And so now, here I am: up a tree, somewhere in eastern Cuba. I've forced myself to sit here for an hour, slowly relaxing my vice-grip on the thick trunk.

Horse-drawn taxis waiting
in the shade are common
in the town's square

From my perch at site number 38 I spend most of my time absorbed by a pair of mockingbirds planning for the future; the site they've chosen is a tight squeeze, buried deep in a spiny hedge, and they are both busily adding twigs and grasses. A harsh cry brings me back to the task and I glance west to see a pair of cranes flying low over the reeds. Under"grullas" on my graph I make a note of their direction and number. In the distance, dozens of Royal palms sway in the arms of a strong evening breeze. There are said to be 20 million of these towering trees in Cuba; they grace the country's coat of arms and provide nesting sites for dozens of species of bird, bat, and insect. In the two-hour watch we see no parrots, though a few hundred will be seen at the other sites scattered throughout the province. I'm not too disappointed: It's a long way from the bitter cold of winter.

Arriving in Cuba Winter-Pale

We turn our attention to Xiomara Gonsalves, the Cuban biologist who is running this show. She is vibrant and alive, wearing a long black ponytail bound with a scarlet bow. Though her English is far from fluent, we always seem to know exactly what she means. She inspires confidence. The rest of us are a curious mix of scientists, bird-watchers, and private conservation supporters, from places as diverse as Madagascar, Jamaica, and the United States.

Move on to Parrots at First Sight

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