By Alejandro Rigatuso, Fundador y Director de Fundación Loros
José Marín was walking through one of the forest sectors of the reserve when he saw it: a solitary tití cabeciblanco, perfectly still among the tangle of slender trunks and crossing branches. It was March 24th, and the forest was showing its dry-season signs — yellowing leaves, fallen branches, the sky sealed over in grey. The animal was alone, no trace of a group, watching from the dense vegetation with that particular blend of curiosity and caution that defines Saguinus oedipus.
Also recorded that day — and worth setting down here for the analyses that will eventually follow — is that this same sector holds five mango trees. It is not a minor detail: mangoes are a food source, and the titíes know this well. Perhaps that explains the animal's solitary presence at that exact spot, or perhaps it does not — but the coincidence deserves watching.
José documented the sighting with three photographs of the area. The species is listed as critically endangered, and every record gathered in the reserve adds another line to the story of what persists and moves here.
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.
