Somewheresville

Actually I should have called this pecking order. Their social hierarchy is clear. The flashiest of them all, the scarlet-rumped tanager, is lowest of the low; the flycatcher (yellow, don’t know what sort, will ask a guide) that is not afraid to buzz me or Carmen as we pass under any frond it happens to be perched on, is terrified by the orange-chested bird, which I think is the female tanager (poor Mr Tanager). All day long this bit of this palm is occupied; occasionally all three are sitting there, in a spirit of uneasy mutual toleration.