest edge, we disembarked. Knowing this bird better than any, our guides wasted no time in leading us on a thin, climbing path into the interior. We walked in the dark in a single file, our eyes focused on each step, careful not to slip into the unseen ravines below us. The forest was waking up. Our guide responded to the sounds he heard of morning birds calling; he knew each name and song. His mimicking fine-tuned our ears to the life around us; the forest came alive through his attention and awareness. But this was not the place of quetzals—'not humid enough’ he called back, and we continued on, entirely at the mercy of his navigation.

The resplendent quetzal (Pharomachrus mocinno) was considered a manifestation of the pre-eminant Mayan diety Quetzalcoatl and was believed to be his earthly representative. This sacred symbol among the ancient Maya, representing fertility, creation, and the connection of earth and the cosmos, was revered above all others, and to this day, their representation adorns clothing, artworks, murals, and images throughout Guatemala’s indigenous tribes. The incredible tail feathers of the quetzal were the most revered of all, and only the Mayan elite wore them in ancient times. I had seen photos of those tail feathers, but to see one in flight was another thing altogether. Only then, they say, will its link to the cosmic serpent, to Quetzalcoatl, be understood.

We walked further into the forest, our guide setting a swift pace, skipping across tiny streams and stepping stones, till we crested a hill and caught sight of a thickly forested valley sloping towards the plateaus below. Like a switch turned on—the suddenness always a surprise—the first light of day began, and the fullness of this green world we had entered revealed itself all around us. We were mere humans in its vastness, strange and foreign creatures passing through, and entirely not of this place. Here he slowed down, something shifted in the air, and a clearing in the trees opened up. “Now we need silence, our guide told us, ‘no more talking from here’. 

Quetzal valley

The domain of the quetzal lay below us. I had felt this way before, felt it when I entered a temple or a place of worship or passed through a sacred site in Ireland. Each holds the same quality—a time out of time, a place where one's attention becomes sharpened to a fine focus. Only here the temple was encapsulated by the lush forest, and in that morning silence, the spirit of the quetzal held our attention. Somewhere, hidden in the sea of green in that alien world, it waited. 

And we waited, our eyes tiring from looking, and anticipation began shifting into an acceptance that today may not be our day. The air filled with our thoughts, and our legs became heavy from standing. So we began to take a rest, sitting instead on the earth and taking a moment to eat. 

But our guide remained alert; he gazed into the trees above him, and then his eyes lit up. He could hear a male quetzal calling. ‘Wait here’ he told us, and he disappeared into the forest, returning some ten minutes later and swinging his single-lens monoculars from his shoulder and opening the tripod arms. ‘They are coming’ he said, and then they appeared—a flash of bright green, two quetzals, a male and a female, gliding across the trees, indeed snaking past our vision with the incredible tail feathers of the male bird trailing behind him like a comet's tail. Quetzalcoatl, the serpent deity, entered our vision. On a tree in front of us, the male quetzal landed, and as though taking his time to observe us as we observed him, he perched there and remained. 

The guide's reaction, I think, is as indicitive as any for how simply beautiful this bird is. Eight years of leading people into this forest, and yet he lit up as though seeing it for the first time. How can any bird be this magical? With the monocular set up, we took turns receiving. The resplendent quetzal, a bird whose very name is an invocation, sat in front of us. Its tail feathers—two of them, three times longer than the bird itself—hung below him, swaying in the morning light. The same light caught the bright plumage—the impossible greens and blues, otherwordly and illuminated the delicate crown of feathers atop its head. Through two simple black eyes, it looked back at us.

Guide Rolando of Birding Atitlan Expeditions

We spent the next hour darting between higher and lower lookouts, with the guide calling out in the quetzal’s song to draw him closer again. And again they came—a female too, resting on the tree in front of us, pruning itself, nonchalant about the presence of a male close by. ‘This is my work’ our guide told us, smiling and visibly proud of his expertise and skill in bringing them within view. That hour flashed past, our cup was full, and each of us breathed in and felt renewed by the experience, for the sun rose properly then, cresting the mountain across the valley and bringing the full heat of the morning to us. The quetzals became quiet and departed. Our time together gone. They descended into the lower reaches of the valley, and we were left amongst the trees again, the canopy of green.

We walked back out of the forest, each of us blessed, each fused with a green flame, an image of the resplendent quetzal in flight.

The Resplendent Quetzal (male)

Resplendent Quetzal (female)