I have tickets to see this famous play tomorrow. As a birder and long time admirer of this melodious bird I have very mixed feelings about the title, but will watch the show with an open mind. I suspect the title is a metaphor for the loss of innocence, but why pick on this bird? Our language is replete with bird idioms, some of which are easy to understand while others leave one dumbstruck.
Florida Scrub Jay, Aphelocoma coerulescens
Take for instance, “naked as a jay bird”. It is true that jays are naked, but aren’t all birds? You could say naked as a sparrow or pelican, but I suspect you would just receive blank stares. The nude jay bird expression has somehow become ingrained in our lingo and is understood by all.
Muscovy Duck, Cairina moschata
Some of these idioms are derogatory toward birds and were not likely initiated by a true birder. Take for example “ugly duckling” or “bird brain”. In my experience a duckling can appear somewhat bland but I have yet to see one I considered to be ugly. Jennifer Ackerman, in her recent great book, “The Genius of Birds” should once and for all put the use of “bird brain” to rest, perhaps even turning it into a complimentary expression. Incidentally, she put a picture of a naked Scrub Jay on her cover.
Anna’s Hummingbird, Calypteanna
“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush”. Have you ever held a bird? I have twice, one time at a banding station where we netted and banded a tiny hummingbird. Feeling its racing heart, even faster than my atrial fibrillation, was a thrill. The other time was when I rescued a Carolina Wren from my garage after it knocked itself senseless against the window once too often. I would say that a bird in the hand is worth at least six or eight birds in the bush.
Carolina Wren, Thryothorus ludovicianus
“Birds of a feather flock together”. Well, yes and no. One of a birders’ cherished moments is seeing a mixed, or should I say diverse, feeding flock of small passerines pass through the woods. You don’t know where to aim your binoculars or camera first, and by the time you figure that out they have moved on. But the brief feeding frenzy of warblers, tits, and wrens makes your day. I suspect that when the feeding is over they return to own kind.
Palm Warbler, Dendroica palmarum
Back in the 1950s, at least in my elementary school, being “goosed” or “goosing” another unsuspecting kid was great sport. I think this has fallen out of favor. Likely the expression stems from the domestic geese that occasionally peck at you in the barnyard. I can’t imagine a Canada Goose getting close enough to pull that off.
Canada Goose, Branta canadensis
“A little bird told me”. I think my mother used that expression to stop the incessant why’s from an inquisitive young boy, or perhaps to protect the identity of the bearer of some juicy gossip. Blaming it on a bird might have been convenient, but was a real put down for the innocent bird.
Verdin, Auriparus flaviceps
So you get the idea, and I’m sure you can think of countless more. It makes for a good topic for a blog post when you don’t have something more significant to pass on. I have a couple more weeks down here in Florida before joining the other “snow birds” in the northward migration. Another bird idiom–you just can’t avoid them.
After the usual cordial greetings on the trail, and after you eye the binoculars, camera, and lens of the encountered birder, several queries quickly work their way into the conversation. They are often equipment oriented, but frequently are also about ones favorite sites to see and photograph birds. Since there are many snowbirds and first-time visitors to Florida I thought I would list for them my favorite sites which we have visited many times over the last 20 years.
Roseate Spoonbill, Platalea ajaja
In an earlier post I have trumpeted the advantages of having a personal, local patch right outside your backdoor, and one that becomes familiar over years of frequent observation. This post, however, is about public sites in Southwest Florida.
Black Skimmer, Rynchops niger
I’m putting them in the order of my preference, but none are bad sites. In fact any day of birding at any location is enjoyable in my book. One’s choice of birding destination for the day often depends on target birds or rarities reported on eBird. The weather may factor in since some locations involve hiking, while others allow birding by auto. Here they are with a short note about each.
Dinner Island Ranch
Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary
Eagle Lake Community Park
Bird Rookery Swamp
Turner River Road
Ding Darling NWR on Sanibel Island
Clam Pass
Ten Thousand Islands Marsh Trail
Harnes Marsh
Tigertail Beach on Marco Island
I got a little push back from one of my birding companions about the first choice, since it is a 60 mile drive from Naples, way out in the old Florida hinterlands. It is so different from the other more frequented sites, but that is exactly why I love going there. This must be what our state looked like 100 years ago. The huge ranch has unfettered public access and numerous gravel roads traversing miles of flat grasslands, peppered with ponds and pine hummocks. There are grazing cattle with riding egrets, old corrals, and rarely another birder in sight. It’s my best chance to tick meadowlarks, kestrels, caracara, or an occasional Snail Kite. Pack a lunch and water. My life list there measures 62 species.
Eastern Meadowlark, Sturnella magna
Corkscrew is famous, and for good reason. Instead of the big sky and prairie of Dinner Island you’ll find a boardwalk through the cypress swamp, again a vestige of prior times. But this is a more civilized site with bookstore and gift shop, bathroom facilities, etc. You’ll share the boardwalk with many, but that is okay and a reflection of its beauty. Our recent trip was highlighted with good looks at 5 warblers, both buntings, 2 vireos and of course, several gigantic alligators.
Anhinga, Anhinga anhinga
Eagle Lake is just a short hop down Route 41, southeast of Naples. When you pull in you will wonder why such a site made my list, but be patient. Just past the parking lot, tennis courts, ball fields, and public restrooms you’ll find asphalt trails around several large collection ponds. The birds seem to love this suburban setting. Amongst the bikers and joggers we’ve seen several vagrants and rarities there. Whenever I have a new guest to Florida who wants to see birds, I take them to Eagle Lake. My life list there stands at 87 species, the greatest of all these sites.
Sandhill Crane, Antigone canadensis
Before you come to Corkscrew on Immokalee Road you’ll see an unassuming turnoff on the left called Shady Hollow Blvd. At the end of this road is the parking lot to the Bird Rookery Swamp, but slow down. There’s a lot to see on the approach road as it becomes a gravel drive and leaves the new houses behind. We often get great, close-up views or photos of 15+ species in the roadside ditch before we even get out of the car. This is a free site, less visited than the nearby Corkscrew, but similar in flora and fauna. You will first traverse a gravel path, then a boardwalk, and lastly a dirt trail with swamp on either side. A gator often lies across the trail–remember, they can move quickly if hungry. It’s a great spot for a Purple Gallinule and all the Florida waders.
Brown Pelican, Pelecanus occidentalis
Turner River Road (route 839) as the name suggests, is not a simple site, but instead a long road heading north through the unpopulated Big Cypress National Preserve. You’ll find it about 25 miles east of Naples on route 41. If you like to bird-by-auto and cover some miles this one’s for you. It makes sense on a day of iffy weather or when your hips are acting up. You can stop and get out for short walks and better photos along the way. There will be no traffic.
Great Blue Heron, Ardea herodias
Ding Darling on Sanibel Island is a nationally known hotspot. We were just there this week, our first trip since the devastating hurricane. Repairs and rebuilding are underway, but the sanctuary is open and its waders and shorebirds still abound. Bring a scope. It’s my best site for the prancing Reddish Egret and where I finally found a Mangrove Cuckoo.
White-eyed Vireo, Vireo griseus
Beach birding a Clam Pass is a treat. The pass is the inlet and outlet for the tidal mangrove swamp of North Naples. The fish must love the mixing of fresh and salt water and they, in turn attract the beach birds. I’ll often pull a chair among the lounging Black Skimmers and photograph the diving pelicans and terns, hoping for a shot just when the hit the water. Access from the south side of the pass is private, but the north side is a public, with just as good of view. You get to it from the end of Seagate Drive.
Reddish Egret, Egret rufescens
If you want to admire the endless vista of unspoiled Florida swamp, check out the tower at Ten Thousand Islands Park, again off route 41 east of Naples. The birds are generally at a distance, but you’re there for the sheer beauty of this unique habitat. Marjory Stoneman Douglas referred to it as the “River of Grass” in her classic book from 1947.
Mangrove Cuckoo, Coccyzus minor
Southwest Florida is all about water and water management. Canals, holding ponds, roadside ditches, and dikes are everywhere trying to control nature and make this area inhabitable. The Harnes Marsh, just east of Fort Myers is such a site, and a very bird friendly location. It’s great for a close up shot of Sandhill Cranes, Swamphens, and perhaps a flyover of a Snail Kite, Limpkin, or Northern Harrier if you’re lucky.
Burrowing Owl, Athene cunicularia
Lastly there is Tigertail Beach on Marco Island. As you drive through Marco look out for the stakes marking the location of the Burrowing Owls nesting on the vacant lots. It’s a great chance for a close up shot of the small photogenic birds. At the beach you will note several habitats. Trees around the parking lot host many passerines. On the first beach at the tidal estuary you’ll often see various peeps and waders. If you’re brave, roll up your pants and carry your expensive camera across the shallow tidal pool to the dunes where you’ll find the real ocean beach and its gulls, terns, and more shorebirds.
This post could go on forever since we are blessed with a birdy region, but I’ll spare you. Happy birding for now and let me know if I’ve omitted your favorite site.
This is what you get when you allow a non-birder astronomer to name an object in the heavens. This is no seagull. Take it from me, a budding astro-ornithologist. “The Crested Caracara Nebula” would have been a much better choice. Notice the crest and the bulky down-turned beak. A seagull sports neither of these features. One might briefly even consider calling it a Blue Jay or Cardinal Nebula, but Caracara is a much better moniker.
Juvenile Herring Gull (I think)
I suspect some compassionate astronomer wanted to placate a lowly bird that gets no respect. You find these monochromatic gulls lurking at the beaches, stealing children’s toys and sweets right from their little hands. That is, when they are not at the town dump foraging among the piles of garbage. You’ll occasionally meet a birder who is a seagull expert, but these are rare ranking right up there with sparrow experts. You have to hand it to them, sorting through the flock to find that lone Franklin Gull, or traveling great distances to see a vagrant Sabine or Glaucous Gull.
Crested Caracara
We have, over the centuries, placed birds in lofty perches in the heavens. For instance, the constellations Cygnus the Swan and Aquila the Eagle. The constellation Grus, Latin for crane, is only visible in the southern hemisphere. I am only aware of this one tribute to the lowly gull, however, and the nebula is not even visible to the naked eye. Pete Dunne and Kevin Karlson wrote a great book entitled “Gulls Simplified”. I bought a copy thinking it would clear up my gull identification woes, but not so fast. These look-alike species progress through their various plumages year by year, making an ID difficult. The common Herring Gull doesn’t even don its adult feathers, free of the brown juvenile traces, until the spring of its fourth year. Give Dunne and Karlson credit for at least trying to clear these muddy waters.
Blue Jay
Back to the heavens. It was a cold clear winter night, shortly before Christmas, when I took this photo of the Seagull Nebula. As I mentioned in an earlier post, my photography and observational techniques honed in daylight tracking the birds, have switched to the night skies and its various wonders. This nebula is near the bright star Sirius, just on the border of the constellations Canis Major (The Great Dog) and Monoceros (The Unicorn). This is both an emission and a reflection nebula. The bright star forming the eye of the gull or caracara is a young, highly energetic star whose radiation excites the surrounding cloud of hydrogen. This excited gas then emits it radiation in the red part of the visible spectrum. My picture is made by stacking several hours of three-minute exposures, capturing photons that left their source 3800 years ago, about the time that the mammoths were heading to extinction down on Earth.
Northern Cardinal
I could bore you to tears describing the differences between astro and bird photography, but let me pass on this one contrast. Birds move randomly and we must chase them with our cameras and lenses hoping for a lucky shot. The stars and nebula move also, but it in a predictable pattern that can be compensated for with a smart motorized telescope mount. What’s even better, that smart mount can slew to any nighttime object we ask it to locate. I doubt we’ll ever have a similar arrangement with the birds.
What was this bird thinking, leaving its familiar year-round home east of the Andes in South America, and flying all the way across the Gulf of Mexico to Southwest Florida? Was its internal compass whacky, or perhaps it just was tired of the same-old, same-old of Brazil? Just outside Naples, Florida it has become a celebrity bird, attracting hard-core birders from far and wide hoping for a look and lucky photo.
Royal Tern, Thalasseus maximus
The Large-billed Tern, Phaetusa simplex, is the only member of its genus and clearly an odd-looking tern. A yellow, Jimmy Durante bill and the distinct black primaries and white secondaries, along with the gray back are quite distinctive.
Greater Yellowlegs, Tringa melanoleuca
This rarity in Florida was not an easy “get” for Andy and me, despite it being reported in eBird at the same general location nearly everyday since June. Andy, in Massachusetts and I in Maryland were locked into our summer routines, and not quite fervent-enough chasers and listers to hop on a plane and enter the Florida heat and humidity for one life bird. Perhaps two would have been enough, though.
Painted Bunting, Passerina ciris
But as soon as we arrived this fall it was on to Eagle Lake Community Park and Lely Resort just south of Naples on the Tamiami Trail. This is not a Florida wilderness with its water park, tennis courts, soccer and baseball fields, and gaudy giant horses guarding the entrance to the resort, but apparently the birds love it. The runoff drainage lakes and surrounding mixed habitat of slash pines and shrubs attracts a great collection of song and water birds, and some hunting raptors. The tern had stumbled onto the location, liked what it saw, and settled in for the long haul, cavorting with the Royal Terns and an occasional Black Skimmer.
Black Skimmer, Rynchops niger
Our first visit to the site was a dud. I saw a tern that seemed a little darker than the other Royals and maybe had a yellowish bill, but Andy was a skeptic. It was wishful thinking of a rarity chaser on my part. A passing birder who had seen the bird earlier weighed in with Andy and we went home empty handed. I did see a Painted Bunting and a juvenile Bald Eagle along with the usual water birds. There is never a bad day birding. Alas, eBird reported the target tern at our location just 30 minutes after we left.
Bald Eagle, Haliaeetus leucocephalus
The Large-billed Tern generally likes freshwater lakes and their sandy beaches, so our bird had read the books. In non-breeding season they do flock up and head to the ocean beaches and mangroves of Brazil. This species was first described in the western literature by Englishman John Latham in 1785 while his country was busy losing its North American colonies to the American Revolution.
Least Tern, Sternula antillarum
Our second attempt the next day was the charm. Andy thought a visit at exactly the time it was seen on the prior day might bear fruit. This time I was the skeptic; birds can’t tell time. The first lake just yielded the fishing Royals again, but we did meet a birder who had seen it down by the horses earlier in the day. You can always tell a “real” birder by their brand of binoculars and camera, the size of their lens, and their dress. Birders are not slaves to fashion…she looked like the real thing.
Anhinga, Anhinga anhinga
I came up with a divide and conquer strategy which bore fruit. I would stay in the shade by the first lake while Andy hiked down to the horses to check out the other two lakes. We would stay in touch by cell phone. It wasn’t long before I saw a tern with dark wings flying toward Andy over the horses and palms. He answered his phone just as he spotted the bird landing on a sandy beach next to several Blue-winged Teals. Our pictures were from 100 yards and not perfect. We never did get the coveted flight shot, but you cannot expect everything.
Large-billed Tern, Phaetusa simplex
I realize that this is my first blog posting in over a year. Life and other pursuits have intervened, but I still have that birding bug. In the last year I’ve written a birding book, Winging It, The Musings of a Birder, and have become engrossed with a new hobby of astrophotography. I’m still looking up through a glass and taking pictures, but its after dark and the targets are out of this world. I’m not sure what the future of this blog is, but am happy that readers are still visiting it and enjoying the old posts.
My number 1000 was a Spot-crowned Woodcreeper seen on a mountain trail above the Savegre Lodge in Costa Rica. It was one of those strenuous days when our guide, Olivier Esquivel, was pushing Mel and me past our comfort zones. I was lagging behind on the narrow trail, just putting one step in front of the next, trying to keep up. Ollie and Mel waited patiently for me to catch up whenever they spotted a new bird. Now I’m glad they did. On March 14, 2022 I saw the woodcreeper.
Red-legged Honeycreeper, Cyanerpes cyaneus
Unfortunately I did not get a picture of the now famous bird, but did get a reasonable shot of his cousin, the Streak-headed. These birds are active, medium-sized woodcreepers usually found in the highland forests. As the name suggests you’ll discover it creeping up the trunks, poking its curved bill into the epiphytes looking for insects. I remember having a hard time spotting it, but finally got a reasonable binocular view with an assist from the laser pointer.
At the time we did not know my milestone had been reached. I knew we were closing in on it, but the tabulating was left to supper time, back at the lodge where the breathing was easier and we had a chance to reminisce about our day. Raised drinks and a small celebration occurred before we planned for the next day’s birding. Dinner tomorrow would be on me, as a gesture of appreciation for the guidance of Ollie and the encouragement from Mel.
Mel and I, somewhere on the trail in Costa Rica.
Like many birders, I’m a little sheepish in admitting to the listing habit. Aren’t we suppose to revel in the mere observation of the avian world, noting bird behavior, mating and nesting habits, etc., while we explore their world in our backyard and abroad? But to my way of thinking record-keeping only enhances this pastime. Where did I first see that bird; how many birds have I seen in Florida this year; or what is my current yard or patch list? All of these are easily answered if you use eBird.
King Vulture, Sarcoramphus papa
The world has seen some serious bird listers. John James Audubon’s four volume set, The Birds of America could be considered his list of 435 species. Three birders mentioned elsewhere in this blog are Phoebe Snetsinger, Kenn Kaufman, and Noah Strycker. In her incredible lifetime Phoebe created a world list of 8398 birds, but died doing it. Ken made a record 671 sightings for a 1973 record in North America when he was still a teenager. More recently in 2015 Noah, a 28 year-old, established a one year world mark of 6042. Now that’s a big year!
Great Curassow, Crax rubra
eBird is a database of the world’s bird observations submitted by amateurs and scientists alike. It was launched in 2002 by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology and the Audubon Society as a tool for tracking bird distribution and abundance. It accepts over 100 million bird sightings a year and makes all this data available to every user. You can easily determine what birds are being seen at virtually any location in the world on any given day, current or past. It is valuable for planning a birding trip or for chasing rarities. Your interface in the field is your smart phone. The program will even question you if you try to enter a bird not usually seen at your location. You can also add photos and birdsong recordings.
Yellow-headed Caracara, Milvago chimachima
Better yet, the tool is a permanent record of all your personal observations that can be sorted by location or date. We birders are a somewhat obsessive compulsive group and this software nicely satisfies that exact character trait. If you are a new eBird user you can add all you old sightings and bring your life list up to date. All of this is free; one of the best bargains you’ll find.
Orange-collared Manakin, Manacus aurantiacus
I was an early convert to eBird and added my hand written data going back to 1983. The first entry was an Osprey seen at an old farmhouse we rented for a couple years on the Chesapeake Bay. My 500th bird was a Bewick’s Wren we ran across high in the Chiricahua Mountains of Arizona on November 30, 2016.
Bewick’s Wren, Thryomanes bewickii
Now that the 1000 bird milestone has been reached and surpassed (the final count after Costa Rica is 1092), is 2000 in my sights? I don’t think so. Even though I’ve seen only ten percent of the world’s birds, adding to the list becomes harder and harder. To add more you must travel further from home and spend much more time and money. The legs and other body parts are no longer young. Oh, I’d like to take a trip to Patagonia; I’ve never laid eyes on a penguin. A trip to Alaska would be great, but I suspect New Guinea and Australia will be left for another life. For now I’m content to just return to my home patch and check up on the Cardinals and Jays. They’re pretty impressive themselves.
It was 1530 when Tecun Uman decided he and his Mayan people had had enough from the Spanish conqueror Pedro de Alvarado. He entered battle armed with just a bow and arrow and a beautiful green bird perched on his shoulder for good luck. He was fighting the armored conquistador mounted on horseback. It was unfair from the start and after a heroic fight Tecun was run through with a spear and killed. The quetzal, however, survived, landed on his vanquished master’s chest and bathed himself in the red blood. The previously all-green bird now donned the amazing resplendent colors we see today, but as a sign of grief it vowed to never sing again until the land was free.
Resplendent Quetzal, Pharomachrus mocinno (photo by Ryan Acandee, CC by Wikimedia Commons)
When a birder chooses to visit Costa Rica for the first time the Resplendent Quetzal is usually the number one target on the list. Olivier, our guide, and my birding companion Mel, designed the itinerary with a two-night stand at the beautiful Savegre Hotel and Spa with this in mind. It’s in the foothills of the Talamanca Mountains, several winding miles off the Pan-American Highway. The gravel road descended into a valley along the Savegre River to the lodge, still nestled 7000 feet above sea level.
The Quetzal inhabits the montane cloud forests of southern Mexico and Central America and is a cavity nester, often taking over and remodeling the vacant homes of woodpeckers. In fact, our guide and many of the hotel’s guests knew the location of an active nest just up the road. The cameras were loaded and with great anticipation that was our obvious first stop at the break of day.
The Resplendent Quetzal is the largest bird in the Trogonidae family. All of the members are large and colorful, and so very different than any of our birds. They are generally sedentary and if you’re lucky you may spot one between the branches posed for a photograph. We were fortunate to see seven of the ten Costa Rican species on our recent trip.
Gartered Trogon, Trogon caligatus
The resplendent male is an amazing emerald green that seems to glow in the sunlight. The lower chest is red with the lower body and tail showing areas of contrasting white and black. The male sports long green plumes that trail behind in flight. When perched these feathers hang several feet below the bird. My first photos were zoomed too tightly before I realized the extent of the tail.
When we arrived at the hollow tree there was already a small crowd gathered staking it out. I noticed that among the obvious birders there were many brightly dressed tourists without binoculars and cameras other than their smart phones. This bird clearly draws fans from far and wide, even the non-birders. The watchers told us that in the very early dawn light the male emerged from the hole and flew off, and was replaced with the less resplendent female. We could barely detect her head in the dark hole, and after a short wait and several poor photographs we decided to resume the quest for the male elsewhere. Apparently their tag-team approach to nesting and incubation is characteristic of the species.
Quetzal hole with female barely visible
Less than a mile up the dirt road we found a parked tour bus and a much larger crowd. This time there was clearly more excitement in the air with scopes and cameras aimed out over the ravine toward a dense tree. Somehow someone had spotted the well camouflaged bird and cameras were clicking away. I had great difficulty seeing the bird but finally took a few shots through a small gap in the foliage, zoomed to the maximum. Suddenly the bird took off and flew right over the road and crowd, with feathers streaming behind. I wish you could have heard the squeals of delight from everyone. I was much too slow to get a flight shot, but he landed just a hundred yards down the road. I was swept in the stampede toward the new perch. This one was a bit better, but his back was still turned to the crowd. I never did get a photo showing that red breast.
The Quetzal Crowd
You have to wonder at the selective advantage of evolving such bright colors and long gaudy feathers. They must make take-offs and landings difficult. I’m told that the iridescent green feathers resemble wet leaves and helps the bird hide in the forest from his main predators, the hawks, eagles, and owls. I’m sure the female quetzal must have played a critical role in this evolution, likely demanding the resplendent display when choosing a mate.
My photo of the Resplendent Quetzal
Unfortunately the population of the Resplendent Quetzal is decreasing, but not yet severely depressed. It’s estimated that up to fifty thousand birds remain. Their primary threat is from deforestation and loss of habitat. The conquistadors have long since moved on, Costa Rica is free, and once again the wicka-wicka call is heard as this spectacular bird flies by.
How can this small tropical Central American country, the size of West Virginia, be home to so many birds? It claims 903 species, significantly more than all the mainland United States. In thirteen days of what this somewhat out-of-shape, 70 year-old birder would call hard core birding, we saw 381 different birds.
Pale-billed Woodpecker, Campephilus guatemalensis
I was fortunate to join my Florida birding companion, Mel, and be guided by Costa Rican Olivier Esquivel as we travelled and sampled most of the various habitats of this beautiful land. The narrow country is bordered on the east by the Caribbean Sea, and on the west by the Pacific Ocean. Shifting tectonic plates have raised towering volcanic mountain ranges aligned along the center of Costa Rica, exactly at right angles to the northeast hot and humid trade winds of the Caribbean.
Olivier, me, & Mel
My initial impression of the land was from the air as we landed at San Jose. Other than the coasts and Central Valley, this is sparsely populated and rugged terrain. As Olivier said, “if they ironed the country flat it would be the size of Texas”. As we careened around the hills and switchbacks, often on gravel roads, this became quite clear to Mel and me.
Turquoise-browed Motmot, Eumomota superciliosa
When the prevailing trade winds meet the the uplands they unload their moisture on the Caribbean slope. This creates the specific wet habitats both in the lowland jungles, and further up the cooler slopes. On the opposite Pacific side the uplands and coast are dry; all this explains the many varied habitats, home to differing and often unique bird species.
The view from Copal Lodge
We birded and sweated in the steaming lowlands and on the next day donned down vests, birding at 10,000 feet. The various habitats, along with the numerous migrants, make Costa Rica a bird-friendly locale and a paradise for birders.
Costa Rica with our birding sites highlighted
The country is a safe, stable democracy, being one of only a few sovereign nations without a standing army. Its economy was initially dependent upon agriculture, but more recently has become a Mecca for ecotourism. My visit was a second attempt, the first cancelled in 2021 due to the pandemic.
Olivier and Mel designed an ambitious itinerary of dawn-to-dusk birding, with even an evening session for nightjars and owls. We sampled most of the habitats and rarely entered a restaurant, morning, noon, or night without binoculars or cameras; you never know when a new bird will show up. Our lodging was generally spartan. As Olivier said, why waste money on luxury when we will only be stopping for some sleep. If I go again I might upgrade the accommodations somewhat.
Magnificent Frigatebird, Fregata magnificent, on the Tarcoles River
One’s first exposure to the stunning colors of the tropical birds is unforgettable. The Toucans, Parrots, Hummingbirds, Tanagers, and Trogons are spectacular and so different from our home species. You wonder why the bland Clay-colored Thrush is the national bird. As Olivier quipped, “that’s what you get when you let politicians pick the bird”.
Emerald Toucanet, Aulacorhynchus prasinus
Most of our lodges had surrounding gardens, short trails, and feeders that would have satisfied me with photographic opportunities for hours, but Olivier wanted us to also sample the shier species that lived more remotely. We might trek three or fours hours, up hills and deep into ravines in order to find a few more birds, but at the end of the day there was great satisfaction with these more rare sightings.
A roadside stop
I can give future travelers a couple hints. Bring rain gear as it can rain at anytime, especially in the eastern half of the country. Bring a flashlight for nighttime birding, but also for power failures at the lodge. Apply fly dope and sunscreen liberally; you’re only a few degrees from the equator. Watch out for poisonous vipers; they may be hanging from trees at perfect head height. And lastly, don’t stand on a highway of army ants as I did. They can spoil your whole trip.
Violet Sabrewing, Campylopterus hemileucurus
On the last day of our adventure, Mel and I, weary but happy, were looking forward to the flight home. But Olivier, ever the birder, was looking for a few more species to add to our trip list. While I was humming, “Do You Know the Way to San Jose” he was pointing out new birds, even in the Walmart parking lot right next to the airport. We could not have found a more energetic and knowledgeable guide.
Welcome and refreshing Coconut milk on the go
In future posts I hope to share more observations of Costa Rican birds and describe some of the specific sites we visited. Till then.
It’s said that the avian families of Larids, along with the Corvids, are the most intelligent of the birds. I have no reason to doubt this, especially after seeing the gull standing watch over the sand castle on the beach at Sanibel Island, Florida. I may not be able to convince you that the bird built the castle, but one cannot entirely rule that out. During the same birding excursion I saw this very same bird dropping shells from great heights onto hard surfaces, making use of Newtonian Laws to obtain its meal. They’re smarter than you think.
Boat-tailed Grackle, Quiscalus mexicanus
I tried to convince my birding companions into a Big Day birding in Southwest Florida, but the enthusiasm was muted, and instead we headed to Sanibel Island for a more sedate session. That’s not to say it was not enjoyable or productive. Sanibel, and its companion Captiva, are barrier islands off the west coast of Florida, formed 6,000 years ago by the currents of the Gulf of Mexico. The Calusa were the first human inhabitants, but the birds predated even them on this semi-tropical gem. A causeway was built from the mainland in 1963 and extensive human development followed. Luckily, for us and the birds, more than half of these islands are protected wildlife sanctuaries.
Yellow-crowned Night Heron, Nyctanassa violacea
The birding started while driving the long, elevated causeway. Brown Pelicans, Osprey, and gulls flew along a eye level tempting us with flight shots out of the moving car. Forget it; it never works. Our first stop was at the Sanibel Lighthouse and beach at the far southern tip of the island. During the spring migration of 2020 we witnessed an impressive fallout of warblers in the scrub brush surrounding the lighthouse. Apparently the north-bound migrants, exhausted from their long flight over the Gulf, replenish themselves at this welcome sojourn. It was quite a show then, but this January the shrubs were empty.
Sanibel Lighthouse, Sanibella illuminata
The beach however was crowded with both birds and people. The latter were busy fishing, searching for shells, sunbathing, or just strolling. We three birders, ladden with cameras and binoculars were in a definite minority. Gulls, including the Lesser Black-backed, were the most common birds seen. There was a resident Reddish Egret dancing in the surf, and a nesting Osprey as well. An informed birder clued us into a recent sighting of a Snowy Plover a half mile up the beach, but we never found it.
Lesser Black-backed Gull, Larus fuscus
The Reddish Egret deserves a special mention. Other egrets are quiet waders and patient fishers. The Reddish, however, dances and flails in the shallow water as if it is half starving. Its impatience reminds me of fishing with my grandson who is constantly moving the pole and line, checking the bait, and generally acting like a normal pre-adolescent. Some say the antics of the bird are meant to create shadows and confusion among the fish below. It must work. If you’re on the lookout for this bird, beware that “reddish” is the correct description. It is more a dirty pink / rust / purple mix, than genuine red, and has a rare all-white morph thrown in just to keep us birders on our toes.
Reddish Egret, Egretta rufescens
Then it was off to the famous Ding Darling NWR, the place where we finally found the elusive Mangrove Cuckoo last year. This is one of the places east of the Mississippi that all birders have heard of, and most have visited more than once. I place it on a short list, along with Magee Marsh in Ohio, and Cape May, New Jersey as our eastern birding Meccas. The refuge is on the inland side of the island with a long one-way road cutting through the mangroves with tidal pools on each side. Mel did the driving while Andy and I called out the stops at each wide vista. If we were doing a “big day” you could drive through without stopping and still tick off most of the birds, but we decided to take our time and enjoy the scenery, birds, and fellow birders, many of whom had birding stories to share.
Snowy Egret, Egretta thula
We did not see the Mangrove Cuckoo this year, but did get some good shots of the more common waders. There were also a few shorebirds sighted at some distance. A flock of Dowitchers flew in, and as is inevitable, a debate ensued whether they were the short or long-billed species. This can quickly take you into the birding weeds, except for Andy who hedged by declaring that there were some of each.
Brown Pelican, Pelecanus occidentalis
Ding Darling is also noted for its wintertime flocks of the American White Pelican. Apparently the birds breed inland throughout the continent but spend their winters along the coast. It is appreciably larger than its more common cousin, the Brown Pelican, and is among the heaviest of all the flying birds. Smartly, it has given up the dangerous diving antics of the Brown for a much less showy and risky bottoms-up feeding behavior, similar to the dabbling ducks.
American White Pelican, Pelecanus erythrorhynchos
I”m still pulling for a Big Day down here in Florida, trying to surpass our 80 species count of several years ago. But with gasoline prices rising, paling energy, and the fun of just birding slowly, it will understandably be a hard sell. The alternative is not bad.
I’ve started, and then abandoned several blog postings in the last two months; life intervened. But now I find it’s time for the year-end summary of the year’s photos. I was going to write about seeing the amazing Tropical Kingbird near here in the Maryland wetlands, thousands of miles north of its usual haunt. Actually it was spotted from my backseat by the non-birder, Cora and photographed by her husband, Clyde, with his cell phone as I was showing off the scenery of the Blackwater NWR to these visitors from Arizona.
Brown Pelican, Pelecanus occidentalis
Carolina wren, Thryothorus ludovicianus
Tricolor Heron, Egretta tricolor
Red-bellied Woodpecker, Melanerpes carolinus
I meant to write about the recent excursion to the Dinner Ranch with Andy and Mel in remote southern Florida, far from the populated coast, and our sighting of 40+ species (depending on who’s counting) including those of the omni-present singing Meadowlarks.
Eastern Meadowlark, Sturnella magna
Sandhill Cranes, Grus canadensis
Common Gallinule, Gallinula chloropus
Or I could have written about my reluctant conversion to a mirrorless camera, leaving behind the heavier but reliable Canon DSLR. I’m increasingly using a Pansonic Lumix G9 camera which has a small 4/3’s sensor and an array of lighter lenses. The reduced weight will be welcome on the 13-day trip to Costa Rica we’re planning this spring.
Crested Caracara, Caracara cheriway
Great Egret, Ardea alba
Anhinga, Anhinga anhinga
Grooved-billed Ani, Crotophaga sulcirostris
I’ve been having this debate with myself; when does one have enough bird photos? How many shots of fishing Osprey, diving Pelicans, or singing Meadowlarks is enough? Maybe it’s time to bird without a camera, enjoying the view through the binoculars without worrying about the sun angle, camera settings, and obtaining the perfect shot. This debate will go on, and may never conclude, but in the meantime these are my favorite photos from 2021.
Red-shouldered Hawk, Buteo lineatus
Mottled Ducks, Anas fulvigula
Belted Kingfisher, Ceryle alcyon
Black-crowned Night Heron, Nycticorax nycticorax
One last triumph to end the year. Two nemesis birds, which did their best to evade me over the years, finally succumbed to my persistence, or more likely, just dumb luck. One was that Mangrove Cuckoo which we saw at Ding Darling on Sanibel Island, Florida, posing in plain sight and creating a traffic jam of grateful birders on the causeway.
Mangrove Cuckoo, Coccyzus minor
Great Blue Heron, Ardea herodias
American Kestrel, Falco sparverius
Eastern Phoebe, Sayornis phoebe
The other was the Snowy Owl spotted just this week on the dilapidated lighthouse in the Choptank River, off Cambridge, Maryland. My daughter sent me a stuffed Snowy Owl last Christmas, commiserating with my fruitless efforts to see this bird, but I can now return the gift to her. I almost gave up on seeing the bird that was reported on eBird along the Cambridge waterfront, when I noted a small white lump on the side of the lighthouse, about 3/4 mile offshore. A scope and heavily cropped picture below certifies the sighting to the left of the “danger” sign. The picture does not really qualify as great, or even good, but I include it to celebrate this great ending to another year.
Snowy Owl, Bubo scandiacus
Reddish Egrets, Egretta rufescens
I admit to some birding fatigue as the year winds down and as the new hobby of astrophotography takes root, but that Snowy Owl, the celebrating Reddish Egrets above, and the upcoming Christmas Bird Count have revived my enthusiasm once again. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all.
It’s just a bowl-shaped pile of sand left behind by the retreating glacier at the end of the last Ice Age. I visited the island off the coast of Massachusetts recently, and of course found it to be more than a geological afterthought. In fact, Nantucket, the prior home of whalers, has become a tourist destination for humans and a popular layover site for migrating birds. Some, birds and humans, have set up permanent housekeeping on the picturesque island, and I’m fortunate to know a couple of the human variety.
American Crows, Corvus brachyrhynchos
When we arrived the island was still abuzz about the recent sighting of a rarity; a Gray Heron and record new bird for the state. The first time this species was seen in North America was on the Pribilofs of Alaska in 2007, with later appearances in Newfoundland and the Caribbean. What makes the sighting even more unlikely was the astute birder; Skyler Kardell, an eighteen year-old working as a costal steward at the Tuckernuck Land Trust.
Sankaty Head Light
He could have easily dismissed the bird as just another of our common Great Blue Herons, since the Gray Heron is very similar. I know that I would have just ticked another GBH and moved on. But the young birder felt the bird was a little paler and the neck, bill, and legs slightly shorter than those of the Great Blue. Luckily he took pictures and presented them to the “Birding Gods” who concurred with his rare find.
Song Sparrow, Melospiza melodia
As you can imagine this led to a feeding frenzy of birders wishing to view the rarity and add it to their state or U.S. lists. Flight shots of the bird showed a missing flight feather. Some impressive observer recollected an earlier sighting of a similar bird last summer in Nova Scotia, missing that same feather. Subsequent views of the bird, presumably a vagrant from Europe, with the missing feather were recorded in Chincoteague, Virginia, likely during its migration to warmer climes. Mystery solved.
A Sconset cottage
My professional training was as a radiologist; an observer of fine details, small deformities and deviations from normal anatomy that may presage serious disease. I remember being chastised as a budding resident physician by a professor for jumping to conclusion before considering other less likely diagnoses. I’m still doing that as a birder, forty years later.
Herring Gull, Larusargentatus
Andy and I were birding near Madaket at the western end of Nantucket last week. It was a beautiful Indian summer day, which unfortunately also brought out the mosquitoes and probably some ticks as well. We were trudging across one of the island’s vast, undeveloped moors when I spotted a bird perched on a distant shrub. It was too big for another of the ubiquitous Song Sparrows that we were seeing.
Merlin, Falco columbarius
We crept closer, stopping to take shots every several strides, me with my 400mm and Andy with his cannon-like 800mm lens. I declared it to be an American Kestrel, but Andy was not so sure. He favored Merlin, pointing out some markings that I had dismissed. As you know these falcons are quite similar with a female Kestrel about the same size as a male Merlin. The bird spooked before we could get a good picture, and we debated the issue as we returned to the car. But just as we were pulling away the same bird flew by and perched on a roadside post close by.
Colleague with the 800mm
I fired away from the passenger-side window, while Andy quietly snuck out and got a much better view with the sun at his back, allowing a pleasing bokeh background. He flaunted the risk of Lyme Disease and Eastern Equine Encephalitis to get that perfect shot. The posing bird seemed unusually comfortable with us so close. I took fewer shots from the car, but enough to realize that once again I had spoken too soon; it was a Merlin.
Andy’s Merlin
The lesson is that first impressions and intuition are often wrong. But I’m in good company. We thought the Earth was flat for eons and up until 100 years ago we assumed that the Milky Way was the entirety of our universe. Both wrong, making my mistaken Kestrel pale in comparison.
Sanderlings, Calidris alba
I suspect our favorite place to bird on Nantucket is at Great Point, a long sandy spit projecting northward from the far eastern edge of the island and punctuated by an old abandoned lighthouse. Getting there is a bit of an adventure requiring a four-wheel drive, half deflated tires, and some perseverance to follow the rutted paths through the loose sand until finally reaching the hard packed beach. The best birding there is with frequent stops along the breaking surf, positioning the car to get shots out the window, while keeping a wary eye on the rising tide.
Lesser Black-backed Gull, Larus fuscus
There were no unusual birds sighted that day, but it’s always fun debating the leg color of the gulls; are they yellow or pink? Is that a Lesser Black-backed or Herring Gull. And the scampering Sanderlings are entertaining as they run from the waves like frolicking children. In the evening there is the enjoyable task of reviewing and sorting the hundreds of pictures to find the few “keepers”. On that day the scenery shots almost outnumbered the birds. And even better, the prospect of dinner with friends at one of Nantucket’s finest restaurants was a perfect punctuation of another good day. Life is sweet.
Great Point, Nantucket
In closing, let me pass on this personal note. I’ve started another blog, this one about my resurrected hobby of astronomy, now adding an astrophotography flavor. You can check out “Night Skies” at http://www.nightskies.blog and click on the word “blog” to see the first post, “A Shot in the Dark”. I’m not closing out this birding blog, but you might notice that the postings are a little less frequent. I’m just filling out the entire 24-hour rotation of the Earth; you cannot photograph birds at night or stars during daylight. But in other respects the two avocations are quite similar, both using optics to observe and record the fascinating and vast universe we inhabit.
brighamstephen 