Category Archives: Flycatchers

Hi-Line Report: Bad Weather Can Bring Good Birds

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Most serious Montana birders try to make it up to the Hi-Line every year. If you’ve never heard of the Hi-Line, it is the northern region of the state that basically follows Highway 2 from East Glacier National Park all the way to the North Dakota Border. It’s an area full of rolling hills, badlands, farms and ranches—and a whole lotta birds. For Braden and me, the region is best represented by the Bowdoin National Wildlife Refuge, a sprawling 15,551-acre refuge near Malta that encompasses a rich variety of wet and dry habitats. We don’t make it up to Bowdoin every year, but this year I was fortunate enough to get invited to visit a school in nearby Chinook. Even better, I timed the visit for spring migration and breeding. I booked an Airbnb in Malta and drove up two days early to give me a full day at Bowdoin. The bad news? The forecast called for rain.

Indeed, when I arrived at the refuge at 6:00 a.m., rain pelted the car, propelled by a cold wind. Geez, I thought. I’m not going to see anything today. It was so cold and wet that I skipped my usual stop at the visitor center and instead headed straight out onto the first, five-mile section of the fifteen-mile loop around the lake. I noted that water levels, although not great, were better than I’d seen them two years before, but the first five-mile section was a time to focus not on water birds, but on denizens of the grass. Normally, in fact, Braden and I spend the most time in this section, stopping frequently to listen for Grasshopper Sparrows, Baird’s Sparrows, Chestnut-collared Longspurs, and other grassland favorites (see our post “Great Grassland Birding”). Today, that proved impossible. Every time I opened the window, wind and rain cascaded in and made it almost impossible to hear calls beyond the heavy-metal songs of Western Meadowlarks.

Steady rain and wind limited my ability to find grassland birds!

Mercifully, a few species took pity on me. Right off the bat, I espied one of our favorite birds, a Bobolink—the only one I would see the entire trip. Then, I spotted a drenched Grasshopper Sparrow perched on a small bush—the lone GRSP I would see that day. Lark Buntings also put in an appearance, along with Horned Larks and Savannah Sparrows. I also was pleased to see shorebirds, but on this section of the drive, they were far away. At one point, I leaped out to set up the scope I was testing out (see our next post), but immediately got drenched and was unable to ID much except for Wilson’s Phalaropes, American Avocets, and a Willet.

Lark Buntings were the most cooperative grassland birds I managed to see on this cold, wet, windy day. Thank you, Lark Buntings!

As I kept driving, however, conditions steadily improved and I got better looks at shorebirds. The phalaropes were especially impressive and I estimated at least a thousand out on the water and working the shore. The vast majority were Wilson’s, but with patience, I found a group of four Red-necked Phalaropes—most clearly identified by their smaller size, overall darker appearance, and distinct light lines running down their dark backs. Ducks were not super abundant, but plentiful and I counted at least ten species, including my first-of-the-year Canvasbacks!

Twice, I drove down to some boat ramps and, despite the rain, nabbed a good “harvest” of shorebirds. I found about half a dozen Semipalmated Sandpipers and one Western Sandpiper. The real surprises, which I confirmed later with Braden’s help, were a Baird’s Sandpiper and a White-rumped Sandpiper! The latter was especially difficult to figure out because it didn’t readily show the diagnostic, thin lines of spots extending from the neck down to below the wings, but the overall appearance and body size fit. I was thrilled to find these birds as we’d never found them at Bowdoin before. Then again, we’d never birded Bowdoin this early in the season, so they were all part of my continuing Montana birding education.

Both this Baird’s (left) and several Semipalmated Sandpipers (right) proved early season surprises on this cold, rainy Bowdoin day. The larger size, long wing tips extending beyond the tail, and “medallion” appearance on the wings help distinguish Baird’s from the smaller peeps.

As I was leaving the second boat ramp, I noticed a Marbled Godwit in the parking area. Godwits, like Willets and Long-billed Curlews, are shorebirds and grassland birds. They nest in grasslands, usually near water, so seeing one here didn’t surprise me. I was about to drive off when the godwit suddenly launched itself. As I watched, it flew a hundred yards or so to the shore—and landed next to two birds I had especially hoped to see: Black-bellied Plovers! Loyal FSB readers will note that I’ve written about these fine birds a lot in the past couple of years (see, for instance, this post), and so it was with special pleasure I observed them now—and in their best black-bellied breeding plumage. Thank you, Mr. Godwit, for pointing them out!

This helpful Marbled Godwit (right) made a special effort to point out two Black-bellied Plovers that I had so woefully overlooked!

By the time I made it back to the visitor center, my stomach rumbled and, though the rain had slackened, the cold and wind remained. I debated whether I should even get out of the car to explore around the small pond there, but I knew that Braden would never forgive me if I didn’t. Marshaling my determination, I walked over to the start of the little path that circumscribes the pond. Almost immediately, a curious face popped up from behind a bush thirty feet away. “Whoa!” I whispered. At first, I thought it was a weasel, but it was much larger than the three or four weasels I’d observed in the past. Stoat? Ferret? I asked myself. Could it possibly be a mink? I’d never seen a mink and didn’t know if they even lived in Montana, but it seemed to fit the profile. Later, iNaturalist experts helped me confirm that that’s what it was. After looking at me for several moments, the long, bizarre-looking creature loped across the road and disappeared into the brush. The birds, however, were not to be outdone by a mere mammal!

Seeing my lifer American Mink was about the last thing on my mind as I braved Bowdoin’s visitor center area for one last birding effort!

As I began poking around the beginning of the trail, I saw shapes flitting about in the bushes. A brownish bird streaked by me giving off Swainson’s Thrush vibes, but I didn’t see it well enough to definitely identify it. Minutes later, a reddish-backed bird landed on a nearby branch below me—a Veery! Then I got a good look at another Swainson’s Thrush, this time confirming the ID. In the branches above it, an adorable little Least Flycatcher watched me, but none of these would be the stars of the show.

Empidonax flycatchers are notoriously difficult to identify by sight, but this bird’s “cute” appearance—and the fact that no other empids should have been anywhere in the area—helped clinch the ID.

Even through the wind, I could hear both Yellow Warblers and Common Yellowthroats around me, even if I couldn’t get clear looks at any of them. Then, a small songbird landed in a tree about thirty feet away. I got my binoculars up in time to recognize a species I had longed to see—a Blackpoll Warbler! Like the Swainson’s and Veery, the warbler was clearly in migration, on its way to northern breeding grounds in Canada and Alaska. Braden and I had found them three times before in Montana, but always females. Not only did a gorgeous, breeding plumage male now stare back at me, it was the first Blackpoll I had ever found on my own!

As you can tell, the day proved tough for photography all-around, but I managed to get fuzzy ID photos of my Bird of the Trip, Blackpoll Warbler!

You won’t be surprised to hear that the Blackpoll Warbler immediately secured Bird of the Trip honors. Even more, it cemented the notion that just because conditions are bad for birders, they can still be great for birds. In fact, storms often cause birds to hunker in place for a day or two—perhaps the reason I found some of the especially cool birds I found today. I plan to remind myself of that the next time I’m debating whether to venture out into the pelting wind and rain.

Graduation Birding Bonanza in Maine

News Flash!

Okay, we all felt confident that he would, but holy cow, where did the last four years go? After all, when we started FatherSonBirding (see our first post, “A Quest for Snowy Owls,”) Braden had just turned fifteen years old and was a mere freshman in high school. What he has accomplished in college has truly done him proud. He would no doubt say that his greatest achievement was to start the UMaine Birding Club and turn it into a powerhouse campus conservation, education, and social organization. As proud parents, however, Amy and I would point out that he also graduated with highest honors, made incredible friendships, spent a semester in Costa Rica (see post “A Glimpse of a Ghost”), got two articles published in top birding magazines, and amassed a Maine Life List of 231 bird species. Along the way, he has transformed himself into a compassionate, kind leader with a passion for meaningful connections and making the world a better place. Congratulations, Son! We couldn’t be prouder.

The graduate in full regalia!

Amy, Tessa, and I were incredibly fortunate to be able to travel to Maine to partake in the celebration last week, accompanied by Braden’s wonderful uncle, Dennis. We got to meet Braden’s friends, get a tour of his favorite UMaine hangouts, attend the Honors College celebration—and, of course, we went out birding!

Braden and I heard “Teacher! Teacher! Teacher!” almost constantly while I was back in Maine, but this is the only Ovenbird I got a good look at.

Shaking off my eighteen-hour travel day, I awoke bright and early Saturday morning so that Braden could pick me up for an excursion with some of his friends and birding converts to one of their favorite local hotspots: Taylor Bait Farm. Braden and I had birded here three-and-a-half years earlier (see post “A Tornado of Warblers”) when I originally dropped him off for college, but this was my first time back since. A cold drizzle greeted us (see Equipment Notes at end of this blog), but that did nothing to dampen the bird activity. My top priority? Seeing migrating warblers—and they delivered! Almost immediately, Braden and his friends began calling out Chestnut-sided Warblers, Northern Parulas, Black-and-White Warblers, Ovenbirds, Palm Warblers, and a spectacular male Magnolia Warbler.

Northern Parulas were probably the most common warblers we encountered this past week, and it was especially fun to see them after Roger and I saw Tropical Parulas in Colombia this winter.

Braden’s friend Emmit confided to me that the UMaine Birding Club generally considered Black-throat Green Warblers to be the “worst” warbler, but we both strongly disagreed, and I said that anyone who had a problem with that should come see me. Shortly afterward, in fact, I got to see my first “BT Green” since Braden and I visited High Island, Texas more than eight years ago!

Braden poses with friends and fellow Birding Club members Nathaniel, Emmit, and (far right), Drew. I loved meeting them after hearing so much about them the past year.

That night, after Braden’s Honors College celebration, he took our entire family out to a place he called “the bike path” for what turned out to be one of the coolest things we have ever witnessed. As the sun set over a large field, a strange, short buzzy song interjected itself into the chorus of spring peepers, Red-winged Blackbirds, and other calls. “That’s it!” Braden excitedly told us. “American Woodcock!”

Braden had told me that we might see one, but as is my nature, I didn’t really believe him. As we all waited in the dimming light, however, a shape suddenly rose up into the sky. “There it is!” Braden exclaimed. The bird’s silhouette looked very similar to a Wilson’s Snipe, and it flew around high in the air—in fact, right over us—before diving back down to its spot in some nearby bushes. Dennis and I felt especially moved by this majestic, little-known performance. “I didn’t even know they did that,” I told Braden.

While we waited for an American Woodcock to take flight, we all enjoyed a stunning sunset over this field near the UMaine campus.

From there, Braden led us out onto the bike path itself in the hopes that Tessa would get to see amphibians. The path is where Braden has participated in “Big Nights”: rainy evenings when locals go out to look for—and help—frogs and salamanders that are migrating from their wintering grounds to spring breeding sites. We were a bit late in the year and the rain had stopped, but we lucked out by finding a lone spring peeper on the path. Braden showed Tessa how to wet her hands before picking it up so as not to damage the animal’s delicate skin. Then she moved it off to safety. It was the first frog Tessa ever got to hold and it pretty much made the trip for her!

We had to really watch our step on the bike path because the spring peepers and salamanders can blend right into the pavement.

Because of the rain and dim light, I had yet to take any bird photos, so the next morning I woke early before graduation and birded around our Airbnb at Pushaw Lake, nabbing a couple of year birds, Eastern Bluebird and Pine Warbler. Then, we all headed into Bangor to watch Braden “move his tassel.”

After Braden and I were fortunate to see an Eastern Bluebird during last summer’s eastern Montana expedition, I loved seeing one in it’s “proper” habitat next to our Airbnb!

Before we knew it, though, we awoke to our final morning in Maine, and Braden picked me up for another early round of birding. He had originally intended to find me my lifer Winter Wren, but I told him that I’d rather spend more time with warblers—and try to photograph them—so we headed back to Taylor Bait Farm. We are so glad that we did!

The hotspot proved even birdier today than it had two mornings earlier. The day started out great, with excellent looks at Solitary Sandpiper, Rose-breasted Grosbeak, Blue-headed Vireos, and Veery. Common Loons flew overhead and a Ruffed Grouse thumped in the distance.

The warblers had not gone anywhere, either. We saw or heard thirteen species. I captured my best-ever Chestnut-sided Warbler photos, but the highlight was finding a Bay-breasted Warbler, a bird Braden especially wanted to see before leaving Maine. It was ironic that this bird captivated us so much here after blowing us away in Montana last spring (see post “A Rare Warbler in Western Montana”). Believe it or not, it did not even end up being our bird of the day.

Best-looking Warbler ever? The breeding Chestnut-sided Warbler makes a good claim to it. Braden called this one in close so I could get this wonderful shot!

As we made our way back to the car so that we could meet up for a final family breakfast, Braden suggested we take a slightly different path that wound its way along one of the ponds. As we started down it, a bird flew across the sky. “Get your eyes on that!” Braden said.

I did and for a moment, felt disoriented by what I was seeing. Then my brain began to put it together. “It looks like a cuckoo!” I said.

“It’s a Black-billed Cuckoo!” Braden exulted right before the bird disappeared.

We just stared at each other, open-jawed.

“Have you seen them here before?” I asked.

“I’ve never seen one in Maine!” he emphasized. “They’re really hard to see—and you never hear of one just flying over like that! That’s a lifer for you!”

(See also our post “Going Cuckoo for Fall Warblers in Texas.”)

Sneed and Braden on their final, terrific outing at Taylor Bait Farm.

Indeed, but even more, it was a total shock. Like the Yellow-throated Warbler I saw in Texas only three weeks ago (see post “Target Birds and a Shocking Surprise in the Texas Hill Country”), the cuckoo hadn’t even registered as a possibility. It was a great way to cap what turned out to be Braden’s best outing at Taylor Bait Farm in three-and-a-half years birding it. I couldn’t help thinking it made a perfect graduation gift—and boded well both for birds and Braden’s future birding career.

Sneed’s Trip Report: https://ebird.org/tripreport/370034

Equipment Notes: On this trip, I took along a pair of Vortex Viper HD 8X42 binoculars, which I reviewed in this post. This, however, was my first chance to use them in rainy conditions and I have to say, they performed incredibly well. While my companions’ bins were fogging up, the Viper HDs stayed clear as a bell during our two-hour drizzly session. I also had a chance to use the Vipers in “almost night” conditions to view the American Woodcock mentioned above. Again, I was impressed with the amount of light they transmitted, allowing me to easily follow the bird’s silhouette in flight. Back at our Airbnb, I let Braden look at a distant loon on the lake and he said, “Wow, those are good binoculars!” I suspect I’ll be using these a lot more!

A slightly ruffled-looking Black-and-White Warbler, a favorite among UMaine Birding Club members!

Chasing Morelet’s Seedeaters—or Why You Shouldn’t Depend on Map Apps Near the Mexican Border (Texas 2025, Final Installment)

My success finding Black-capped Vireos and Golden-cheeked Warblers (see our last post) left me a welcome gift: an extra day to pursue another bird that keenly interested me. It was a bird Braden and I had unsuccessfully tried for on our 2018 trip to the Lower Rio Grande Valley: Morelet’s Seedeater. Though not rare in its core year-round range of Central America and eastern Mexico, this adorable “finchy” songbird just barely creeps over into the US along the Rio Grande Valley.

Catching sights such as this setting moon is one of the benefits of being an “early birder.”

Sunday morning, I rose at four a.m. and headed south from Uvalde. As they had on the previous morning, both a spectacular sunrise and unforgettable setting full moon rewarded me. As light crept over this flat country, caracaras flew along the road and Scissor-tailed Flycatchers perched on telephone wires. I even got a glimpse of a flock of quail leaping over a fence. Scaled Quail? I could only guess! After ninety minutes, my little highway joined Interstate 35.

And that’s where the trouble began.

I-35 is a main artery for trade between Mexico, the US, and Canada. As I sped south, I kept seeing signs for Mexico, but my map app directions assured me that I should keep going and turn off at an exit called Riverbank Drive. As I kept driving, however, I saw no signs for that—or any other—exit, and I realized that the only other traffic around me consisted of huge 18-wheelers. Finally, a thought occurred to me: Uh-oh.

Soon I found myself at a dead stop, surrounded by big rigs, with no way to turn around. There are moments in life where you know you are in a fix, and there’s not a thing you can do about it. This was one of those. Still, hope springs eternal and I climbed out of the car and walked to a big rig next to me. The kind Mexican driver, undoubtedly flummoxed by what I was doing there, rolled down his window, and we had the following conversation:

Me: Uh, I think I made a mistake. I’m trying to go to Laredo.

Driver: Laredo, Mexico?

Me: Uh, no. Laredo, Texas.

Driver (looking worried for me): You’ll have to turn around.

Me: Where?
Driver (after conferring with his partner): I don’t know.

These Big Rigs kept me company as I contemplated life as a Mexican citizen.

It was then that I began pondering the frightening ramifications of entering Mexico without a passport. I mean, could I have picked a worse time in history for this to happen??? The only good thing was that a Scissor-tailed Flycatcher perched nearby, blissfully unconcerned by my human drama. A few minutes later, the border opened and I eased in front of my new trucker friend. For ten minutes I and the big rigs inched forward until we reached a wide No Man’s Land of pavement and there I spotted an actual border worker. I pulled up next to him and explained my mistake. Looking vaguely amused and overly patient, he said, “See my buddy back there? Turn around and he’ll keep the trucks stopped while you exit at that road on the side.” I proceeded as instructed, gratefully waving to the “buddy.” I could have burst into tears at this point, but instead, I laughed all the way to the next exit—the real exit—which led to my original destination, Father McNaboe Park.

The Rio Grande River, aka the Mexican Border, complete with Border Patrol agents and lots of Carrizo cane, where Morelet’s Seedeaters like to hang out.

By the time I reached the park, I had experienced a week’s worth of drama, but remember, I still had some serious birding on the agenda. In 2018, Braden and I had visited the Lower Rio Grande Valley (LRGV) and even spent a night in Laredo, but had somehow failed to find McNaboe Park. I don’t know how, as the park consisted of a wide, long swath of trails, playing fields, and other amenities right on the Rio Grande River. Today, the park was jammed with people and I felt at ease as I walked toward the river. Before I even got there, I spotted my first great birds of the day—a pair of Hooded Orioles, a species I hadn’t seen since visiting Southern California seven years before. Not long afterward, I saw another oriole, a Bullock’s Oriole—perhaps on its way to Montana?

Over the phone the night before, Braden had told me to look for the Morelet’s Seedeaters in the “cane grass,” a tall invasive species known in Texas as Carrizo cane. Apparently, this plant can be found all along the 1,255-mile reach of the Rio Grande, and it didn’t take me long to find thick stands of it. I began walking along them looking for little black and brown birds. I covered a couple of hundred yards without seeing any and then walked down to a little sandbar right at river level. No seedeaters.

Then, I happened to glance up a side channel at another thick stand of cane. There, perched on one of the stalks was an erect little bird with a finchy bill. I didn’t get my binoculars up in time to get a good look, but I immediately knew: I had found my bird!

I was just about to get a great photo of this Morelet’s Seedeater when a loud car rumbled up next to me. I accidentally managed this flight shot, though, which is kind of fun.

Of course, that didn’t keep me from wanting better looks, and for the next hour or so, I walked various paths and channels. I got to know the bird’s song and it wasn’t long before I was hearing and seeing more of these cute little guys. They were pretty shy, but I managed good looks—and saw some other great birds as well. These included a pair of Black-necked Stilts, a Spotted Sandpiper, a Green Heron, and even a lone Mexican Duck in the middle of the river. Not including the seedeaters, the show stoppers, as usual, were a pair of Vermillion Flycatchers.

Do Vermillion Flycatchers get way more attention than they deserve? Probably. Does anyone ever get tired of looking at them? I doubt it!

After a late breakfast at the French restaurant McDaniels, I decided to hit one more park in Laredo—North Central Park. Remarkably, I had failed to find a Golden-fronted Woodpecker so far on the trip, and though the heat was comin’ on fast, the park had abundant sightings of them. It took only five minutes to hear and then see one of these handsome birds and, walking a couple of miles or so, I also added Great Kiskadees and Bell’s Vireo to my trip list. Then, before I inadvertently wandered toward Mexico again, I turned tail and headed back up I-35 for San Antonio.

Link to my Texas Trip Report: https://ebird.org/tripreport/351263

Total Number of Species for the Trip: 144

My Top 6 Trip Birds:

Least Bittern (see post “Anahuac Lifer Attack”)

Yellow-throated Warbler (see Texas Hill Country post)

Black-capped Vireo (see Texas Hill Country post)

Golden-cheeked Warbler (see Texas Hill Country post)

Morelet’s Seedeater (this post)

Yellow-throated Vireo (see Peveto Woods post)

A pair of Black-necked Stilts flying downstream over the Rio Grande.

Cock-of-the-Rock Extravaganza—with Video! (Colombia Birding Part 5)

We wrap up our Colombian birding blogs with a terrific post by Roger Kohn, sharing his recent experiences with one of South America’s most famous birds—the Andean Cock-of-the-Rock. If you’ve been reading recent posts, you know that in addition to being a past guest contributor to FSB, Roger was the evil genius behind getting Sneed to Colombia! Alas, an injury kept Sneed from seeing the cock-of-the-rock this time around, but Roger was able to experience these wondrous birds in full glory. He even took an awesome video of a male Andean COTR that’s almost like being there. Our big thanks go out to Roger, and we know you will enjoy this post. Oh, and be sure to watch the Cock-of-the-Rock video below!

Four a.m. My cell phone alarm chirped and the screen lit up and pierced the early morning blackness, rousting me from a sound sleep. If you want to see one of the iconic birds of the Andes, you’d better be dragging yourself out of bed well before dawn!

Our guide Luis with Roger before they went slippin’ and a slidin’ down to see one of South America’s most iconic birds.

Today was one of the most anticipated days of my Colombia birding expedition. Sneed and I would visit “Alto Anchicayá – El Descanso,” commonly referred to as Doña Dora’s place. The owner, Doña Dora, began her business by selling empanadas and coffee to workers on their way to and from a nearby hydro-electric facility. The small restaurant quickly became popular with birders because its location, perched in the cloud forest at about 4,000 feet above sea level in Colombia’s Western Andes, attracts a huge variety of bird species to its feeders and offers some of the best birding in South America. As if that weren’t enough, birders have the opportunity to see the Andean Cock-of-the-Rock, a bizarre-looking bird that inhabits narrow ribbons of cloud forest slicing through the Andes of Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, Colombia, and Venezuela.

A male Andean Cock-of-the-Rock in its full, bizarro glory!

After Sneed and I downed a quick cup of coffee and a muffin, our guide Luis picked us up at the Araucana Lodge (see “Video Post: A Visit to Araucana Lodge”) at 4:30 a.m. Light rain fell as we drove west for about 50 minutes. Our destination? An Andean Cock-of-the-Rock lek located in steep terrain below Doña Dora’s place.

Leks are assembly areas where males of some bird species, including Greater Sage-Grouse and Greater Prairie-Chickens in North America, perform courtship displays to attract prospective mates. At this time of year, we were pretty much guaranteed of seeing the Andean Cock-of-the-Rock between approximately 6 and 7 a.m.; the only question was whether we would see both sexes or only males.

Arriving at Doña Dora’s, the last raindrops fell as we gathered our walking sticks and prepared for the hike down to the lek. I was a little nervous, having heard that the trail is rough and steep. The recent rain added an additional layer of concern. Turning on our headlamps, Luis, David—a visiting birder from Spain—and I departed in the darkness. Sneed, nursing a sore leg and having already seen the Andean Cock-of-the-rock in Peru, opted to skip the hike and instead get an early start birding at Doña Dora’s.

Tawny-breasted Flycatcher, one of five flycatchers Roger saw on his ACOR trek.

Fortunately, the trail wasn’t as treacherous as I feared. The ground was damp, but the soil and leaves seemed to have absorbed most of the rainfall, so the trail didn’t have much mud and standing water. Steps built into the trail, along with a rubber handrail, made the descent very do-able. Pausing at the moth trap, a great birding area we would visit on the way back up, we turned off our headlamps as the first light of the day penetrated the cloud forest, and made our final push. About 25 minutes after we had departed, we arrived at the lek, an area with lots of open space for the birds to strut their stuff, and a small shelter with benches for birdwatchers.

Buff-rumped Warbler, a New World warbler species that does NOT migrate to the US—or anywhere else for that matter.

Immediately we saw two male Andean Cock-of-the-rocks, then three, and eventually five. These were the strangest-looking birds I’ve ever seen — veritable avian aliens. Bright red on the head and chest, black wings, silver tertiary feathers in the back, large pale staring eyes, a helmet-like round crest on the head with their bills only barely visible at certain angles, and bright orange legs. They perched on branches, and periodically pranced with herky-jerky movements to attract the attention of females. Their periodic calls, which eBird describes as “piglike squeals,” were odd guttural shrieks, comical to the human ear.

Ever wonder what male Andean Cock-of-the-Rocks do at their leks besides drink beer and boast about past conquests? This highly-classified video gives you a behind-the-scenes look! (Copyright Roger Kohn)

We did not see any females, which are brownish and look more like a conventional bird species, but we assumed they lurked nearby. Despite the absence of the females, I felt privileged to witness this display and add this remarkable Andean cloud forest dweller to my Life List. It was a sublime encounter that I will always treasure.

Andean Cock-of-the-Rock female (photo taken at Machu Picchu, Peru, copyright Sneed B. Collard III)

A huffy puffy ascent awaited us—but also a treat about a third of the way back to the top: the moth trap. The trap is a large white canvas sheet suspended vertically, and is a birder’s delight. Moths and other insects land on it, providing a feasting opportunity for resident cloud forest birds, which converge and gorge on bugs they pick off of the canvas. Pausing here, we racked up 15 species in 20 minutes of very fun birding. They included four species you can find in the United States: Summer Tanager, Canada Warbler, Acadian Flycatcher, and Blackburnian Warbler. The rest were species I’ve never encountered before. We saw five flycatcher species, including great looks at a handsome Tawny-breasted Flycatcher. Four warbler species graced us with their presence, including a very cooperative Buff-rumped Warbler. A Yellow-throated Chlorospingus, a yellowish “tanager-like sparrow” (eBird), dined on a big fat moth.

A Yellow-throated Chlorospingus, a member of a bird group Sneed & Roger had never heard of before the trip.

The superstar of the show was a Squirrel Cuckoo, a large dull orange bird with a yellow bill and a long black and white tail. It flew in and perched on a branch out in the open right in front of us, giving us fantastic looks and unbeatable photo opportunities. It would be my only sighting of that species during my 16-day Colombian adventure.

Is this a good-looking bird or what? Squirrel Cuckoos are quite common throughout Latin America, with a range extending from Argentina all the way up into Mexico.

Elated, we climbed up the remainder of the trail, arriving back at Doña Dora’s place, where a pile of scrambled eggs and a full morning of world-class birding awaited us. If you ever have the chance to take a birding trip to the birdiest country on earth, do not miss the opportunity to visit this cloud forest gem.

https://ebird.org/checklist/S215430499

If you enjoyed this post, be sure to check out our previous Colombian birding blogs:

Video Post: A Visit to Araucana Lodge (Colombia Birding Part 4)

Antpittas and Tody-Flycatchers (Colombia Birding Part 3)

Owl’s Watch Ecolodge (Colombia Birding Part 2)

Layover Birding in Bogota, Colombia

Antpittas and Tody-Flycatchers (Colombia Birding Part 3)

Note: This blog post—and all others on FatherSonBirding—are written by REAL PEOPLE! No compensation or gratuities were provided to us in connection with this post. If you’d like to support FSB, please consider buying one—or ten—of Sneed’s books and contributing to a bird conservation organization of your choice. Thank you!

Our second morning at Owl’s Watch ecolodge, Roger and I felt particularly excited. Although we’d had a great day birding on our own the day before (see post Owl’s Watch Ecolodge Colombia Birding Part 2), this would be the first time we went out with an expert guide. We met Owl’s Watch owner, Dennis Bailey, at 6:00 a.m. at the Social, the lodge’s main meeting building, and he served us coffee and a snack. Then, we climbed into his pickup and he drove us up to the Enchanted Forest. This was an area of cloud forest at the top of his property, where he and his team had developed a nice trail system complete with hidden gnomes associated with an information guide about the ecosystem. This is also where we met Daniel Muñoz Buitrago, our Colombian guide for the day.

Our guide Daniel (right) posing with one of the educational gnomes set up along the trail.

Both Roger and I liked Daniel immediately, and he began our tour by walking us along the road above the forest. “This is often where mixed flocks of tanagers can be found,” he explained, and sure enough, it wasn’t long before he started calling out names: Blue-capped Tanager, Saffron-crowned Tanager, Beryl-spangled Tanager, and one I especially hoped to see—Grass Green Tanager. This bird sports a stunning green color with a vividly contrasting red mask across its face.

One of my favorite tanagers of the trip, a Grass Green Tanager, backlit in the top of a tree.

Along with the tanagers, Daniel called out names of warblers, wrens, woodcreepers, and other birds. We glimpsed some of these, but I must pause here to say a word about what it’s like to bird in tropical forests. Many people see fabulous photos of tropical birds and naturally assume that these birds will be dripping from every branch. Unfortunately, tropical forest birding can often be very challenging. Many birds never show themselves at all and are “heard only” species, identifiable only by their songs and calls—and yes, Merlin’s Sound ID still has a long way to go to become accurate in places like Colombia. Many other birds can be seen—but mainly high in the tree tops against gray, backlit conditions. This makes it tough to get good views through binoculars, and darned well impossible to capture good photos. Daniel, though, was about to greatly improve our “photography problem.”

Brushfinches are difficult to see in any conditions, but we did get lucky with this look at a beautiful Gray-browed Brushfinch along the road.

Heading into the Enchanted Forest, he took us down to a set of bird of feeders and began hanging bananas and grapes from various wires and branches. In no time, one of the forest’s most spectacular birds showed up—an Andean Motmot! We had glimpsed this bird on the drive in two nights before, but were delighted to have this additional excellent, intimate look.

Andean Motmot.

After we’d filled our share of camera memory space with the motmot, Daniel motioned us to follow him fifty meters down the trail. Even before we arrived, he started calling “Brownie, where are you? Come out, come out!”—or the equivalent in Spanish. As he did so, he set a few worms on a little fallen log about fifteen feet in front of us. Soon, he said, “Get ready. He’s coming!”

Moments later, a brown, football-shaped bird about ten centimeters (4 inches) high hopped up out of nowhere. “There he is!” Daniel cooed.

The “he” in this story was a Brown-banded Antpitta, one of Colombia’s most difficult-to-photograph species—and about as adorable as you can get. Its appearance was no accident, either. Daniel had trained the bird for months to respond to his calls—and the worms. I, for one, was grateful because I never imagined I’d get to see an antpitta in the wild. Not only are they very secretive, they often have very restricted ranges. In fact, the Brown-banded Antpitta is classified as Vulnerable due to habitat loss, and little is known about its biology and behavior.

“Brownie”, the Brown-banded Antpitta. These birds are extremely difficult to observe, but thanks to patient “trainers” like Daniel, lucky visitors like us occasionally get to see them.

We left Daniel to “clean up” after Brownie and walked back to the feeders. As I was about to step into the clearing, however, I hissed, “Roger, stop!” There, perched on a feeder branch only seven or eight meters away, sat one of the other birds we especially hoped to see—Black-billed Mountain-Toucan! Roger quickly snapped some excellent photos, but I managed only a couple of crummy ones before the bird flew. Still, it was the only BBMT we would see on the trip.

Snooze, you lose. Due to having my camera on incorrect settings, I managed only a poor shot of this Black-billed Mountain-Toucan before it fled with its fruity booty.

Back on the road, we made our way through cloudy conditions down to the trail that left from the parking area above the lodge (see previous post). We returned to the hummingbird viewing platform and immediately saw a species that got Daniel excited: an uncommon hummingbird called a White-throated Daggerbill. Of course, there were also eleven other species of hummingbirds as well (always, always, hummingbirds), but unbeknownst to us, we were about to meet one of the coolest birds that we’d ever seen.

After a few minutes watching the hummingbird action, Daniel motioned us to follow him down to another little spot about thirty meters away. Here he again pulled out his worm bag and began calling, “Gordita! Gordita! Come out!” Gordita, of course, means “little fat one” in Spanish, and both Roger and I chuckled. But who exactly was Gordita?

R2D2? No, meet Gordita—a Chestnut-crowned Antpitta that quickly hopped into our hearts.

After a few moments, out hopped one of the most remarkable birds I’d ever seen. It was another antpitta—this one, a Chestnut-crowned Antpitta! The bird was about twice the size of Brownie the Brown-banded Antpitta and to me it looked just like a little R2 unit from Star Wars. In an instant, it became one of my favorite birds ever, and I’m pretty sure Roger felt the same way.

Daniel’s surprises weren’t over. Continuing on down the trail, he called in another remarkable bird—a Rufous-Crowned Tody-Flycatcher. At least three or four of these would easily fit into your hand, but again, we never would have seen it without Daniel’s knowledge and expertise.

Rufous-capped Tody-Flycatcher.

Which brings up an important point about Colombian birding. While it is possible to bird on your own in Colombia, I highly recommend taking advantage of its growing network of lodges. Although much safer than it used to be, the country does still have its share of problems, ranging from common crime and armed conflict to dangerous road and trail conditions. Taking advantage of the expertise of lodges will help make sure you don’t accidentally wander into a hazardous area. Even better, the lodges we encountered use locally-trained, Colombian guides. Many, like Daniel, speak excellent English, and prices are extremely reasonable. By hiring them, foreign visitors are giving a boost to the local economy—and creating more incentive to protect Colombia’s environment.

After getting our fill of the tody-flycatcher, Daniel led us back down to the Social for a well-deserved (or at least well-received) lunch prepared by the Owl’s Watch cook, David. It had been a splendid day all-around and we so appreciated everything Daniel had shown us. Even better, we were excited to have one more day of birding at Owl’s Watch. That, however, didn’t keep us from eagerly anticipating our next great Colombian lodge destination—which I’ll introduce in the next post!

Roger and our guide, Daniel, birding the road above Owl’s Watch.