other two members of the group, plus two local men. I was standing on a cliff top -- not just any cliff but that in which about half the world population of Lear’s Macaw roosts: the famous site at Toca Velha. The sky began to lighten just a little. Dawn was breaking and the macaws were leaving for their feeding grounds. Huge, dark shapes appeared overhead -- a steady stream, groups of twenty, stragglers, larger groups, on and on they came, filling the air with their screams and filling my senses with awe and disbelief, their long wings appearing huge in the half light of dawn. I was spellbound by the elegance of their steady, rhythmic flight, hypnotising in its beauty. I had not expected this -- such grace, like an aerial ballet. Silhouettes as yet, they were like airborne javelins, all speeding in the same direction, their long tails pointing towards the next group behind them. They kept coming and coming, the noise -- that lovely sound of their calls -- going on and on.
I was spellbound by the elegance of their steady, rhythmic flight, hypnotising in its beauty. I had not expected this -- such grace, like an aerial ballet. Silhouettes as yet, they were like airborne javelins, all speeding in the same direction, their long tails pointing towards the next group behind them.
38 BIRD SCENE
We were right on the edge! The ground was covered in stones and small rocks. The vegetation was sparse, just a few dried up grey bushes, spiny-looking grasses and cacti as tall as a man, where they could get a foothold in a crevice in the rock.
The sun had been creeping over the distant horizon, tingeing the sky above the mountains in a narrow line of red. The light was coming up fast. They were not silhouettes any more. I could see their faces, the sun glinting off the bare yellow facial area and giving the underside of their wings a golden glow. So beautiful! We had driven to this place in the dark then walked for a few minutes. I had no idea where I was, how high I was, until the sun came up. Now I could see that we were on a small plateau, surrounded by sandstone cliffs that stretched far into the distance. The cliffs were pitted with holes, large and small, like Swiss cheese. In front of us was a deep, wide canyon. We were right on the edge! The ground was covered in stones and small rocks. The vegetation was sparse, just a few dried up grey bushes, spiny-looking grasses and cacti as tall as a man, where they could get a foothold in a crevice in the rock. Perhaps 400 macaws had passed -- but many came back in small groups, some of them hanging above us, curious. Looking at their faces through my
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