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No Bird Is an Island

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The park was on the verge of being created six years ago when the Dominican government discovered that 1301 acres in the middle of the proposed area was owned by a private company. Until Reillo came along, the project was dormant. Since early last year, the Rare Species Conservatory Foundation has scraped together $750,000 in donations and loans to help Dominica purchase this private tract of rain forest for the proposed park. But to do so, he has had to sacrifice his life's savings and place the foundation in a precarious financial position.

All to preserve the habitat of a country that most people have never heard of and to protect a bird that most people, even Dominicans, will never see up close in the wild. Depending on the political whims of the Dominican Cabinet, by the time Reillo returns to Loxahatchee three days from now, the park could be a reality.

As we head toward Morne Diablotin in search of the sisserou, Reillo's pack mule for the expedition, Tony Sheets, bounces along in the bed of the pickup. Clad in a black cowboy hat and wraparound mirror shades, Sheets -- a former professional BMX racer from Daytona Beach -- does not resemble your average tree-hugger. But Sheets does have a high tolerance for pain and a keen eye for spotting parrots -- two invaluable assets when working in forests a couple thousand feet above sea level.

Our initial destination this morning is a dead carapite tree just outside the proposed national park that for years has been home to a pair of prolifically breeding jaco, or red-neck, parrots. The tree is only about 15 miles from Roseau, but the twisting drive takes an hour. As we snake northward, the Caribbean Sea stretches out for miles to our left. A car that has plunged off the road onto the edge of the Caribbean ably serves as a warning of the precariousness of Dominican driving. We pass by signs promising that "Guinness Works For You," a testament to Dominica's past as a far-flung outpost of the British Empire. A hand-painted billboard simply proclaims, "Save the Sisserou."

Turning inland from the more populated coastal areas and climbing toward Morne Diablotin, the road changes from blacktop to gravel. Guavas, tangerines, and -- most notably -- bananas, grow along the road on small farms and in the wild. Banana exports have long been the linchpin of Dominica's economy, accounting for more than half the country's employment and better than a third of its export income. But a trade dispute between the United States and the European Union is threatening the banana-based economies of Dominica and other eastern Caribbean countries. In a nation where the annual per capita income is already a paltry $2500, the financial future is bleak. The economic uncertainty adds urgency to the establishment of the national park: As the banana trade tanks, the pressure to embrace environmentally destructive policies, such as logging or mining, will undoubtedly increase.

For the last two years, Reillo and the three-person "parrot team" from the Dominican Forestry and Wildlife Division have monitored the jacos' breeding habits through a video camera at the carapite tree. The surveillance has yielded arcane but scientifically significant data, such as how many chicks the parrots can successfully raise in the wild and how much time the male and female jaco spend at the nest during the mating cycle.

Reillo is concerned that the tree is being infested by termites and that the fertile jacos will be driven out. To determine how much damage the termites have already done to the tree, Reillo intends to "probe" the nest cavity with a still camera to see what is going on inside. He has brought along an ad hoc contraption that consists primarily of yellow fiberglass tubes, one inside the other, that can be expanded outward like a telescope to 40 feet. Attached to the end of the tubes is part of a fishing pole with a tiny camera taped to it. The plan is to maneuver the camera into the nest cavity and snap a picture.

Reillo, who is six feet, four inches tall, holds the camera/fishing pole precariously over his head as Sheets provides geographical guidance. But Reillo is facing a pretty fundamental problem: The probe is too short. "We need the 50 foot," he says in irritation. "I was off by just enough to make this a pain in the neck."

Despite the seemingly critical problem of not being able to reach the nest cavity, Reillo is determined to get a picture. He and Sheets heave a decaying log, about four feet long, lengthwise against the carapite tree, and Reillo climbs atop it. Termites swarm at his arms. Balancing the pole overhead, he somehow manages to maneuver the camera into place -- only to lose power.

The probe is brought back down to the ground, the batteries and wires checked to make sure everything is in place, and Reillo again guides the camera into the nest cavity. But once more the camera blacks out. Finally it's determined that the problem is a splinter in the fishing pole. After some electrical tape repairs, power returns to the camera, and this time Reillo successfully snaps a picture of the jaco nest. By the end of the process, he is sweaty and caked with the rich soil of Dominica.

All for what? A black-and-white image of something blocking the nest cavity. It could be termites, or it could be wood ants -- which are less problematic -- or it could be something else entirely. The picture is inconclusive.

We drive on for a few minutes and climb a hillside overlooking a citrus grove. Almost immediately a squawk is heard and Reillo stops in midsentence to survey the scene. He can spot a parrot and discern its origin as easily as most people tell their left shoe from their right. Two jacos then dart across the sky in tandem, Reillo tracing their path with his finger. The birds are mostly green with a splash of blue on their heads and another swatch of red across the neck. After a few minutes, accustomed to our presence, more jacos soar by, sweeping down to perch momentarily and steal a bite of tangerine off the trees.

"I guarantee you, at least 20 birds can see us right now," Reillo says in awe. "Here we're looking at one of the rarest parrots on earth and yet on any given day you can come up here and see one."

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