The Galapagos Archipelago is home to many endemic species, some of them being being both rare and endangered. One such species is the Brujo Flycatcher. Once widespread and found in high numbers in highland and lowlands alike, this little flycatcher has seen a sharp decline due to habitat degradation and introduced predators. Today, the species is only found in the remaining forest in the cloud covered highlands, where it is a seldom seen bird.
As I traveled the Galapagos I heard multiple stories from the local guides I met, sharing their memories of having seen the Brujo Flycatcher around their houses in the lowland villages back when the species was still a common sight - and how its absence nowadays reminded the guides that the archipelago they called home had changed a lot over the last couple of generations, despite the dedicated conservational efforts that the islands are known for.

Having heard these stories I decided that I myself wanted to lay eyes upon the remnant population of this little Flycatcher, and thus planned a trip to the highlands of Santa Cruz, one of only two islands where the species is know to still reside.
I received a tip from one of my guides, who had explored the highland together with one of her friends a couple of years back, where they managed to find the flycatcher, and even enjoy the courtship-flight the the males of this species is know to perform for their would-be mates. They had taken an off-beaten trail that took them through the undergrowth and into the remaining Scalesia-forest that still covers some parts of the Santa Cruz highlands. However, she told me that the trail was only very sparsely used, and therefore may be overgrown and thus hard to find. Despite being aware of this, I carried through with my planning, and arranged a taxi to take me to said location a couple of days later.   

I left from Puerto Ayora with my Taxi driver at 5.00 am, navigating the small streets in the darkness, as the city began to wake up. 
As we drove uphill we left the city and the dry lowlands behind, and entered the highland region. This is the most productive part of all of the inhabited Galápagos Islands, where local farmers grow crops and livestock that benefits from the humidity carried in from the ocean, and condensed as clouds as it hits the island’s ridges. Once covered by native forest, much of this habitat has now been transformed by agricultural activity and the primary and dominating flora consists of introduced species like guava, avocado and blackberry. 
However, it wasn’t this part of the Highlands that was the destination, and we continued along the surprisingly well-managed roads further up into the clouds.
Approximately 40 minutes later we arrived at the place I had in mind; the northern outskirts of the humid forest, from where I had been told the trail could be found.
I thanked the driver, told him I would return after noon, and then headed off with my camera and backpack (I might add that he, the taxi driver, looked rather perplexed as I left - my guess being that he rarely dropped of gringos at dirt-roads only for them to head into the forest for hours)  

The delicate morning light began to intensify as the sun began to rise, but even in the dim dawn light, the birds of the island were already out and about; multiple mixed species groups of Darwin Finches gathered on the dirt road as I walked along, presumably searching for seeds, or maybe minerals or gizzard stones, in the tightly packed mud of the road. The dawn-chorus had also began to wake, as the song and calls of Yellow Warblers and Mockingbirds mixed with that of the various species of finch as well as the continuous din from the insects in the background.

I stopped by a clearing where I could enjoy the view of the rising sun, as the orange rays coloured the Pacific Ocean and illuminated the northern tip of Santa Cruz along with the adjacent islands of Baltra, Mosquera and North Seymour. All of these low islands where, like the lowlands of Santa Cruz, dry and arid areas where cacti and other drought-adapted plants dominate the dry environment and water along with shade is highly sought after, especially in the dry season. However, just a few hundred meters of elevation above, the environment changes character, as a direct result of the increased availability of humidity. Here you can find ferns, soft flowering plants and broadleaved trees and bushes, like the endemic Miconia and Scalesia trees, which are often covered in epiphytic lichens and mosses.

The prevalence of this completely different type of humidity enriched habitat was admittedly one of the biggest surprises for me, when I arrived in the Galápagos islands for the first time, primarily because it offered such a contrast to the dry lowlands, despite being reachable from these by a car ride of only minutes in length. My amazement being a result of the sheer diversity of habitats that the islands offered, despite their relatively small size. Like mainland Ecuador, this insular diversity in different habitat are the direct result of the topographic variation, that separates the terrestrial space land into many different levels, and thus offering a wide variety of ecological niches for species to settle in.

And as I stood there on the edge, where dry scrubland turned into humid forest, I came to appreciate what a refuge this green forest must have been for species arriving in the islands, after having traversed the ocean in search of land.
I took one more look at the beautiful sunrise, before I turned around and headed into the greenery, searching for the upland trail I had been told about. There really weren’t that many options to choose from, and after about 15 minutes of looking around, I decided to follow one path that seemed to lead uphill, further into the forest.
After a bit of hiking, I arrived to a clearing along the trail, where I stopped to observe which birds would move through the area in search of breakfast. In my experience such places where some of the best to look for a variety of species, since the better overview in such clearing allows for easier visual access to a larger area. And in this particular instance, where I was looking for a flycatcher, such a place deserved even more attention; many flycatchers (including the Brujo Flycatcher’s closet relative, the Vermillion Flycatcher) specialise in catching flying insects, hunting their prey using a sit-and-wait technique where they locate insects using their movement-sensitive eyes, and then darts out to catch it mid air, before returning to the same perch. This technique is most effective in places with high flyby rate of insects, typically open areas.  Thus, the open area I found could prove to be the hunting ground for flycatchers.
And indeed it were…but not that of a Brujo Flycatcher. Rather, one of the other endemic, but much more common, widespread and less colourful species; the Galapagos Flycatcher.
Multiple individuals passed through while I waited, joining the breakfast gathering of birds that I observed in the clearing.
The endemic finches were some of the most prevalent species, with the Vegetarian Finch in particular catching my attention.
This rather stocky species is the largest of the Darwin’s Finches, and is specialised in foraging for plant matter, mostly leaves and flower-buds - probably one reason for its large size, since the species needs to have a large gut to digest and get the most out of such a diet. The individuals I observed that morning however, opted for a more sweet breakfast, targeting the fruits found on the invasive Guava bushes.

One other bird moving around in the foliage caught my attention. It was rather well hidden between the branches and their leaves, however its size and skulking behaviour gave me a hint of its identity, and this notion was confirmed once I got a clear view of the bird. With its long tail, buff-coloured breast contrasting with its otherwise brown plumage, and signature black bill it was clearly a Dark-billed Cuckoo that sat in the bush, where it presumably had been observing me unnoticed for a couple of minutes. However, it seemed to want to take a closer look, since it left its hiding, came into the clearing, where it briefly perched on an exposed plant-stem, before gliding into the green thicket beside me.
Here I observed it for a little while, as it rested and preened, before it moved on, continuing its foraging trip elsewhere.

I myself decided to begin to move, following the trail as it turned and started to climb the hillside.

To be continued….