- Every year, on the Global Big Day, thousands of bird-watchers across the world compete to record as many species of birds as possible.
- In Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, Colombia, bird-watching is central to the conservation movement that has emerged in recent decades.
- Though the region has some of the richest bird life of any place on Earth, bird-watchers note that some species have become harder to come by.
- Birds in the Sierra Nevada are threatened by habitat loss as a result of encroaching agriculture, livestock ranching and deforestation, as well as wildlife trafficking and introduction of predators like feral cats.
It was 3 in the morning when Lorenzo Mora, 41, was getting ready to go bird-watching. This wasn’t just any birding trip: he’d meticulously prepared his boots, clothes, jacket, recorder, speaker, laser pointer, vehicle and binoculars days in advance.
“I went to bed at 6 last night,” he said, as I hopped on the back of his motorcycle. We began a two-hour journey in the darkness, navigating muddy trails to La Cuchilla de San Lorenzo, 2,600 meters (about 8,500 feet) above sea level, near the peak of Cerro Kennedy, in the heart of Colombia’s Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta range.
It was May 11, also known by the bird-watching community as the Global Big Day, an annual event organized by Cornell University’s Lab of Ornithology in the U.S., during which thousands of people across the world aim to record as many bird species as possible in a single day. Using the eBird platform, the event promotes citizen science and conservation. Mora was hoping to beat his personal best and make it into the ranks of Colombia’s top 10 birders.
His family has been growing coffee on the Biscanieves farm in Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, in the northern department of Magdalena, for more than 60 years. From a young age, Mora was always drawn to birds.
“My mom would put food out for them in feeders in the yard, and sparrows, yellow grosbeaks, golden grosbeaks, rufous-collared sparrows would come … that sparked my curiosity.”
His father instilled in him a deep respect for wildlife: “‘No hunting,’ he used to say. It was a household rule.”
In 2010, Mora began working with the ProAves Foundation, a Colombian NGO that works in the heart of the Sierra Nevada and manages El Dorado Nature Reserve, which provides about 800 hectares (2,000 acres) of critical habitat to more than a dozen endangered bird species and is a key stopover on the migratory route for birds breeding in the U.S. and Canada. After gaining more knowledge about birds, Mora moved to the mountain town of Minca and became a birding tour guide. “It’s a well-paid job and a lot of fun. It forces you to learn,” he told Mongabay.
Mora’s ear is unlike any other. In the middle of our conversation and the roar of the motorcycle engine as we climbed the mountain, he suddenly stopped. He turned off the lights and whispered: “An owl.” I couldn’t see his face in the dark, but his excitement was palpable: “A Stygian owl,” he added.
After a few seconds of silence, another owl hooted. “These are different species: the Stygian owl and the Santa Marta screech owl.”
Owls are notoriously hard to spot, but for a birder, recognizing their call can be even more important than seeing them. We stayed there, listening to a concert of sounds that were foreign to me, but as familiar as the alphabet to Mora. Minutes later we went on our way. It was 3:30 a.m., and Mora had had already logged his first sightings.
The Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta is a global hotspot for bird-watching. According to data from El Dorado Nature Reserve and the Prosierra Foundation, which focuses on conservation in this mountain range, there are 630 bird species, or nearly a third of all those found in Colombia, packed into an area smaller than 1.5% of the country’s area. Of these, 22 species are endemic, like the screech owl (Megascops gilesi), found nowhere else on Earth, while 12 are near-endemic. In areas like Minca and San Lorenzo, this remarkable avian diversity has translated into opportunities for sustainable tourism, with iconic birds like the Santa Marta woodstar hummingbird (Chaetocercus astreans) and the Santa Marta parakeet (Pyrrhura viridicata) drawing watchers from around the world.
But it wasn’t always this way. In the 1980s and 1990s, during Colombia’s civil war, Minca was the site of clashes between guerrillas and paramilitaries. In 2006, the demobilization of the Northern Bloc of the United Self Defense Forces of Colombia (UAC), the main paramilitary group in the area, allowed the area to recover. As conflict subsided, ecotourism took hold.
“Back then, no one wanted to come. But after the violence stopped, within two years, lots of visitors started arriving. The change was radical,” Mora said.
During the high season, between December and March and from June to July, Minca receives at least 1,000 tourists, with benefits that ripple across the local economy. The tourism boom has also caused sustainability challenges, such as pollution of the Gaira River due to the surge in visitors and commercial activity. The issue has been publicly denounced by the Magdalena provincial government (known as Corpamag), which has called for greater environmental controls in the area.
With the first light of day, we reached La Cuchilla de San Lorenzo. Mist rolled like a river through the valleys, and majestic snowy peaks came into view. The golden grosbeak (Pheucticus chrysogaster), the same species Lorenzo’s mother used to feed, was the first to appear that morning. With its golden chest and black wings, it fluttered around us for several minutes, singing and posing from the treetops. From the ground, a smitten Mora blew it kisses as if it were a beautiful woman. “This bird is so gorgeous, so lovely,” he said while photographing it.
As we moved along, more birds began to appear: a Santa Marta brushfinch (Atlapetes melanocephalus), a ruddy spinetail (Synallaxis rutilans), a silvery-throated spinetail (Synallaxis subpudica), a rusty-headed spinetail (Synallaxis fuscorufa), a Santa Marta black-cheeked mountain tanager (Anisognathus melanogenys), a cinnamon flycatcher (Pyrrhomyias cinnamomeus) and others.
Bird-watching is more than just watching; it’s a dance of short steps and gentle movements, a ritual of contemplation and listening. It’s about aligning one’s senses with the forest’s rhythms and sounds.
That level of focus allowed Mora to spot a group of Santa Marta parakeets, an endemic and endangered species, at the edge of a hillside. According to ProAves, their population is estimated at 2,500 to 4,800 individuals, with half their habitat lost due to invasive tree species like pine and eucalyptus. Clearing these trees isn’t just a personal achievement for Mora, but a contribution to the scientific community working to protect it.
Just before starting our descent, we paused to take in a view that only the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, the tallest coastal mountain range in the world, can offer: on one side, the snow-capped Bolívar and Colón peaks; on the other, the Caribbean Sea; and in between, perched on a broken palm, two Wagler’s parakeets (Psittacara wagleri) peeking out.
Despite the day’s success, Mora voiced concern over birds he no longer sees as often. “Undoubtedly, the ones I see less and less are migratory birds. I remember when I started out, the black-and-white warbler was easy to find. Now, not so much. Same with the broad-winged hawk and some eagles. I haven’t seen the black-fronted wood quail in a while. Tinamous, which used to appear along the road, are now gone.”
According to ProAves, the main threat to birds in the Sierra Nevada is habitat loss due to the spread of agriculture, livestock ranching and deforestation. Over the past 30 years, Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta National Natural Park and neighboring Indigenous territories in the region have lost more than 80% of their forest cover, while deforestation has accelerated, with nearly 4.2% forest loss in the past decade, according to Global Conservation.
For Sebastián Ballesteros Caro, a biologist and nature photographer who settled near Minca 14 years ago, the primary driver of forest loss is uncontrolled urban expansion and development: “This affects birds directly by reducing their habitat.”
He also cited wildlife trafficking as another key threat. “The local custom of keeping caged birds as pets, although less common now, still exists. This practice poses a direct threat to wild bird populations and reflects a ‘clash of perspectives’ between the respectful observation we try to promote and the cultural tradition of owning animals.”
He added that other threats include pollution, noise, and the introduction of predators, especially feral domestic cats, which are suspected to be responsible for the disappearance of species like the black-fronted wood quail (Odontophorus atrifrons).
Ballesteros Caro arrived here in 2011 with his mother and brother, with a clear purpose: to buy a piece of land not just to live on, but to “coexist with nature and protect it,” turning it into their habitat and a refuge for wildlife.
They moved onto an abandoned coffee farm and transformed it into what Ballesteros Caro calls “a small paradise for nature and us.” They’ve built trails, preserved surrounding forests, planted fruit trees for their consumption, and reforested native species in collaboration with the Bachaqueros Foundation, which carries out reforestation, soil restoration and water source recovery projects in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta. Caro’s philosophy is grounded in the belief that humans are part of nature and can “cohabit with wildlife” sustainably. Their ecotourism venture attracts visitors who seek a private, low-impact experience away from the pitfalls of mass tourism.
Ballesteros Caro blamed ignorance for driving many of the environmental problems he sees, adding that education can tackle them by fostering a more respectful, sustainable relationship with the natural world.
By 8 a.m., Mora had already recorded more than 30 bird species. For him, that day was a chance to showcase his work: “If I’m number one on eBird, more birders will know me. It’s a passion, but also a job opportunity.”
For Ballesteros Caro, the true reward lies in helping people connect with nature. “It’s not about competition — it’s about the bond that’s created with the ecosystem, especially for first-time observers.”
Further down, Luis Acosta, founder of the Santa Marta and Caribbean Bird-watchers Association, was guiding a group to the Minca Bird Observatory on Ballesteros Caro’s property. Along the way, several species flew overhead. Some participants, binoculars in hand, began calling out names. Others, with field guides, tried to identify birds based on the descriptions their companions managed to glimpse against the light.
“What I love about these events is their collaborative nature. They bring together people from different fields for one purpose: to document and conserve,” said Angélica Peña, a 32-year-old teacher from Santa Marta. “You don’t have to be a biologist to enjoy this. As Colombians, we should know our species in order to protect them.”
She said her favorites of the day were the king vulture (Sarcoramphus papa), which she saw for the first time, and the scaled piculet (Picumnus squamulatus), which came just a few meters away.
At the observatory, hummingbirds stole the show: white-vented plumeleteers (Chalybura buffonii), white-necked jacobins (Florisuga mellivora), steely-vented hummingbirds (Saucerottia saucerottei) and rufous-tailed hummingbirds (Amazilia tzacatl) hovered around the feeders installed. But not all hummingbirds are so easy to spot. In the Sierra Nevada, two species are classified as endangered: the Santa Marta sabrewing (Campylopterus phainopeplus), an endemic rediscovered in 2022 after 75 years, and the blue-bearded helmetcrest (Oxypogon cyanolaemus).
Sergio Mendivil Rivas, a biologist and director of ORNIMAG, an avian research collective focused on the Magdalena region, highlighted the sighting of the black-backed antshrike (Thamnophilus melanonotus), a species listed as data deficient in Colombia’s Red List of Birds. “That’s an interesting finding and a valuable contribution,” he noted.
The ORNIMAG team also recorded a Santa Marta dusky-headed brushfinch (Atlapetes melanocephalus) and a Santa Marta woodstar, an endemic hummingbird. The latter has high biocultural value for the Indigenous peoples of the Sierra Nevada, particularly the Kogi, Arhuaco, Kankuamo and Wiwa communities, who associate it with the planting of ayu, or coca leaf, in the earth.
As Acosta’s group wrapped up their day, Mora continued to other hotspots, including El Dorado, Bellavista, Hacienda La Victoria, San Isidro and Gairama, bouncing from place to place like a bird chasing food. At 10 p.m., he texted me: “I’ve made it home. I’m so tired I can’t feel my legs.”
But it was worth it. Mora recorded 205 bird species, the highest number for the department of Magdalena, surpassing his 2024 record of 185 species. His main hotspot, Hacienda La Victoria, had the highest number of birds recorded in the department. Thanks to these efforts, Colombia reclaimed the top spot in the Global Big Day 2025, with 1,564 species sighted.
Mora said he wishes every day were the Global Big Day. “What I love most about being a birder is the peace and the chance to be in the forest. Birding is beautiful therapy.”
Banner image: The swallow tanager (Tersina viridis) is widely distributed across South America, from Panama to northern Argentina. It inhabits forest edges, open woodlands, clearings, secondary growth, and other areas near waters. Image by Charlie Cordero.
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