Category Archives: Hummingbirds

Braden’s Costa Rica Report #4: Osa Peninsula Adventure

Braden and I write FatherSonBirding in the hopes of sharing the wonders of birds and birding, and the urgency to protect them. We do not accept advertising or donations, but if you’d like to support our work, please consider buying *NEW* copies of some of Sneed’s books—First-Time Japan, for instance, or my recent Orbis Pictus Award winner, Border Crossings. We appreciate your interest and hope you will keep reading!

A low growl emanated from the dense jungle up the hillside from the highway, stopping me in my tracks. The sun hadn’t even thought about rising yet, since I’d woken up before 5 a.m., but some animals were awake, including the Crested Owl I’d just heard call from the rainforest. I laughed in disbelief as I stood on the side of the highway, looking up the hill. While I could not see the animal, Crested Owl was one of the country’s largest owl species and one I’d been hoping for but not expecting to get during my time here. And yet here one was, singing for me as I began my trek from El Chontal (my hostel) to the Río Rincon Bridge in extreme southwestern Costa Rica.

The walk from the hostel to the bridge was about an hour, and as I plodded along the highway, I could hear and feel the forest waking up. Little Tinamous and Great Curassows called in the dark, and about half an hour before dawn many other species of birds started up. Immense roars echoed from high in trees as male Mantled Howler Monkeys welcomed the sun into the sky, and I eventually arrived at my destination, the bridge spanning the Río Rincón. Nearly every birder visiting the Osa Peninsula stopped here, albeit usually with a vehicle and not on foot. The bridge offered great views of mangroves to the east and rainforest to the west, as well as a wide open vista from which to watch parrots of many species leave their roosts in search of food. The primary reason birders stopped here, however, was for a specific, critically-endangered bird species: the Yellow-billed Cotinga.

**My early morning walk rewarded me with multiple looks at Yellow-billed Cotingas, rare and beautiful birds endemic to southwest Costa Rica.**

Cotingas are a strange, remarkable and hilarious group of birds. These plump birds feed primarily on fruit and come in a wide variety of shapes and colors, including tangerine orange, like the Andean Cock-of-the-rock, shadow black, like the Bare-necked Umbrellabird, or electric blue, like the Turquoise Cotinga. The family features some of the world’s weirdest species, like the monk-like Capuchinbird, and the loudest birds in the world, the bellbirds, one of which resides in Costa Rica (and will be my target for my final weekend trip in this country, so stay tuned!).

Yellow-billed Cotingas are angelic white, and are endemic to southwestern Costa Rica and extreme western Panama. They live in extensive lowland rainforest and mangroves, and thanks to habitat decimation, are largely restricted to the Osa Peninsula, one of the country’s wildest remaining areas. This species was one of the primary reasons that I had requested to skip classes this week and visit this far-away peninsula, and the Río Rincón Bridge was the most reliable place to see them.

By the time I arrived, barely before dawn, the birds were already active. Hordes of parrots, from the pint-sized Orange-chinned Parakeets to the chunky Red-lored Parrots to the spectacular Scarlet Macaws, flew over me towards distant locations. A Bare-throated Tiger-Heron hunted for fish in the river, and another one, a juvenile covered in its namesake black and orange stripes, watched from a nearby tree. The sandy river island hosted several Spotted Sandpipers, a Willet and a Northern Jacana—the first I’d ever seen. Jacanas have massive feet which they use to walk atop lily pads, although there weren’t any lily pads in sight here. Flocks of swallows and swifts wheeled overhead, and I spotted a few Fiery-billed Aracaris swooping across the river, their flame-colored bills shining in the sun.

**Even though I’d already seen them on the trip, I had yet to grow bored seeing a Bare-throated Tiger-Heron.**

As I stood on the bridge, unsure of where to look for the cotingas, I heard a distinctive song from a nearby tree. The “bouncing-ball” call sounded exactly like a Wrentit, a bird native to the chaparral of California, which had never been recorded in Costa Rica and probably never will be. I knew exactly what it was, though, since I’d studied the song the night before and noticed the resemblance it had to a Wrentit. I walked over to the tree and whipped out my speaker, playing the call right back at the bird. Then, a large, blue and red bird flew in and landed several dozen feet above my head in clear view: Baird’s Trogon. This had also been one of my chief targets on the Osa, given that it was difficult to find nearly anywhere else in the country, and I snapped some poor photos of it before returning to my cotinga watch. After about fifteen minutes, that watch paid off, as a mottled gray female cotinga flew over, landing briefly in a tree in front of me before disappearing in the foliage. “Well, that wasn’t the view I’d hoped for,” I said to myself, a bit disappointed but still relieved that I’d seen my target species. The cotingas weren’t done yet, though. Over the next hour and a half, I spotted seven more of the birds flying over, many of them strikingly-white males. I got a decent picture of one in flight, too.

**Despite the poor photo, Baird’s Trogon was one of the chief targets of my Osa Peninsula trip—and at least the sixth species of trogon I’d seen in Costa Rica!**

After two hours of great birding, I walked back along the highway to my hostel. From there, I packed up and caught the bus down to Puerto Jiménez, the largest city on the Osa (which is still quite small). I found a small soda (the name for any number of small, family-owned restaurants in Costa Rica) and waited there for about an hour before a tiny, run-down van pulled up in front of it at 11. “Dos Brazos?” asked the lady driving it, and I nodded, throwing my bag in the van and climbing up after it. The interior of the van was in rough shape, although the seats were comfortable, and I taught the lady’s young son how to use my binoculars as we rattled up dirt roads towards the “town” of Dos Brazos, hidden deep in the rainforest.

**Riverside Wren—Costa Rica’s Most Stylish Wren???**

The woman let me off in front of the reception house for the Bolita Rainforest Hostel, where an American greeted me. “Welcome to Bolita! The hostel is a 30-minute hike that way,” she pointed up into the jungle. So, I set off, my heavy pack on my back. I spotted a pair of Buff-rumped Warblers next to a creek I had to cross, and eventually arrived at the open-air hostel, caked in sweat. Another American and several volunteers from all over the world greeted me cheerfully, showing me to my “room”, an outdoor bed with a mosquito net over it. There was no “inside” at Bolita, except maybe the supply closet, which hosted half a dozen roosting bats on its walls. After I settled down, Pascal, an older French volunteer, noticed my binoculars.

**I wonder how many Hilton Honors points I’ll get for my stay at the Bolita Rainforest Hostel—a place with superb “air-conditioning!”**

“Are you a birdwatcher?”

I nodded, and she proceeded to pull out a faded “Birds of Costa Rica” book, flipping it open to a page with small, colorful birds on it. She pointed to the bird that just so happened to be my number one remaining target for the entire trip: Orange-collared Manakin.

“I saw these guys here! The males all dance for the females at places called leks, and I found a lek on one of the hostel trails. I can show you if you’d like!”I nodded profusely—fate had somehow delivered to me the perfect opportunity to see the bird I wanted to see most here. Soon, Pascal led me and a few other interested guests up the “Big Banana Trail.” After twenty minutes of hiking, we rounded a corner and heard claps from the nearby trees. Pascal waded a few feet into the foliage off the trail, and pointed. There they were, tiny, football-shaped birds with sunset-colored collars and tiny black caps, like the White-collared Manakins I’d seen in Sarapiqui but with fiery rather than white throats. We enjoyed them for fifteen or minutes or so before everyone else wandered back down towards the hostel. I decided to poke around the trails a bit longer—and I’m glad I did.

**Once I arrived at the hostel, and thanks to a new friend, it took me only minutes to find my last remaining Osa Peninsula target bird, Orange-collared Manakin.**

Almost immediately, I heard the loud, repeating call of a wren coming from a tangle near me, and with a little verbal coercion, I was able to spot the culprit: a Black-bellied Wren, another southwestern Costa Rica specialty bird. This wren happened to be the beginning of a large mixed flock and I spotted several more wrens as well as antshrikes, antwrens, a foliage-gleaner, and a Little Tinamou, a hard-to-see forest bird, feeding right on the trail in front of me. I stopped at one lookout and watched as the birds came to me: parrots, flycatchers, hummingbirds and more. Highlights included a female Thick-billed Seed-finch, a tiny bird with a massive bill; an Olive-sided Flycatcher, a bird that winters in South America and summers in the boreal forest of Montana and Maine; and a Purple-crowned Fairy, a flashy, usually-arboreal hummingbird that steals nectar from flowers rather than pollinating them. Extremely satisfied with this mid-day birding, I headed back to the hostel to watch the sunset.

**Scarlet Macaws are one of the birds most people want to see in Costa Rica, and in the Osa Peninsula, I found no shortage of these spectacular creatures.**

I found a nice little bench overlooking much of the rainforest and quickly realized that even the hostel had great bird activity. Piratic Flycatchers, Scarlet-rumped Tanagers and Bananaquits flew around me, and about an hour before dusk, I spotted another bird that blew me away: another cotinga, this one the color of the sky. I’d looked for Turquoise Cotingas three days earlier and completely missed them, and yet here they were, delivered right to my doorstep in all their blue and violet glory. I had gotten, quite simply, every bird I’d wanted to see on the Osa Peninsula. And I still had one morning left!

**One of the trails I explored near the Bolita Rainforest Hostel.**

That morning was spent exploring more of the trails behind the Bolita Rainforest Hostel. With no real targets, I just set off into the jungle, hoping to discover something unexpected, and I did! I spotted three more lifers, including Black-crowned Tityra, Black-cheeked Ant-tanager (the only species completely endemic to the Osa Peninsula) and a Northern Black-throated Trogon, which was one of four trogon species I reported on my hike. I heard dozens of antbirds, antwrens, antshrikes and antthrushes, spotted groups of Scarlet Macaws flying high above me, and watched the sunrise over the misty hills stretching all the way out to the Pacific Ocean. I’d seen some beautiful places in Costa Rica so far, but none had been so wild as here. From one vantage point, I could see no signs of human habitation—just forest and sea. Even for a country that has done so well protecting its environment, places like this are rare, and I’m so happy I got to experience it.

**A lone Scarlet Macaw flies across the dawn sky—my last morning in the Osa Peninsula, and one I’ll never forget.**

You can experience it too! Whether you want to see the jungles of Central America, like me, or the snow-capped peaks of the Alps or the Andes, the castles of Europe, the hubbub of Tokyo or the grasslands of the Serengeti, you can, with the help of the Gilman Scholarship! I’m sure I sound like a broken record, but it’s because it’s true—the Gilman can help low-income college students reach far away destinations to study abroad with just a simple application! I urge you to apply today, so you can have a life-changing, international experience during your college years, like me!

Braden’s Costa Rica Report #3: El Copal

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Not many of us have the resources to bird outside of our own regions, and if you are part of that large club, you’re in luck. Braden is spending the spring semester of his junior year studying abroad in Costa Rica. He has 16 full weekends to work with and it’s no surprise that birding is on the agenda for every one of them. Here is his latest report—to a place that is not only a wonderful birding destination, but a model of sustainable agriculture. Enjoy!

I arrived at La Reserva El Copal just as the sun dipped behind the rainforest-covered foothills, my clothes soaked with sweat and every part of my body tired from the four bus rides and two-hour walk it had taken to get to one of Costa Rica’s best birding locations. My weekends in Monteverde and Jaco had been eventful and fun, but I was in need of some solo birding time, and so four days earlier I had made a reservation for this inexpensive, out-of-the-way property sitting on the lower slopes of the Cordillera de Talamanca. Patricia and Beto, the couple that ran the reserve, warmly welcomed me as darkness fell, showing me to my room and then to the dining hall for a dinner by candlelight. As I stared at the photos of rare and colorful hummingbirds on the walls, I realized that I was the only guest staying here for the night. Patricia served my rice and beans and said that she and Beto usually lived in Pejibaye, the town the final bus had dropped me off in, and only came up here when guests arrived, which wasn’t particularly frequently in January and February. This surprised me, given El Copal’s location and the high number of desirable bird species reported from here.

**Even a glance of the grounds explains why El Copal is one of Costa Rica’s top birding destinations.**

The next morning I arose at dawn, grabbed my binoculars and camera and headed off into the property as the trees began to glow with increasing sunlight. Almost immediately after stepping outside, a small, dark hummingbird buzzed by me, stopping to feed at one of the many flower bushes adorning the property. Despite the fact that it was still dark, I could clearly see the brilliant white cap for which the bird was named—Snowcap, which, in the weeks leading up to my trip to Costa Rica, had quickly risen up the ranks as one of my most-wanted birds. Rare denizens of the Caribbean slope, there were very few places in the country where these birds were reliable. El Copal was one of them, and I ended up seeing at least half a dozen of them during my stay here. The tiny, fairy-like hummingbirds eliminated any doubt I had about making this trip!

**El Copal is one of the few places to reliably see Snowcap hummingbirds, and fortunately, they are there in abundance!**

El Copal is full of rare birds. Back in the late 90s, the land now holding El Copal had been purchased by several families for agriculture. Instead of developing the rainforest, however, they decided to first establish a form of sustainable agriculture, then open it up for ecotourism, preserving much of the primary forest on the property. Now, some of Costa Rica’s most sought-after birds (and other animals) thrive here, thanks to the decision of those local farmers. This includes the Snowcap and a variety of other hummingbirds, as well as my #1 Target Bird for the whole country: Yellow-eared Toucanet. Of the six toucan species found in the country, this toucanet is the rarest, only found in middle elevation-rainforest on the Caribbean slope. El Copal seemed to be one of the best places to find them in the whole world, and I had my fingers crossed as I headed up the steep trails leading into the reserve.

The morning was…complicated. I heard a whole lot of birdsong, but very few of the singers actually presented themselves for good looks. Merlin (the bird identification app developed by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology) was only so helpful, as there are significantly fewer recordings of Latin American species than North American species. Bird sounds that the app identified for me included Bright-rumped Attila, Broad-billed Motmot, and Northern Schiffornis, the latter of which is an entirely brown bird with one of the most entertaining whistling songs I’ve ever heard. Despite my frustration at not being able to see many of the birds hidden in the foliage, I did get eyes on a few. I spotted both a Collared Aracari and a Keel-billed Toucan, two species of toucans quite common in this type of rainforest. And I did lay eyes on several large, mixed flocks of tanagers, colorful birds that traverse the forest in search of fruit. The species I picked out at the tops of trees included Silver-throated, Emerald, Speckled, Golden-hooded, Hepatic, Summer, Scarlet-rumped, Tawny-crested, Black-and-yellow, and Bay-headed Tanagers. I also got to watch a family group of coatis quietly foraging on the trail ahead of me. They scattered when I stepped on a branch by accident.

**The tanagers put on a real show around the El Copal lodge—including this spectacular Emerald Tanager.**

I returned to the main property for breakfast, then headed off on a different trail, this one leading down towards a stream. I found a Buff-rumped Warbler foraging on the rocks in the water, and peered around tree ferns and buttressed trees to try and glimpse the calls I was hearing. This trail also took a left turn and then continued up the mountain, and further up I spotted Scarlet-rumped Caciques and Chestnut-headed Oropendolas, big grackle-like birds making crazy calls. As I rounded a corner, a shiny green bird with a long bill alighted on a branch in front of me. The bird’s beak was longer and thinner than that of a kingfisher, and it had a warm, orange belly complementing its shimmering, green back: a Rufous-tailed Jacamar! Few birds had given me such a good look that morning, and I stood there for several minutes, watching the bird peer down at me curiously. A few minutes later, a large Ornate Hawk-Eagle soared through a gap in the trees, and my attitude began to improve—the birds were showing themselves! On the way down, I heard a rising and falling song, signifying the presence of an antbird. I poked around a little, eventually getting eyes on a Bicolored Antbird overturning leaves! This species, like many other antbirds, are ant-following obligates, meaning that they depend on army ants to find food. As large swarms of army ants rush through the rainforest, they stir up and scare hundreds of other insects, who leap out of the way, straight into the waiting mouths of antbirds, antwrens, woodcreepers and a variety of other birds that just follow the ants around. Ground-cuckoos, one of the most enigmatic groups of birds, also belong to this ant-following group.

While I didn’t actually lay eyes on any army ants, the antbirds signified that there must have been some nearby. The leafcutter ants, meanwhile, were everywhere. Their trails ran alongside and crisscrossed the walking trails, and I always had to keep an eye on the ground so I wouldn’t step on any.

**One of the best parts of my visit to El Copal was meeting Carlos, who pointed out this perched Ornate Hawk-Eagle near the lodge.**

When I arrived back at the lodge for lunch, another birder who had just arrived pointed out another Ornate Hawk-Eagle, this one perched up on a distant snag. As I peered at the bird through his spotting scope, he introduced himself as Carlos, a local also living in Pejibaye. Carlos is an English teacher and regularly visits El Copal during weekends to search for the hundreds of bird species found here. I told him that I hailed from the University of Maine, and spoke of my hunt for the Yellow-eared Toucanet. He looked at his watch. “I’ve got a few more hours…do you want to hike the trails and look for the toucanet together?” So, after a quick lunch, we headed back up the mountain in search of my target.

**Thanks to my chance meeting with Carlos, a teacher and Costa Rican bird expert who can identify most of the birds by sound, I got to see one of my most sought-after Costa Rican species (keep reading).**

Carlos’s knowledge of the birds of the area was impressive. For one, he could identify many of the calls I’d felt hopeless about earlier, which included more species of antbirds, Collared Trogon, and several species of wrens. He also knew exactly where all the birds hung out, at one spot pointing down the side of the cliff to a White-crowned Manakin, a tiny black bird with a white cap, sitting in a bush fifty meters away. “He’s always here.”

As we gained altitude, I could begin to see the influence of cloud forest. Slightly different species lived here, and the plant composition looked different, too. One thing in particular made us realize we’d entered a higher-altitude area, however. “Toucanet!” Carlos yelled, pointing to a large, bromeliad-covered tree rising from the slope. I held my binoculars up to see, not my target bird, but an entirely green toucan: a Northern Emerald Toucanet! We tried in vain to photograph the species but neither of our cameras would cooperate, although it will be a long time before I forgot what it felt like to see that bird. This species is much more common at higher altitudes, and it was the first time Carlos had ever seen one on the property! It was, of course, a lifer (a bird I’ve never seen before) for me. As if the Emerald Toucanet wasn’t enough, as we rounded the corner, Carlos stopped me again.

Slowly and quietly, he pointed out a large-ish bird sitting about twenty meters in front of us, up in a tree. The bird was black, with a chestnut cap complementing the blue and green skin around its eye. Its long yellow and black beak, combined with green wings, orange flanks and red rump, identified it as the bird I’d been searching for: a female (hembra in Spanish) Yellow-eared Toucanet. I just about lost my mind, holding my camera up slowly with shaky hands. Never had I actually believed I would lay eyes on one, and yet, here one was, right in front of us. Then, the male appeared, sporting that yellow ear the species was named after.

**Again thanks to Carlos, I had an unforgettable experience with the bird at the top of my “must see” list—a pair of Yellow-eared Toucanets (male shown here).**

We enjoyed the birds for about ten minutes, then headed off, as Carlos had to get back home. I thanked him profusely for sharing these amazing birds with me, and we exchanged contact information. Then, I spent the rest of the evening looking at and deleting photos and enjoying the tanagers feeding in the fruiting trees in front of the rooms. Before I went to bed, I spotted several of what I believe to be bioluminescent beetles flying through the rainforest (though they may have been fireflies. I’m not good with bugs.).

**No, this Speckled Tanager was not touched up by artists for my visit!**

In total, I spotted 117 species at El Copal over the weekend, including a few the next morning like King Vulture, Gartered Trogon and Green Thorntail. La Reserva El Copal could be described as nothing short of magical. Are there places like this that you’ve always wanted to visit? A mountain range full of endemic plants? A reserve dedicated to protecting endangered amphibians? Perhaps your bucket list is topped with places like the Serengeti, the Great Barrier Reef, the ancient castles of Ireland? If you are, the Gilman Scholarship can help you get to these places! Studying abroad is an experience that every student should have the opportunity to have, and the Gilman helps put this philosophy into practice. The money they awarded me has helped me afford to go on adventures like this, the rain-forested foothills of Costa Rica, and they can help you too! So please, if you’re considering studying abroad (which you should be), apply to the Gilman!

Braden’s First Costa Rica Report: Monteverde

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Many annoying things have kept me (Sneed) from birding so far this year. Not so Braden, who is enjoying a semester abroad in the town of San Ramón, Costa Rica. In just his first few days, he tallied almost 100 Life Birds—and he’s just getting started. Here is his first report, from a weekend trip to the cloud forest haven of Monteverde, where I visited to research a book almost thirty years ago.

The town of San Ramón and its colorful, ramshackle buildings sits in an ecological crossroads as far as Costa Rica’s ecosystems are concerned, located near Caribbean slope rainforest, Pacific slope dry forest and high-altitude cloud forest. The dry tropical forest, situated in the northwest part of the country, is a habitat characterized by distinct dry and wet seasons. The southwestern part of the country (including the Osa Peninsula) holds tropical rainforest, and these two habitats constitute the “Pacific Slope.” The “Caribbean Slope,” meanwhile, is all rainforest, although its communities differ from those of the Pacific rainforests. Why? Several large mountain ranges run through the middle of the country, reaching heights of 3,800m (about 12,500 feet) in the Talamancas to the south. These mountain ranges not only separate species living on the Pacific Slope from those living on the Caribbean Slope, but also hold another, incredibly important ecosystem: the cloud forest. This ecosystem is the one I’d been most wanting to visit since learning about it a decade ago, and so, on the first of our semester’s sixteen three-day weekends, two fellow UMaine students, Kiley Chen and Leah Hart, and I caught the bus towards Santa Elena for a two-night adventure.

**Okay, maybe we do look a little TOO happy in this photo, but can you blame us? We’re in COSTA RICA!!!**

The long and winding bus ride did not do good things for our stomachs, but soon enough, we arrived in Santa Elena. The next morning, we caught a taxi up the mountain to the Monteverde Cloud Forest Biological Reserve. Despite the fact that this reserve is a well-known tourist destination, especially during the dry season (December-April), Kiley, Leah and I were the first people to arrive, and proceeded to spend the next seven hours exploring the cloud forest, hiking nearly every trail available to us. It blew our minds.

**Cloud forests are especially known for their CRAZY abundance and diversity of epiphytes—plants that grow on other plants.**

A forest with nearly 100% humidity year-round is a botanist’s dream. Giant bromeliads grew from every branch, and we could hardly see the bark on the trees because of the high densities of moss and lichen. Thick, woody vines (known as lianas) hung down from above, and prehistoric-looking tree ferns, with the trunk of a tree and the leaves of a fern, rose above us. At one point we walked across a red, metal bridge suspended above a gully, and we could see just how the habitat had received its name. Powerful winds carried large fogbanks through the trees, and we could not see more than thirty or so feet out from any viewpoint because of the mist. These constant clouds, caused by winds from the east and high-altitude condensation, lead to the air being constantly saturated with water, allowing a luxuriance of plants to grow here. High concentrations of plants usually mean high concentrations of animals, and the animals we saw did not disappoint. Leah rescued several giant millipedes from the path during our hike, and at one point we saw a group of White-nosed Coatis approach us, completely fearless as they foraged for insects in the damp soil. From the suspended bridge we spotted a large mixed flock of birds, including Ruddy Treerunners, Spotted Barbtails, Spangle-cheeked Tanagers, Prong-billed Barbets and a variety of warblers (including some that spend the summer in Maine!). And, after returning to the entrance to ask directions, we finally found ourselves sitting on a wet bench, staring at an epiphyte-laden tree looking for Resplendent Quetzals.

The Resplendent Quetzal is not the national bird of Costa Rica, but with all of the attention it garners, it might as well be. We spotted a female in the tree as we first arrived, admiring its deep, emerald green plumage reflecting light through the mist. The real prize we sought, however, was the male—a bird of emerald and ruby, with green tail streamers up to three feet long. These birds are altitudinal migrants, meaning that they spend the non-breeding season at lower elevations. During the breeding season, they travel upslope to the cloud forest to feed on wild avocados and raise young. They are icons of the cloud forest, a rare animal living in a rare habitat. Eventually, as we sat on that bench, we did spot a male, although the look was incredibly brief and unsatisfying. What was satisfying were the other animals that paid us a visit : Spider Monkeys. After sitting there for about thirty minutes, we suddenly spotted movement in the tree ahead of us. From the leaves emerged a pair of long-limbed, rust-orange monkeys, a mother and baby, and we watched spellbound as they swung effortlessly from branch to branch in front of us. It was awesome.

Emerging from the forest, we made a stop at Café Colibri, a restaurant known for and named after the feeders it hangs in the garden outside, and the animals that visit those feeders. At Café Colibri, we spotted seven different species of hummingbirds, almost thirty or so different individuals, each zipping right by our faces in search of sugar water. The hummingbirds had a hierarchy, with the large Violet Sabrewings bullying many of the smaller birds. My favorite of the hummers were the Purple-throated Mountain-gems, the males of which had turquoise foreheads and violet gorgets that shimmered in the sunlight.

We walked back down the road to Santa Elena, admiring the rainbows formed by the mist being blown down the mountain. Following a short rest, we headed out again, this time with a guide to see what animals dwelled in the mountain forests at night. The night walk exceeded our expectations. Our guide, Brandon, pointed out all manner of animals, including Pygmy Rain Frogs, a Robust Climbing Salamander, a Horned Tarantula, an Orange-kneed Tarantula, a Stripe-sided Palm Pitviper loafing in a tree, and two Keel-billed Toucans, fast asleep above us (or they were, until someone pointed a light at them). At one point Brandon wetted a stick with his lips and used it to try to draw a tarantula out of its burrow for us. On our walk back to the entrance to the forest, we spooked a Mottled Owl from its perch in a large banana tree.

Our weekend in Monteverde abounded with sightings of wildlife, and while it may sound like an out-of-reach location for college students, it’s not! The Gilman Scholarship, a scholarship specifically provided to low-income students looking to study abroad and experience new places, is a large part of how I was able to afford going to Costa Rica this semester. If you’re looking to go to Costa Rica, or Ireland, or Japan, or anywhere else, but are worried about the costs, I highly recommend applying for the Gilman. It’s easy to apply, and can support you following your dreams of spending part of your college experience in another country. If you’re enjoying learning about my time abroad and want to have a similar experience of your own, I could not recommend the Gilman more.

Monteverde was just the first place I’ve visited since I’ve been here in Costa Rica, and I already have more weekend trips planned for the next few weeks, so be sure to check out my next blog to learn about the other cool wildlife and ecosystems I see!

**Collared Trogon—named after our family, of course!**

Arizona 2022, Part 3: Trogons & Border Walls

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After our almost magical previous day, Braden and I debated spending a second day and night in Portal. However, Braden had to be at his job in the Sierras in only five days, and we were already dropping some desirable hotspots from our visit list, so we “bit the birdseed” and packed up camp. Before we left the Chiricahuas, though, we had a major mission: to see one of America’s most sought-after birds, the Elegant Trogon. To be honest, I had seen trogons—including the famed Resplendent Quetzal—in Costa Rica, and Braden and I had both seen trogons again in Ecuador, although not the Elegant. The idea that this very exotic-looking bird actually bred in the U.S., however, made the quest almost irresistible. Fortunately, the trogon hangouts along Cave Creek are pretty well-known as at least two or three pairs breed there. We drove slowly without hearing any and then parked at a trailhead to continue our search on foot.

**Scott’s Oriole was high on our “to see” list before the trip, and it was gratifying to see them several times on our trip!**

Almost immediately, we scored a great look at a brilliant male Scott’s Oriole, and not long afterward, our first good looks at Sulphur-bellied Flycatcher, a bird that immediately shot to the top of my favorite flycatcher list for its unique, bold looks and elusive behavior. We’d gone about half a mile, playing leapfrog with other trogon-hunters, when we heard a distinctive barking call behind us. “That’s it!” Braden exclaimed and I chased him back down the trail to find that the bird was easier to hear than see. I was creeping through some brush when Braden motioned vigorously. “Daddy, look up!” I did—to find myself staring at an orange-and-white butt. I quickly crept out to where Braden stood and, sure enough, there perched the trogon in full glory. The bird sat in a way not conducive to great photos, but we were nonetheless thrilled, and Braden went to retrieve the other trogon-hunters, who “oohed” and “ahed” appropriately.

**Well, this photo won’t win me a Pulitzer, but you can tell why this is the bird that comes up most often in Arizona birder conversation!**

After a quick stop at one of the town’s feeder stations, we left Portal via New Mexico and headed toward our next Arizona destination, paralleling the border. Seeing the border again after six years proved a shock. When we had visited in 2016, the border remained “wall-free”. We had observed low vehicle barriers and perhaps some barbed wire, but little that would impede wildlife. This time it was a much different story as an ugly steel barrier stretched from horizon to horizon, an all but impenetrable obstacle erected with little or no thought to the many animals that migrate back and forth through the desert. That, of course, is not to mention the human toll of the wall and the dishonest politics of blame and xenophobia that led to its creation.

The newly-erected border wall not only prevents normal movements of myriad animal species—with potentially devastating impacts—it divides historically connected communities and fuels horrible relations with a country we benefit greatly from.

Pushing on, we stopped for lunch in Sierra Vista, by-passing world-famous Ramsey Canyon (sorry, Nick!), and proceeded to a destination highlighted in the movie The Big Year: Patagonia. By now, our first real Arizona heat had begun to set in, but we stopped twice, first at the Arizona Birding Tours feeders and then at the wonderful oasis of Tucson Audubon’s Paton Center for Hummingbirds. And yes, we did see hummingbirds! Violet-crowned and Broad-billed were the stars, but Anna’s and Black-chinned also availed themselves of our attention.

**We generally had poor luck capturing the glorious colors of our new Lifer hummingbirds, but at least this Violet-crowned posed nicely for us at Patagonia’s Paton Center for Hummingbirds.**

Both locations also proved a magnet for other Arizona staples including Gila and Ladder-backed Woodpeckers; Blue Grosbeaks; Bewick’s Wrens; Hooded Orioles; and most surprising, Yellow-breasted Chat. However, by late mid-afternoon, the effects of four days of non-stop travel and birding were starting to tell on us, and we decided to take the night off at an air-conditioned hotel in nearby Nogales. We needed the rest, and we also had to make an important decision—how to spend our last full day in Arizona!

Braden’s Big Year Count at the end of the day: 386! (Beginning of year goal: 400)

**One thing we learned on this trip is that Gila Woodpeckers do not always sit posed on top of a perfect saguaro cactus!**

Arizona 2022, Part 2: Portal Dreaming

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In this post, we continue our account of our return to southern Arizona while on a quest to get Braden to his Big Year goal of 400 bird species. To read the first part of our journey, click here. As always, we appreciate you sharing this post, and if you haven’t already done so, subscribing by filling out the box below and to the right. Enjoy!

After our close encounter with bedbugs, we set off from Safford early the next morning and were pulling into our trip’s first Major Destination by 8:45 a.m. When we had contemplated visiting Portal, Arizona during our 2016 Big Year, we had considered it as “a place to see hummingbirds.” Six years later, we still wanted hummingbirds, but harbored a long list of other targets—including a slew of Lifers and Year Birds that would propel Braden closer to his Big Year goal of 400 species. Driving into town, we blundered into our first. I had pulled over so Braden could get a look at some Phainopeplas (see next post) when I noticed a large-ish bird over in a sage plant. Getting my eyes on it, I saw right away that it was some kind of kingbird—and that it had an extraordinarily large bill! Turns out it was a Thick-billed Kingbird that had been reported around town recently! This Code 2 rarity created great momentum for the day—one that would not diminish until we were snug in our sleeping bags 12 hours later.

**Thanks to Braden’s patient mentoring, I have grown a much greater appreciation for flycatchers, including this Lifer, a Dusky-capped.**

But back to those hummingbirds, it’s true that Portal does have hummingbirds thanks to the many kind people who put up bird feeders, but of equal avian importance is that the town sits at the mouth of a canyon of the Chiricahua Mountains. One of Arizona’s famed “sky island” mountain ranges, the Chiricahuas attract a host of birds from Mexico that are uncommon in the US, from Mexican Chickadees and Yellow-eyed Juncos to Sulphur-bellied Flycatchers and everyone’s Number One target, Elegant Trogons. After grabbing a campsite at Sunny Flat campground, Braden and I set up our tents and, as the day was already warming, decided to drive to high altitudes for our first proper birding session. We had a couple of specific destinations in mind, but as we wound our way slowly up the dirt road, we decided to pull over at a small stream crossing—and are so glad we did! Almost immediately, one of our favorite birds—Painted Redstart—perched over our heads. This was followed by a veritable bird parade that included Hepatic & Western Tanagers, Hutton’s Vireos, Bridled Titmice, Grace’s Warblers, and Dusky-capped and Cordilleran Flycatchers—all birds we had especially wanted to see or hear!

**Painted Redstart was our Bird of the Trip during our first visit to Arizona in 2016. Seeing it again, we agreed it had been an excellent choice!**

After a few more miles, we reached a loose collection of canyon campsites strung out along the road. The canyon held a wonderful mix of conifers and oaks, and in five minutes, we saw two Life Birds: Yellow-eyed Junco and Red-faced Warbler. The Red-faced Warbler is one of those birds that you learn about, but don’t really believe exists until you see it perched in front of you. Not to be out-done, the junco put on a great show for us, often collecting nesting materials at our feet as we burned gigabytes of camera storage photographing it! One bird we searched for and didn’t find was Mexican variety Spotted Owl. “That’s okay,” I reasoned. “I never really expected to see one of those in my lifetime, anyway.”

It was such a beautiful spot that we decided to have a picnic lunch there before moving back to higher elevation, but before we did, we took one last look around for an owl. Braden was trying to photograph a couple of Verdin when I turned and glanced up in a tree—only to be greeted by the unmistakable silhouette of an owl. Braden was saying, “I guess we’re not going to find the owl,” when I casually remarked, “Except that I just found it.” He thought I was kidding, but I pointed up into the tree, and we both fell into a silent reverie that lasted a full fifteen minutes.

**Like so many birds Braden and I have encountered together, this Spotted Owl is one I thought I’d never see.**

If we’d seen nothing else on the trip, that owl would have made the entire journey worthwhile. Nonetheless, we bid it adieu and headed up to a place called Rustler Park. Here, thanks to Braden’s hard work and determination, we found two more Lifers: Mexican Chickadee and Olive Warbler—the bird that isn’t really a warbler, but inhabits its own strange group of birds. Remarkably, our day still had a long way to run.

**If it looks like a warbler, and acts like a warbler . . . well, sometimes it isn’t. This Olive Warbler belongs to its own family of birds, the Peucedramidae.**

Back in Portal, we scoured the bird feeders, and even hung our own feeder in our campsite, netting yet more Lifers: Scott’s Oriole, a bird at the top of my “to see” list, and Blue-throated Mountain Gem, a gorgeous hummer that came right to our camp feeder! As the shadows deepened over Cave Creek Canyon, however, we had one more very special treat in store for us. Grabbing our flashlights, we set off in darkness down Cave Creek Road, listening intently for a trio of nighttime denizens. We heard the haunting call of the Mexican Whip-poor-will, followed quickly by Whiskered Screech Owl, and finally the “bark” of Elf Owls! Standing together, listening to these magical sounds truly was one of our most memorable birding experiences ever and one that we will both cherish as long as we draw breath. The same can be said for the entire day.

Even better, two full days of Arizona birding remained. Would they include, say, an Elegant Trogon? Stay tuned . . .