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Letters May 25, 2026

The only parrot in Brazil that migrates.

Every year, 20,000 kites fill the sky — and almost no one knows.

The only parrot in Brazil that migrates.

Every year, 20,000 kites fill the sky — and almost no one knows.

Kacau Oliveira
May 24, 2026

Hello Photographers!

There is a parrot in Brazil that makes a journey of hundreds of kilometers every autumn. And the spectacle takes place in Santa Catarina.

If I told you there's a type of parrot that migrates, you'd probably think it was a joke. Parrots fly, of course, but we associate migration with swallows, geese, those birds that appear in documentaries.

But the red-tailed parrot — Amazona pretrei — does exactly that. Every autumn, between March and May, about 20,000 individuals leave Rio Grande do Sul and fly to the Serra Catarinense in search of a single seed: the pine nut of the Araucaria tree.

And most impressively: when they arrive, the sky over Urupema — the coldest city in Brazil — fills with green and red in a spectacle that looks like a scene from a movie.

I've seen that flock before. And I can tell you: it's one of those experiences that changes the way you understand nature photography.

The red-tailed parrot is the only migratory parrot in Brazil. The reason is simple and beautiful: it depends on the pine nut. When the Araucaria trees of Rio Grande do Sul finish fruiting, the flocks move to southeastern Santa Catarina, where the high-altitude Araucaria trees ripen their seeds a little later.

It's more than 70 km of flight. At once. In a flock. This relationship between the charão (a type of bird) and the araucaria tree is one that you never forget when you witness it. The bird needs the tree, the tree needs the bird—the pine nuts that fall to the ground and aren't eaten germinate. It's pure mutualism, happening right now, in our backyard.

The best time to observe — and photograph — is at dusk, around 4:30 pm. The flocks return to their roosts after a day of feeding, and the sky fills with hundreds, sometimes thousands, of birds flying together.

The sound is deafening. Deep screams, shrill whistles. That kind of noise that sends shivers down your spine.

Visually, it's stunning: the green of the plumage against the autumnal sky, with flashes of red from the open wings. The red mask around the eyes—which gives it the name "charão"—becomes visible when the light hits it from the side.

The epicenter is Urupema, in the Serra Catarinense mountain range, at an altitude of 1,800 meters. The city hosts the Parrot Festival every year in April — the 13th edition took place in 2026, from the 23rd to the 25th. The event is free and includes guided field trips, lectures, photography workshops and, of course, birdwatching.

But you don't have to go during the festival. From March to May, the parrots are there. The festival simply organizes access and brings together a community of people who love the same thing you do.

But how do you photograph all the beauty of these parrots? Here are some practical tips that make all the difference:

For the mass exodus:

For individual details:

What to avoid:

Why does this matter?

The cichlid is classified as Vulnerable by the IUCN. The main threat is not the lack of pine nuts—it's the trafficking of chicks. Capture from nests for sale as pets has drastically reduced the population over the decades.

The deforestation of Araucaria trees also played a role. From the 1920s to the 1960s, the Paraná pine forests were reduced to fragments. The charão tree survived, but its impact depends on the conservation of these remnants.

Photographing the charão (a type of bird) is also documenting its history. Each image you take contributes to showing that this species exists, that it is important, and that it deserves protection.

When photographing the red-tailed macaw, never reveal the location of nests. Trafficking is still a reality, and incorrect information in the wrong hands can be costly for the chicks.

Photographing responsibly means ensuring that this species continues to exist for future generations of photographers.

The red-tailed parrot is one of those species that you never forget after seeing it up close. Its flight in flocks, its sound, its color, its history of dependence on the Araucaria tree—everything connects in an experience that goes far beyond a photograph.

If you've never been to Urupema at this time of year, put it on your list. You don't need to be a professional photographer to be moved by that flock of birds. But if you are, you'll come back with images that tell a story few people know.

And if you've already been, tell me here: which photo stood out to you the most?

If this content inspired you, share it with someone who loves nature photography. And if you want to receive more tips on species, destinations, and techniques, stay tuned — the next topic is already being prepared with care.