Category Archives: Bird Behavior

Arenal for Antbirds: Birding Costa Rica, Part 2

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Like all FSB posts, this one is written by REAL PEOPLE. Feel free to share it and support real writers and artists everywhere by shunning artificial intelligence. Despite the hype, AI is not “just a tool.” Its primary utility these days is to increase profits by putting people out of work. Don’t make it easy for the giant corporations that control it and are participating in the greatest theft of intellectual and artistic property the world has ever known.

After our surprising morning birding near San Jose’s Juan Santamaría International Airport (see our previous post), Braden and I wasted no time heading into the heart of the region where we would spend the next nine days—the northern Caribbean slope of Costa Rica. Our first destination? The flanks of Arenal Volcano.

Despite having spent more than two months in Costa Rica back in 1994 (when I was writing my books The Forest in the Clouds and Monteverde: Science and Scientists in a Costa Rican Cloud Forest), I had never before explored this region. During his semester abroad here, however, Braden had thoroughly scoured the country for birds and had put together an itinerary that would give us the most bang for our birding buck. The Arenal area—near the bustling tourist town of La Fortuna—held many avian riches, but Braden and I had one group of birds we especially wanted to see: antbirds.

The area around Arenal Volcano was the first major destination of our nine-day itinerary. Unfortunately, heavy rains greeted us during this supposed dry season!

If you’re unfamiliar with them, antbirds are a group of birds that shadow army ant swarms—not to eat them, but to snag the many other invertebrates that the swarms dislodge during their ravenous raiding parties. I had seen many ant swarms during my time in Costa Rica, but again (and tragically), that was before I became a birder and if any antbirds were around, I had cluelessly overlooked them. Braden had, of course, been more alert and seen several kinds of antbirds—but never in the classic “insect-palooza” situation one reads about in scientific narratives.

Braden and I looked forward to finding an antbird flock as much as any other birds on our trip. Note the army ants below the leaf upon which this Bicolored Antbird stands.

We got our first shot at antbirds on our second morning in the country when we birded the internationally famous Arenal Observatory Lodge & Trails, a rather pricey destination with a fabulous sweep of nature to offer visitors. Fortunately, you don’t have to book a room to bird the place, but can simply pay a fee to spend the day. Unfortunately, waves of heavy rain greeted Braden and me when we arrived. Don’t get me wrong. We still had an incredible day here, including bird lists totaling more than 100 species and a fantastic sighting of a northern tamandua, a small, incredibly shy species of anteater—a first for both of us. Alas, we got only a brief glimpse of a single antbird—a Spotted Antbird—and encountered no army ant swarms where more antbirds might be plying their trade.

On our first day of antbird searching, we saw only a single Spotted Antbird that didn’t happen to be following any army ants. Still, a gorgeous creature, verdad? (Note: the featured image at the beginning of this post shows a female Spotted Antbird!)

Still hopeful, the next morning we headed to another nearby spot, a combo nature area and zip-lining destination called Sky Adventures. And guess what? It was again pouring down rain! After spending the previous day pretty much soaked, neither of us looked forward to another day of damp garments and soggy boots. A ray of hope was that one of the Sky Adventures guides told us that he had seen antbirds only the day before and even told us where to look.

Braden wondered if he would see any life birds on this Costa Rican adventures, but quickly spotted this Black-headed Tody-flycatcher, the first of FOUR lifers he would collect this day!

In this kind of weather, we had the trails pretty much to ourselves, and we realized that there was no shortage of birds around us. I should backtrack a bit and explain that while more than a third of the Costa Rican birds I was seeing were lifers, Braden had already seen so many birds in the country that he wondered if he’d get any lifers on our entire trip. That question got answered pretty quickly as we began crossing a spectacular hanging bridge over a lush ravine. Almost immediately, Braden said, “Black-headed Tody-Flycatcher!” Sure enough, on a branch hanging over the bridge, we spotted one of the cutest birds in the tropics—and a lifer for both of us! In fact, a huge variety of amazing birds seemed to be hanging out around the bridge, and before long a yellow and black bird landed just below us. Braden got even more excited by this one. “Black-thighed Grosbeak!” he exclaimed. Ka-ching! His second lifer in ten minutes!

Braden’s second life bird of the day, a Black-thighed Grosbeak, put in a leisurely appearance just below the hanging bridge. Look closely and you can even see the black thighs—though this is still one of the worst bird names ever!

Still, we hadn’t forgotten the antbirds and pressed across the bridge and up a winding trail. And at a sharp left, suddenly, there they were. Antbirds!

I confess that it took both of us a few minutes to embrace exactly what we were looking at. Columns of army ants marched along both sides of the trail, and the antbirds skittered and skaddled all about us.

Braden, looking happily in shock at finding his best antbird mixed-flock ever!

According to Vallely’s and Dyer’s Birds of Central America, Costa Rica hosts nine species of antbirds and we recognized four working the ant columns around us. These included Bicolored, Spotted, and Zelodon’s. It also included the one we both most wanted to see. “I’ve got an Ocellated!” Braden shouted with glee—his third lifer of the day.

One of our top targets of our entire trip, Ocellated Antbirds gave us extensive, if very quick, looks for our full ant swarm visit.

Why were we so excited about this bird? All antbirds are subtly beautiful, but Ocellated has the most distinct patterns of any Costa Rican species. It sports gorgeous blue, black, and rufous colors around the face and eye, and a remarkable scalloped pattern of feathers down its back and chest. As thrilled as we were to find it, we were even more thrilled to watch what the antbirds were doing.

Only a single female Zeladon’s Antbird joined the ant swarm, and apparently these do not usually follow mixed flocks, and are not obligate ant swarm feeders. Males are black instead of brown.

Back and forth they darted snagging insects, spiders, and other arthropods that were startled by or fleeing from the army ants. Braden and I paced back and forth, mesmerized by this performance. At least fifteen or twenty antbirds surrounded us, the most abundant being the Bicolored, who were also the least shy. WATCH THE VIDEO BELOW!

Antbirds, though, aren’t the only birds that join in on following army ant columns. As we watched, we also saw Wedge-billed Woodcreepers, Northern Barred-Woodcreepers, and Fawn-throated Foliage Gleaners. As a bonus, the rain had let up by now, letting us fully enjoy what might be for me a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle. In fact, we spent at least half an hour with these remarkable birds, trying to grasp exactly what they were doing and just appreciating that things like this could still happen in the world. Finally, as the trail’s foot traffic increased, we moved on.

Woodcreepers can be intimidating birds to identify, so I relished spending time with several species at the ant swarm, including this Northern Barred-Woodcreeper.

We, of course, saw many more species on this outing—including Braden’s fourth lifer of the day, a White-throated Shrike-Tanager—but it was the antbirds that would stay with us as we headed to our next, equally spectacular destination, Caño Negro wetlands.   

Our Sky Adventures checklist: https://ebird.org/checklist/S303092147

The Birds in the Oaks (Book Review by Scott Callow)

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Braden and I head to Costa Rica next week, but before we go I am delighted—yes, delighted—to share the following guest book review by my buddy, Scott Callow. I predict you’ll enjoy his passionate, humorous review as much as the book itself! We challenge you to read it before our next post. And now, heeeeeeeeere’s SCOTT!

Sneed asked me to write a review of The Birds in the Oaks: Secret Voices of the Western Woods by Jack Gedney (HeyDey Press, 2024) before I completed reading it. Consequently, It was impossible for me to finish the last chapter without constant rereading because I became anxious and distracted, wondering how to share all the great things about it. For those of you who only read headlines or first paragraphs of news stories, let me present a few crafted comments that summarize my experiences, being careful not to exaggerate.

Order Jack Gedney’s The Birds in the Oaks by clicking here or on the above image.

* If you live near oak woodlands, you have no claim to being “interested in birds” if you do not read this book.  

* The Birds in the Oaks is overflowing with interesting ecological details that will keep me rereading chapters, and I expect I will mark the pages with notes like a seeker underlining sections of the Bible on the journey to become a better person.  

* The Birds in the Oaks is a superb example of well-crafted nature writing that mixes extensive and accurate observations with poetic prose, and mixes personal experiences with quotes from historical bird authors.  

Last fall, I was fortunate enough to accompany Scott to one of his favorite “oaky birdy” locations, Sugarloaf Ridge State Park in Sonoma County, where we saw a great variety of classic oak woodland species including Oak Titmouse, Golden-crowned Sparrow, and Nuttall’s Woodpecker. (See post World Series Birds in the Golden State.)

This book, admittedly, is personal for me. I live within walking distance of California oak woodlands. I volunteer at Sugarloaf Ridge State Park which is dominated by oak woodlands and mentioned in the book. The author’s former Wild Birds Unlimited store lies only 24 miles from me. Most importantly, I know these birds. I have learned so much about each of them from Gedney’s book that they have become even more familiar (emphasis in “family”). I will admit only here, amongst birders, that I sometimes say “Hey, buddy!” when I see my first Oak Titmouse of the day, and “Hey-hey-hey” when I see a White-breasted Nuthatch.  

Scott apparently has been known to converse with White-breasted Nuthatches. I can’t blame him as I talk to these guys myself!

Each curiously titled chapter is organized around a species. Each begins with key characteristics. Many chapters start with song and call, which I appreciate since I’m late in life to learning bird sounds. (Thank you Merlin.)  Example:

“I still hear the bird, steadily whit-whiting away as if mocking my inability to follow.” (A Bird at Our Level – Bewick’s Wren) (“whit-whit bew-wick” – record to memory)

As someone who seeks to be entertained by bird behavior and science, I enjoyed how Gedney explains bird ecology.  

“… to learn all the secrets of the woods, one must know … the birds beneath the oaks.” (Discontented Shadows – Spotted Towhee) (Cool we’re on a treasure hunt, I tell myself.)

The ecological details too elaborate to be found in a guide have already enriched my birding.  Even if you don’t regularly see Acorn Woodpeckers, every birder should learn about their unique extended family groups and their cooperative food hoarding strategies. I also believe every birder should wonder how the Bushtit, weighing as light as a nickel, can engineer such an elaborate sock-shaped nest, insulate it, camouflage it, and then use it for such a short nesting cycle, all on a diet of insects too tiny to see, even with the help of binoculars.

The ultimate oak woodland bird, the Acorn Woodpecker, deservedly attracts abundant attention from birders, both for its stunning good looks and fascinating behavior that features cooperative breeding and storage of thousands of acorns. Isn’t that, ahem, nuts?

But this book is not written by or for the scientist. Gedney is not afraid to add his own appreciation of a bird or personal experiences or poetic descriptions. This at first raised my anthropomorphic alarms since I was trained to reject human sentimentality by my vertebrate bio prof, surprisingly an ornithologist who once said “birds are stupid; their behaviors are mostly determined by genetics; they have small brains.” (These prejudices were spoken decades before contradictory scientific information was shared in The Genius of Birds and several other books on bird intelligence.)  

The Birds in the Oaks is very accessible, humanly so. It is so well written that you just might re-imagine your own feelings about birds and get all warm-like inside. You just might be heard saying “Wow” when learning something new about one of the birds. You might just slow down and spend “an inordinate amount of time” observing a bird in one location. Maybe, maybe not. But I will risk one bold prediction: If you get this book, several times you will imagine walking through the woods with the author himself.  

No oak trees were harmed in the writing and publishing of this review.

The Social Lives of Birds (Book Review)

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With single-digit temperatures in Montana this week, it is still very much book reading season, a time when all birders can—and should—beef up our birding resumés by tapping into the vast wealth of research and experience of the global birding and scientific communities. This past week, I delved into a topic that intrigues most birders by picking up Joan E. Strassmann’s The Social Lives of Birds: Flocks, Communes, and Families (Tarcher, 2025).

Joan Strassmann’s The Social Lives of Birds is packed with delightful revelations for beginning and experienced birders alike. (Click on the cover for ordering info.)

A well-regarded professor and scientist, Strassmann has created a comprehensive resource that introduces readers to almost every aspect of bird society. She begins by answering the simple question “Are Birds Social?” (You can probably guess the answer to that!) Then, chapter by chapter, she explores topics that fascinate beginning birders as much as they do veteran scientists. These include flocking behavior, mixed-species flocks, the predilection of many birds to roost and/or nest in colonies, the pros and cons of nesting and/or roosting together, lekking behavior, and more.

The author devotes an entire chapter to the fascinating and intriguing world of seabird colonies, such as those of one of the world’s most popular birds, the Blue-footed Booby.

I learned something fascinating with each chapter. For instance, I was first drawn to the book because the cover showed a line of six Long-tailed Tits packed tightly together on a branch. I had had the pleasure of observing these birds in the Netherlands (see our post Layover Birding in Amsterdam), Japan (see our post Birding Japan: Kyoto), and Spain (see our post Birding Barcelona, Part 1: The Urban Core), but had no idea that they lived and foraged in stable flocks that are often built around a main breeding pair and its offspring. In her book, Strassmann recounts a study that showed that on chilly nights, the tits nestle tightly together to stay warm, and that often it is the lowest birds on the “tit totem pole” that have to endure the chillier end positions. This is no trivial matter since the birds lose about 9 percent of their total body mass in a single, chilly night.

After observing Long-tailed Tits in Europe and Asia, I was fascinated to learn more details of their highly social behavior in The Social Lives of Birds.

Similar revelations emerge with every chapter, examining birds from a wide variety of terrestrial and aquatic habitats. My favorite chapter was the last, “Supersocial Groups: Birds That Are Always Together.” That’s probably because it featured one of my favorite birds, the Acorn Woodpecker (see our post College Search Birding in California), and three other species I was fascinated to learn more about: White-winged Choughs, Sociable Weavers, and a bird Braden and I are always delighted to see, Pinyon Jays. Regarding the latter, Braden and I have seen Pinyon Jays only a handful of times here in Montana, and I had wondered why they aren’t more common. Strassmann explains that the birds need extremely large territories to guarantee a dependable food supply. Unfortunately, their main food source, the pinyon pine, has suffered extreme losses from clearing for agriculture and other reasons. Warmer temperatures driven by climate change have also impacted the production of pinyon pine seeds, leading to large-scale die-offs of these beautiful, dynamic, gregarious birds.

Strassmann devotes much of the final chapter on one of Braden’s and my favorite birds, Pinyon Jays, shown here in a cemetery in Helena, Montana.

The Social Lives of Birds struggles a bit over whether it wants to be a comprehensive resource or an engaging narrative in the vein of the recently reviewed The Great Auk or A World on the Wing. The author mentions her personal connections to many of the topics, but I found these more distracting than engaging. Still, that will not prevent readers from enjoying the book and harvesting a wealth of information—knowledge that will help you look at birds with greater understanding and appreciation each time you head out to bird.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

A World on the Wing (Book Review)

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With fewer birds around, winter is an excellent chance to catch up on bird-related reading, both for enjoyment and education. I find this a perfect time to check out both new bird-related titles, and older books that I have somehow overlooked. Speaking of the latter, during the December holiday my father-in-law handed me Scott Weidensaul’s remarkable 2021 release, A World on the Wing: The Global Odyssey of Migratory Birds (W. W. Norton). I’m so glad that he did!

An easy reading style, engaging storytelling, and fascinating information render A WORLD ON THE WING one of a handful of required reading books for birders. (Click on the image for ordering information.)

In A World on the Wing, Weidensaul manages to take an overwhelming body of global information about bird migration and distill it into a series of stories that give the reader a captivating picture of what’s going on out there. The book’s first chapter hooked me immediately with the author’s visit to one of the world’s most vital shorebird stopover sites—and one I knew almost nothing about—the mudflats surrounding the Yellow Sea. These mudflats are nothing less than the linchpin to the East Asian-Australasian Flyway (EAAF), a vast, complicated series of routes used by millions of birds migrating from the Southern Hemisphere to breeding grounds in the far north. According to an online UNESCO article, about ten percent of all migrating birds on the EAAF depend on the Yellow Sea stopover area. They include two of the planet’s rarest shorebirds, the “Spoonie”, or Spoon-billed Sandpiper, with a population estimate of about 500 or fewer, and Nordman’s Greenshank with fewer than 2,000 individuals. Beyond that, the area provides critical support to 400 other bird species, including 45 considered threatened.

My 2023 visit to Japan highlighted how extensively crucial habitats for migrating birds have been gobbled up and polluted by development across the globe.
These two Little Ringed Plovers were the only shorebirds I saw on this beach visit to Kanazawa, Japan. I suspect severe habitat degratdation had at least something to do with it.

This first chapter sets the tone for a global, diverse journey through myriad aspects of bird migration. One chapter focuses on the incredible physiological adaptations of migrating birds, including their abilities to sleep on the wing, reduce or increase the size of internal organs to optimize weight and function, and navigate by taking advantage of quantum physics. Other chapters focus on species or groups of migrating birds across the globe. Some of these birds, such as the Kirtland’s Warbler and Snowy Owl, will be familiar to many readers while others, such as Bar-tailed Godwits and Amur Falcons, are less so. Every chapter, though, is filled not only with revelations, but personal anecdotes and experiences that make the stories come alive.

While many key stopover sites have been protected in North America, our own migrating bird numbers continue to plummet. Shorebird species have been especially hard-hit. (Shown here: Dunlins at Fort Stevens State Park, Oregon.)

Taken as a whole, the book serves as an impassioned plea to protect migratory birds and, well, just do things better on this planet. The crucial mudflats of the Yellow Sea, for instance, are critically imperiled by industrial development, pollution, and interruption of sediment flow caused by thousands of dams across China’s rivers. It’s not that the loss of these mudflats would put a dent in bird populations. It could wipe them out. The author quotes one scientist as saying, “There is no more buffer. There is no more ‘somewhere else’ for these migrants.” The threats to migrating birds are multiple and widespread, varying only in their particulars. In some places, pesticides take terrible tolls. In other places, it’s illegal hunting for local culinary specialties. Almost everywhere, habitat loss and climate change loom large.

In Cyprus, Italy, France, and other countries, millions of migrating songbirds are needlessly and illegally slaughtered to satisfy traditional and/or eccentric culinary tastes. According to an Audubon article, at least 157 species are caught, including 90 species of conservation concern. (Shown here: European Robin.)

Somehow, the author manages to balance these threats with the overarching wonder of bird migration and leaves the reader feeling hopeful—or at least determined—along with being much better informed. This balance, along with the engaging writing style and storytelling make this one of a handful of bird-related books that I consider required reading for anyone interested in birds and conservation.

Order this book at your local independent bookstore!

FSB’s Third Annual Short-Eared Owl Lousy Photo Shoot!

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You knew it was coming. You heard the rumours. You’ve waited patiently, and guess what? Today is the day! Right this second, Braden and I are proud to reveal FSB’s Third Annual Short-Eared Owl Lousy Photo Shoot!

Like many birders, Braden and I try to “bird in” the new year with one or more big days of birding somewhere near our home in Missoula. The past couple of years, we’ve headed to Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge about an hour north of us, mainly because it’s a reliable place for a variety of birds and is especially good for hawks, falcons, and other raptors. This year, our day was shaped by a couple of fun additional circumstances. One is that our long-time friends Susan Snetsinger and her son (Braden’s pal) Eli Frederickson happily agreed to join us for our birding excursion. The other is that a putative sighting of an Arctic Loon on the north end of Flathead Lake  sent all of us Montana birders into a tizzy. Why? Because an Arctic Loon has never been reported in the state!

For the third year in a row, we decided to head north through the spectacular Mission Valley for our first major birding expedition of the year.

(To view our past two “lousy owl” photo blogs, see our posts Lost in Owls and Plenty of Partridges.)

Unfortunately, on December 30th, yours truly woke up with his first cold in two years and was in no shape to venture out on January 1st. No problem. Everyone agreed to push back our outing to January 3rd and, more important, the Arctic Loon was still being reported! As we set out before dawn, fog and ice covered our route, making driving sketchy, especially with the pre-dawn danger of deer wandering out onto the highway. Braden, though, fearlessly drove us north and as we passed the National Bison Range, a bit of light began seeping in through the fog.

We decided to head to the loon first and that afforded Susan and Eli a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to join Braden and me at our favorite French breakfast spot, McDaniels, in Ronan. I even convinced the two of them to order my favorite morning birding beverage, a large iced tea, to help power us all through the day.

From left to right, Braden, Sneed, Eli, and Susan as we pursued our spirited quest to locate the “Arctic Loon.”

After a fruitless stop to look for Long-eared Owls near Polson, we arrived at our destination of Somers on Flathead Lake just after 11 a.m. Dan Casey, who first reported the Arctic Loon, had kindly noted several viewing possibilities from the lakeshore, and we began visiting these. Right off the bat, we saw some interesting birds. These included Red-necked Grebes, a species we had never found in Montana at this time of year, and a couple of Blue Jays, a species Braden and I totally missed in our home state last year.

We saw no sign of a loon of any kind, so continued to explore the lakeshore. More fun birds popped up, including a variety of ducks, Trumpeter Swans, and one of our favorite winter birds, Northern Shrikes. We also toured the neighborhood where we’d seen our lifer Snowy Owl eight years ago (see our very first post, A Quest for Snowy Owls). None of the owls have been reported this winter, but we thought, “Might as well give it a try.” We eventually left the Kalispell area both owl-less and loon-less, but none of us really minded. We were still seeing birds and even better, enjoying each other’s company.

Any day you find a Northern Shrike is a good birding day—and we saw three or four of them during our expedition.

90 minutes later, we were turning down Duck Road at Ninepipe. It was only 3 p.m., but this time of year it felt a lot later. Much of the fog at cleared, but mist still hung off of the spectacular mountains in the distance, giving everything an other-worldly feel. We drove slowly and picked up some expected raptors: Rough-legged and Red-tailed Hawks, Northern Harrier, Bald Eagle, and American Kestrel.  

“Should we go drive by the Short-eared Owl place?” I asked Braden.

“Sure,” he answered and began searching for the location on his phone.

We didn’t get that far.

Heading south on Ninepipe Road, he suddenly shouted, “There’s one!”

I am especially proud of this lousy Short-eared Owl Shot. See how I tilted the camera to make it appear that the owl is flying downhill? Well, guess what? It wasn’t! I just used my advanced photo skills to make you think that. This is a highly complex and dangerous technique, however, so don’t try it at home!

I immediately pulled over so we could all look and, sure enough, there was one of our favorite creatures flying low over a marsh area in the distance.

We had barely begun to look at it, however, when Eli shouted, “There’s another one!”

“Oh my god,” Braden added, scanning with his binos, “There’s three more way out beyond that!”

If I’d been trying harder, I would have been able to capture up to five SEOWs in one shot–but that might have made the photo TOO good for this blog!

We clambered out of our minivan, and the more we looked, the more Short-eared Owls we saw. These weren’t quick glances, either. Some of the owls appeared to be hunting, dropping quickly into the marsh for a go at a vole. Others looked to be courting, sparring and jousting “good-naturedly” and briefly locking talons before circling around again. A couple of owls spent a few minutes chasing away a Northern Harrier who apparently lacked the firepower to defend her space.

This SEOW did not want its identity revealed, so as you can see I used sophisticated AI processing to blur out its face.

While these weren’t the closest SEOWs we’d ever seen, this was far and away the best Short-eared Owl experience any of us had ever had. Not only were the owls engaging in all kinds of interesting behaviors, we had this winter spectacular all to ourselves.

We encountered nary another birder during our half hour enjoying this “most owl” spectacle!

Oh, and did I mention that I got to take more than a dozen lousy Short-eared Owl photos? That felt particularly gratifying since, after three years, I’ve got a reputation to uphold! We hope you enjoy the gallery and keep tuning in to FatherSonBirding. Even more, we hope you keep having your own magical birding moments.

Happy New Year!

P.S. Oh, it turns out that the Arctic Loon got “downgraded” to a Pacific Loon. C’est la loon!

Even without the owls, a winter visit to the Mission Valley is a soulful, satisfying experience. Oh, and can you find Trumpeter Swans in this picture?