When I moved to Tobago in 2012, I lived on the coast, in Goodwood, on a somewhat forested property.
It was in that peaceful, verdant paradise, with sweet birdsong and wind from the sea, that I first encountered the raucous squawking that heralded dawn, dusk, and, sometimes, random moments throughout the day...“Ka-ka-ra-kaaaaaaaaa!”
The call of the cocrico (scientifically known as the rufous-vented chachalaca) is somewhat unspellable. I have seen various attempts online. The aforementioned phonetic endeavour is from UWI’s Online Guide to the Animals of Trinidad and Tobago.
The spelling of the cocrico’s call on the Tobago Beyond Facebook page is “ka-ka-riko-ka-ka-riko” – closer to the sound of its name.
Living with cocricos around me in Goodwood, I developed a fondness for them, mainly through observing their clumsy movements and amusing characteristics. I loved how they flew, in a way that (like bumblebees) seemed to defy physics. They were such heavy-looking creatures, soaring with unexpected elegance across short distances from tree to tree. Their landing was often awkward – descending on branches that dipped and bent under the sudden weight, wings flapping to establish balance.
They would sit in surrounding trees eating a roundish green fruit (I’m unsure of its name), making a big mess on the terracotta tiles around the house.
I noted they were social birds, often in groups, in what appeared to be closely-knit family units. Often two large birds (mother and father) had children in tow (known scientifically as a family group). Social behaviour is crucial to the development of younger cocricos, who are guided and protected by their elders until they are adults.
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In quiet moments, the cocricos would sit together in community, peacefully discussing who knows what, in soft, sweet, chirping tones reminiscent of the pleasant, comforting clucking of chickens. Their bonded flocks are known to stay together – a sign of loyalty, I would say.
Curious by nature, with tiny heads tilted atop cumbersome bodies, they often seemed to be observing me too.
Some might call them ugly or boring, in the way that (I have been told) people in Tobago generally find brown pothounds “too common” and therefore unattractive and of little value. Just as pigeons are, in some places, referred to as “rats of the sky,” perhaps cocricos can be seen as “pothounds of the sky” – common, brown, scavenging creatures, generally unwanted and misunderstood because they are viewed as “pests.”
Owing to habitat loss and hunting, cocricos are a vulnerable species; it is illegal to harm them according to the Conservation of Wildlife Act. Unfortunately, however, some farmers shoot them, as a means of “crop protection.”
I marvel at the fact that a bird considered a destructive “pest” is not only protected but has also been given the honour of being the “national” bird of Tobago. An admirable accomplishment.
In recent news, the Tobago Business Chamber chairman des
