In Search of the Unicorn of the Mists
- Joel Ortega
- Jul 18
- 10 min read
A New Year Birding Expedition and 4 Special Moments
Throughout life there are moments you’d want to pause, store in a jar, and keep on a shelf to return to whenever you need them most.
For me, many of those moments happen in nature, and birds are often their protagonists: an unexpected close encounter, a perfect pose, an appearance right when you were about to give up.
This is the story of a New Year’s expedition in search of the Horned Guan of Tacaná, the so-called unicorn of the mists. It is not meant to be just a checklist or trip report (which you can find here: https://ebird.org/tripreport/508326), but rather an attempt to capture in words the moments that made this adventure unforgettable.
The Team
We took this trip with Bruce Heath, who started out as a client and over time became a great friend. I first guided him on the Península de Yucatán, then in Tabasco, later in Ciudad de México, Jalisco, Sinaloa, and finally in the northeast, in Nuevo León and Tamaulipas. After so many shared trips, friendship was inevitable.
We were also joined by Sandra Mendiola, a guide from the company, and Arturo Zapata, both close friends from university. Arturo started birding with us on that northeastern trip with Bruce. We introduced him to birdwatching and today he is already an accomplished birder.
The Goal
The idea was to ring in the New Year birding and keep adding species to everyone’s list. I wanted to spend New Year’s Eve differently from the traditional way (with family, at home), this time I wanted to end the year in the field, in one of my favorite places, searching for a bird that very few people have ever seen. After a year full of trips and amazing expeditions, birding through countries like Thailand, Colombia, and Peru, I wanted to close the year by going after the Horned Guan.
Large, striking, with a bright red horn emerging from its head like an anomaly of nature, hence its nickname: the unicorn of the cloud forest. It is not just a beautiful bird; it is a critically endangered species. Its natural range is limited to the montane cloud forest of the Sierra Madre of Chiapas and the highlands of Guatemala. Habitat loss, hunting, and its small population size make it a species that needs our protection
Day 1: The Beginning
We set off on December 30th from Montetik, looking for high-elevation species. The first target was the Pink-headed Warbler, of which we managed to get incredible photos as it preyed on an insect and posed with wings open.
Pink-headed Warbler posing and preying on an insect.
That day the forest welcomed us with more surprises: a Garnet-throated Hummingbird, an Amethyst-throated Mountain-gem, and the highlight of the day: the Blue-throated Motmot.
This species tends to perch high in pines, where seeing it well is usually difficult. But that day it decided to come down, settling just three meters above us, and stayed there, still, looking at us as if it knew it was the center of attention. We stayed there for several minutes, taking photos, watching it, barely talking.
We then visited Parque Natural El Encuentro, where we managed to see the Black-capped Swallow, a species with a very restricted range between Chiapas and Guatemala, feeding over the river, showing its forked tail and white belly The day closed with a walk through Parque Ecoturístico Arcotete, a few kilometers from San Cristóbal: an enormous natural arch of more than forty meters, carved by the Río Fogótico over thousands of years through limestone rock. Perhaps 1:00 PM, in full sun, was not the ideal time for birding, but walking there among friends and still some birds had its own value.
Day 2: Cañón del Sumidero and a New Year’s Embrace
December 31st took us to the Cañón del Sumidero: a spectacular geological fault whose limestone walls rise up to 1,000 meters, formed by marine sedimentation and tectonic fracturing millions of years ago. Its current relief is the result of the constant erosion of the Río Grijalva, which has carved this deep gorge revealing fossil layers and active caves in the heart of Chiapas.
During the day we recorded 49 species. One of the most notable was the Singing Quail, which is normally only heard, but on this occasion showed itself just a few meters away while feeding. We also had good views of the Streak-backed Oriole.
A dramatic sequence of the Streak-backed Oriole perched on a leguminous plant.
We also observed numerous migratory birds, including warblers and vireos.
Our main target for that day was the Belted Flycatcher, but we only managed to hear it and catch a fleeting glimpse. Even so, the experience in the canyon was impressive in its own right.
We continued our journey and, by afternoon, we decided to give a try in another spot for the Belted Flycatcher that had been seen near San Cristóbal, where we would be spending the night.
When we arrived at the reported site, only the last rays of light remained. We started birding without great expectations: a Greater Pewee, an Orange-billed Nightingale-Thrush… and then it appeared.
The Belted Flycatcher. Right there in front of us, with the light nearly gone.
The excitement was immediate. And in that instant, Bruce said: “Happy New Year!” We hugged right there, in the middle of the field, welcoming the new year.
The night kept giving: before we left, the Mexican Whip-poor-will became our last species of the year.
To celebrate New Year's Eve, we went to dinner in the center of San Cristóbal. Amid lights, fireworks, and toasts, we closed the year in the best possible way. Later, we found a karaoke bar where we sang and danced before returning to the hotel at 2 a.m. We slept little, as at 5 in the morning a new day of birding would begin.
Day 3: Starting the New Year Birding
We began the new year with a visit to Reserva El Ocote, in search of the Nava's Wren, a microendemic species associated with karst formations, living in cracks and cavities in limestone rock. Although we couldn't find it, the forest gave us many other good birds instead: Slate-colored Solitaire, Rusty Sparrow, Blue Bunting, and Yellow-winged Tanager.
Our path continued toward the popular Camino Arriaga, in the Reserva La Sepultura, in search of the Rose-bellied Bunting. As soon as we entered the road we had success: we found several individuals feeding in the vegetation of the area. It was another great moment, having it right there and being able to get good video and photos, especially considering it is a microendemic species with a very restricted range; that road is without doubt the best place to see it. We were all very happy.
We continued on our way: we had to reach one of the highest villages on Tacaná volcano. We drove along the entire coast of Chiapas until we reached the famous village of Chiquihuites, located at 2,055 meters above sea level, the highest point on the volcano accessible by car. We arrived at nightfall and were welcomed by our local guide, Toledo de León, with a hearty dinner.
Over dinner we discussed strategy, the purpose of the trip, camping gear, and all the logistics. Toledo told me he had everything arranged, but he also shared some big news: days earlier he had located the elusive Unspotted Saw-whet Owl. Going for that owl would require moving to a higher section of where the Guan is found, which would change our plan, and with our limited time we weren't sure we could even attempt it. The only opportunity to see the owl was to be successful on the first day of searching for the Guan.
Day 4: The Unicorn of the Mists
We set out early from Toledo’s cabin. Before the hike had even begun, the birds around us were already signaling that the day would be special: Yellow Grosbeak, Cinnamon-bellied Flowerpiercer, Mexican Violetear, Rivoli’s Hummingbird.
The hike was of intermediate difficulty. At a birding pace, slow and attentive, almost anyone without physical limitations can manage it, though certain sections with a considerable incline call for extra care.
Along the way the forest kept delivering great birds: Blue-and-white Mockingbird, Wine-throated Hummingbird, Hooded Grosbeak, Black-capped Swallow, Rufous-and-white Wren, Guatemalan Tyrannulet, among many others.
After nearly three hours of slow walking and birding at every step, we reached the area where Toledo has his Guan records.
The Horned Guan inhabits primarily the densest and most humid cloud forest, where it feeds on fruits, insects, and small invertebrates. To find it, you must push into the most demanding part of the hike: steep slopes, uneven terrain, dense vegetation. There, the only strategy is to go slowly and focus all your attention on its call, a vibrating, electric sound, like a phone buzzing.
We waited patiently. Other sightings filled the silence. And after several minutes, we heard it.
We moved together, slowly, following the vibrations. The Guan was moving along a steep, difficult slope, shifting right to left, restless. At one point I could see it flying toward the other side of the ridge. I shouted to the others: “Get down!” From that angle, at eye level, a perfect window opened through the vegetation, with ideal light.
And there it was. The unicorn of the mists, before us, for several seconds.
I had my camera in hand. I didn't raise it. It was as if I had forgotten I was holding it, as if in that moment the only thing that mattered was making sure all my friends could also see that magnificent bird. The Guan kept moving across the mountain, disappearing into the undergrowth, and it was then that Arturo managed to follow it and capture the photo we kept as a memento. It's not the perfect photo, but it has something that perfect photos don't always have: it carries with it all the incredible memories of that moment.
Very happy, we returned to Campamento Pavón where we spent the night beside a campfire. Beyond the excitement of having seen the Guan, we were deeply satisfied at having achieved our goals, and thrilled because we could now think about our new, unexpected challenge: continuing upward to higher elevations in search of the Unspotted Saw-whet Owl.
Day 5: The Strange Owl
With our modified plan, we had to wake up early and head toward Reserva Papales, ascending several hundred more meters. Toledo had warned us it would be a long hike, but we knew that at a birding pace we would enjoy the journey with many birds, and so it was.
We had new opportunities with the Pink-headed Warbler, good views of Black-throated Jay, Northern Emerald Toucanet, Guatemalan Flicker, Elegant Euphonia, and Broad-tailed Hummingbird.
But one moment I was expecting arrived suddenly: the Black-capped Siskin. A restricted bird, confined to the mountains of southeastern Chiapas and western Guatemala, between 2,300 and 3,100 meters above sea level. A lifer for everyone, myself included. Those are the gifts that only altitude gives.
Tired after many hours of hiking, we arrived at our rustic cabin. With a little light still left, we decided to keep walking, hoping to find the Goldman's Warbler. We searched for hours until night fell, but no luck that day.
We found a small restaurant in the middle of nowhere (one of those remote yet strangely convenient places that make you feel like you're in a cartoon), where we ate something and had coffee before attempting the owl search. Already in darkness, we managed to hear it in the distance. Nervous, knowing we had few chances, we tried to approach. Then the call began to fade, and for a moment we thought we had lost our only opportunity.
We decided to try one more time.
Toledo took the lead. With the calm and knowledge of someone who knows that forest by heart, he guided us through the darkness until the owl appeared. And this time, yes. Clear, clean, unforgettable views.
I cannot put into words what I felt when I saw it. It wasn't just the bird, even though it was a species I had only ever heard from a distance many years ago. It was the place, the absolute darkness of the forest, the altitude, the cold, the friends. It was everything we had walked to get there.
Then Arturo pulled out a bottle of tequila he had carefully kept throughout the entire journey. We toasted in the middle of the forest and, very happily, performed a small celebratory dance. Another magical moment, without a doubt.
Afterward we spent a cold night, with the adrenaline slowly fading, knowing that a long descent toward Chiquihuites awaited us.
Days 6 and 7: The Return
We spent the following morning descending.
After days among mist and altitude, descending toward Chiquihuites felt like returning to the world. Upon arriving, we were welcomed at Toledo's home with a generous lunch.
With energy restored, we made the most of the road from Chiquihuites to Benito Juárez to keep birding. We observed species such as Sparkling-tailed Hummingbird, Emerald-chinned Hummingbird, Violet Sabrewing, and Blue-tailed Hummingbird, birds that in any other context would have been the highlight of the day, and which here joined almost naturally an already extraordinary list.
Then came a long drive to Tonalá.
The following day, the coastal zone of Chiapas greeted us with a completely different landscape. Puerto Arista is another world: mangroves, lagoons, large trees, open areas, ranches. The kind of habitat where the horizon opens up and the birds change entirely. The main targets were the Giant Wren and the White-bellied Chachalaca, and both appeared. We also found the Russet-crowned Motmot, and particularly striking species like the Scissor-tailed Flycatcher and the White-throated Magpie-Jay, along with herons, sandpipers, and many others that were new for the trip.
This was our last birding session, as we had to drive to Tuxtla Gutiérrez where our journey came to an end.
What We Take Home
Species lists are useful. They let you measure, compare, remember. But they're not what you carry home after a trip like this.
What stays in the heart is the motmot at three meters, motionless and perfect. The New Year’s hug in the middle of a dark field. The cry of “get down!” on a misty slope, followed by the unicorn of the mists appearing for a few seconds between the trees. Arturo’s tequila, kept so carefully for days, uncorked in the darkness of the forest above 3,000 meters.
Those moments can't be planned. They simply happen and, when they do, you know you are exactly where you're supposed to be. Those are the ones that, without realizing it, you end up storing in that invisible jar, intact, luminous, waiting for the moment when you need to open them again.
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