B174 Steps Into the Little Forest on a May Morning
By Alejandro Rigatuso, Fundador y Director de Fundación Loros·Reviewed by Alejandro Rigatuso
At 8:19 in the morning of May 5th, Omar opened the door to aviary #3, and B174 lingered for a moment on the threshold. He was a yellow-crowned amazon — Amazona ochrocephala — his green plumage set alight by the morning sun, the yellow crown sharply defined, and those red brushstrokes on his wings that make the species look as though it's always dressed for a celebration. Around his neck still hung the green tag: FL-VN, B174, the bureaucratic name of an animal who no longer needed one.
The bosquesito of the Fundación Loros waited just a few steps away. There is no record of how that first flight went — the field team didn't manage to put it into words before the moment dissolved into silence and foliage — but five photographs and two videos survived from those minutes just before: the parrot leaning out from the enclosure, beak open as though tasting the air, eyes fixed on something only he could reckon with. Omar documented it all with care, the way you document things that will never happen quite the same way again.
About the author
Alejandro Rigatuso · Fundador y Director de Fundación Loros
Alejandro Rigatuso arrived at Fundación Loros after years as Vice President of Growth Marketing at Toptal, bringing with him an unconventional perspective: he knows an animal is well by its eyes, "bright, wide open." Lorenzo, the first parrot released, recaptured several times and always set free to fly again, marked him forever. At dusk, around five-thirty, you'll find him at the Mirador de las Ciénagas or wandering around Cerro El Peligro, envisioning observation towers and hundreds of native parrots soaring over a reserve that an entire community calls their own.
