Lesser Antillean Grackle

Lesser Antillean Grackle by Neil McCall

The first bird flew down as soon as the waiter opened the breakfast hall, and by the time I emerged to start my day with a fruity Caribbean breakfast there were half-a-dozen of them hopping round the table legs pecking for crumbs; Greater Antillean Grackles. Not a rarity by any stretch of the imagination, but a cousin of the bird I'd come to the Dominican Republic to find, the Lesser Antillean Grackle. I'd memorised the field signs such as there were, the Lesser being about half a centimetre shorter, wingtips protruding slightly further down the tail and, the clinching feature, a lemon-yellow eye as opposed to a pure white one. Other than that, both birds were glossy black. I wondered what would happen if one of the birds around the table missed out on the food, failed to grow as large as the others and developed jaundice as a result ' how would I know it was just the common bird if it looked somewhat like the rarity? Well, it would be down to behaviour ' fifty years ago, Lesser Antillean Grackles were nowhere numerous though not too hard for the determined birder to find, twenty years ago they were down to around five remote enclaves, then one, and then silence. Until one had been tentatively identified up near the Haitian border earlier this year, and that was where I was heading, to hopefully provide the birding world with a definitive almost-but-not-quite extinct bird to be protected (or, for some real enthusiasts, to grate their teeth over not having seen it on previous visits to the DR). Behaviour ' apparently when the yellow bulldozers went chugging up the jungle trails with a view to making a clearance for crop planting, the Lesser Antillean Grackles would go shrieking in terror into the depths of whatever little forest they could still find, whereas the Greaters would hop on to the bulldozer roof in the hope that the driver might leave his sandwiches unattended¦
"You little sod! I yelled, as the big grackle came in on a low-level sortie, took my largest pineapple slice and flew cackling into the nearest palm tree.

I decided to take advantage of the hotel pool, have an hour or two in the sun then go in search of a taxi-driver willing to take me into the back of beyond, and stay overnight in preparation for a full day searching for the elusive bird before doing the return trip. This proved harder than I had imagined, many of them thinking that I was wanting a cross-border tourism trip into Haiti or was planning to smuggle drugs to sell to the surfboarders and jet-skiers on the beach. Eventually, by means of the birdwatching field guide, a theatrical display of binocular usage and pointing at a large-scale map of the island, I convinced one brave soul to take me, on condition that I gave him an unreasonably large wodge of US dollars in advance.

"Half now ' half later, I bargained, not being entirely stupid enough to give him the lot there and then, which could have put me in a position to be marooned up-country for days. I collected the rest of my stuff from the hotel, checked out and set off on the long journey. The northern coast road linking the tourist areas with the airport was reasonable, but as soon as we turned on to a minor road the potholes grew to craters, and before long all pretence of metalling was gone and we were effectively following a hundred-mile long rut. I tried to sleep, but was woken every few minutes by my head crashing into the cab roof.

Eventually we arrived at the village, which had been written in the second-smallest type face on the map; this seemed to be an indication in this particular remote part that it had ten or so houses as opposed to two. Young children came to stare in the taxi windows; whilst we weren't in impenetrable Amazon rainforest, it was a fair bet the locals saw relatively few white faces, apart from maybe a manager for a lumber company. For the area was outside of any national park, and deforestation was therefore very evident, although a few copses of trees stood around in speckled clumps; it seemed difficult to believe that they could support much of a colony of grackles, although of course it was a mere one which had allegedly been seen here. By the time we had found a shady spot in which to park, it seemed that the whole of the village had come out to greet us. The taxi driver consulted what was obviously the head man in rapid Spanish, but then turned to me:

"You show bird, he requested.

I opened the page on the field guide which featured both grackles. Now was the chance to show my mastery of the Spanish language. I pointed to the Greater Antillean Grackle.

"Grande ¦ malo! I said, making a sorrowful face as though my cat had just died. Twenty faces copied my look of grief and anguish, and nodded with comprehension, with many a "Si, Senor!

"Poco ¦bueno! I declared, pointing to the Lesser Grackle, the next bird on the page. I let my face show a radiant beam, which was transmitted to the throng. We were getting on just fine.

Then I pointed to my eyes.

"Poco ¦limon! I enunciated, to show them how to tell which bird was the right one by the field markings.

"Si, si, limon, they chanted, holding fingers to the corners of their own eyes.

The chief then showed us to a hut, whose occupants had clearly been turfed out to bunk up with another family for the night. There wasn't much besides a mattress and a blanket, but this wasn't a luxury beach complex. I unloaded the small bag containing my change of clothes along with the huge carryall containing my birdwatching gear. A tap on the shoulder; my driver.

"Big man, he wants US dollars.

I watched as he passed the wad of dollars to the chief man, who then got out a calculator and began tapping away as they conversed in Spanish. A brief nod was transmitted between the two men then across to me; sorted!

It was past dusk by now and I was getting rather hungry, but the driver assured me that he had negotiated an all-inclusive package and, sure enough, as the stars came out above the mountains the wonderful smell of outdoor frying filled the air, for no less than the chief himself was crouched over a bubbling pan on a wood fire arranged outside his own hut.
Food, a beer ' I had thought to bring a couple of cans, though now rather warm ' a good kip and an early start to ornithological accreditation, I mused as I grew sleepy. Then a now-familiar hand shook my shoulder:

"Food is ready, senor, explained the driver, and escorted me to the chief's hut for supper.

The chief took the lid off the pan and proudly invited me to inspect his culinary artistry.
Inside, on a bed of soft rice and vegetables, lay the eviscerated and roasted bodies of two smallish glossy black birds with protruding wing tips; their eyes had been crudely hacked out and replaced with slices of lemon. I think it was at that point I began to scream.

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The prison governor spread his arms expressively, arranged his booted feet more comfortably on his desk, and began to eat a sausage, punctuating his munching with efforts to make me feet at home in his care.

The Dominican Republic was, he explained, a very accommodating country despite its relative poverty. In fact, they would positively go out of their way to accommodate a guest from Britain. For instance, for only a few dollars a week I would get a bed in my cell. And, for only a small top-up fee, regular and nourishing meals ' not quite up to the standard of four-star hotels, but good value nonetheless. Then, for only a few dollars more, he would personally arrange that I didn't get strung up by my ankles and beaten on the soles of my feet on a systematic basis. And finally, a further trifling sum would ensure I could top up my suntan for several years by walking round the perimeter wall once a week. After all, he reminded me, a certain poor headman in a remote village, although healing quite nicely, may well never be able to sit in the sun again after having his head forcibly immersed in hot bird stew by a foreign tourist. He trusted that the arrangements were to my satisfaction, and as a further concession I could feel free to use his personal office telephone to arrange administration of financial matters with my bank or a relative.

As he spoke, a small corner of sausage evaded his searching mouth and fell to the floor, whereupon a Greater Antillean Grackle seized it and carried it triumphantly to the ledge of the barred window, laughing and cackling as it flew.