Can a species bounce back from being ‘extinct in the wild’? The blue-winged macaw is showing how it can be done.
Pair of blue-winged macaws (Primolius maracana) perched on a branch in Brazil.
Samuel Baylis, Alamy
ByMaría de los Ángeles Orfila
The first step in returning a blue-winged macaw (Primolius maracana) to the Misiones rainforest in Argentina takes place in Dante Di Nucci’s office. There, the veterinarian at the Güira Oga Wildlife Refuge examines the bird’s every feather, takes X-rays, runs blood tests, and treats existing wounds.
The animal refuge center sits in Puerto Iguazú, in the far northeast of Argentina. Decades ago, the blue-winged macaw—a small parrot with bright green plumage, blue wings, and a distinctive red patch on its forehead, back, and belly—flew in noisy flocks over the rainforest.
But with each health check, Di Nucci holds in his hands a species that no longer flies freely in Argentina. Hunting, the pet trade, persecution as an agricultural pest, and the loss of large nesting trees drove the blue-winged macaw to local extinction in the wild, although some birds still survive in captivity.
Today, a conservation program coordinated by Aves Argentinas—with dozens of partner institutions throughout Argentina and Brazil—is trying to bring the blue-winged macaw back to the country. The plan combines the rescue of trafficked birds, captive breeding, and training for their eventual release into the rainforest. The goal is ambitious: to return a species absent for decades to the Misiones rainforest.
(Can these chunky ground-dwelling parrots survive on their own?)
Healing…and finding a mate
In mid-March, Di Nucci held four birds in quarantine, all of them rescued from captivity after being kept as pets or housed in zoos that later shut down. After completing a period of observation and a series of health assessments, the birds were deemed healthy enough to be transferred to the training center at El Puente Verde Nature Reserve, deep in the Misiones rainforest. There, they joined the growing population of blue-winged macaws being prepared for release.
Many of these birds have spent years—sometimes decades—in small cages. Some arrive overweight from diets based almost entirely on fatty sunflower seeds; others can barely fly. Compared to wild birds, the difference is obvious: weak muscles, damaged feathers, and a physical condition that would make long flights in the forest impossible.
But the challenge isn’t only physical.
Macaws that have been domesticated for years often lose something essential for survival in the wild: fear. Part of the work that begins at Güira Oga and continues at Puente Verde is helping them recover natural behaviors—including recognizing humans as a potential threat.
“Learning to fend for themselves after release is what will increase their chances of survival,” Di Nucci says. “And that means recognizing us as a predator.”
(This unorthodox method is saving baby parrots from extinction.)
Not all birds make it that far. Some don’t regain the skills needed for release due to age, physical condition, or the length of time spent in captivity, which can make it harder for to recover full flight and survival behaviors. Instead, they become part of the breeding program, forming pairs that can raise chicks with minimal human contact.
Several birds have already paired up at Güira Oga, and the team is now hoping for good news during the next austral summer, when the species’ breeding season begins.
One such bird is Tormenta, a captive macaw who arrived weak and unable to fly after a powerful storm struck Misiones in 2025. Since then, he has recovered physically and formed a pair with another macaw. “He gives us hope that he might one day father chicks that return to the wild,” Di Nucci says.
The family in the nest
Future generations of blue-winged macaws returning to Argentina aren’t only dependent on the pairs now forming and mating in Misiones, but also across the border in Brazil.
At Parque das Aves in Foz do Iguaçu, 14 chicks hatched during the last breeding season; ten of them are expected to join the Argentine program in the coming months.
“Whenever possible, we let the parents do all the work,” says Bianca Fernandes, who oversees the breeding program in Brazil. “They incubate the eggs and feed the chicks. Our role is simply to monitor.”
Cameras installed inside the nests allow the team to observe the chicks remotely, while staff check on them twice a week. If a chick appears sick or underfed, it is removed for specialized care.
When everything goes well, the scene is quietly intimate: an entire family—three or four chicks per clutch—gathered inside the nest. Seeing parents feeding their young and siblings interacting, Fernandes says, is one of the most rewarding parts of the process.
Those early days are also the most fragile. “We watch the first five to seven days very closely,” she explains. “If a chick survives that critical phase, its chances of healthy development increase dramatically.”
In December 2025, something the team in Argentina had been waiting years for finally happened: The first blue-winged macaw chick recorded in the Misiones in decades hatched at El Puente Verde. They named him Julián.
The moment was celebrated as a milestone for a species once common in the region but now virtually extinct in all of Argentina. But Julián survived only a month.
For conservationists, however, the event still matters. “Parrots learn to be parents through experience,” says Sofía Zalazar of Aves Argentinas. “Sometimes there are losses. If we intervene too much, the adults never develop those behaviors themselves.”
Learning to be wild again
Before the macaws can return to the rainforest, they must learn one final lesson: how to fly.
At El Puente Verde, a large forest aviary functions as a kind of wildlife school where the birds rebuild the basic skills they will need to survive. The training begins with simple movements; some birds manage only short hops at first.
(A clever cockatoo picked up a human skill—and then it spread.)
“It may sound obvious,” Zalazar says, “but not every bird with wings actually flies. It’s like a child learning to walk.”
Gradually, the birds are encouraged to cross the 82-foot aviary, first hopping between branches and eventually flying longer distances.
Personality also plays a role. Parrots, Zalazar says, are similar to how monkeys are viewed in the mammal category—highly intelligent animals with complex social dynamics. Hierarchies form quickly, with dominant birds emerging over more timid ones, and even occasional bullying that can affect confidence.
At the same time, the birds must learn to recognize forest foods. Each day, the caretakers place flowers, buds, and fruits from the rainforest inside the enclosure so the macaws can begin to identify their natural diet.
As training progresses, the aviary doors are opened to feeding stations installed high in nearby trees. There, the birds find familiar food while exploring the surrounding forest and gradually learning to forage on their own.
Learning to eat proves easier than learning to fly. The 11 macaws currently training in the aviary are progressing at different speeds. Some birds adapt quickly, while others require months of practice before they can fly confidently.
Even so, the team is optimistic. As of June 2026, eight birds are expected to be discharged, with the first release of the project scheduled for September 20. Each will carry a small transmitter and will be allowed to return to the enclosure to roost during the first nights after release if needed.
If everything goes according to plan, they could become the first blue-winged macaws to fly freely in Argentina in decades. And if the entire effort succeeds, future flocks could reconnect populations across Paraguay, Brazil, and Argentina—allowing the blue-winged macaw to once again cross the forest skies without borders.
