Category Archives: Humor

Gunnison Sage-grouse: Bird #13 on Braden’s ABA Life List Countdown, April 10th, 2026

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Today, Braden shares the latest installment of his series counting down the remaining ABA Life Birds he has been attempting to see. It’s just like listening to Casey Kasem’s American Top 40 Countdown—but better, because it’s about BIRDS! To catch up on his other recent life bird adventures, click on these previous posts:

Black-chinned Sparrow: Bird #14 on Braden’s ABA Life List Countdown

Fulvous Whistling-Duck: Bird #15 on Braden’s ABA Life List Countdown

Lower 48 Life List Countdown: Crissal Thrasher (Bird #16)

The sun still hadn’t woken up when I pulled over behind the half dozen or so other cars parked along the side of the road. I rolled down my window as a local game biologist approached.

“Are you here for the grouse?”

“Yes,” I answered quietly as a Horned Lark began singing somewhere in the darkness.

“And where are you from?”

“Montana, though I’m en route from California.”

She marked a few things off on her clipboard, then returned to her car. Through the gray pre-dawn darkness, I could make out a huge field of sagebrush, the foreground for Ponderosa-covered hills rising in the distance. In other words, my car was parked on a dirt road surrounded by a typical landscape of the American West. Even the birds were similar to those found in Montana: a winnowing Wilson’s Snipe, calling Red-winged Blackbirds, the husky chirps of a singing Mountain Bluebird. And yet, in Gunnison County, Colorado, there lives a bird that has never lived in Montana. Me and the other birders, silhouetted through their car windows, had driven from various corners of the country to see it: The Gunnison Sage-grouse.

The Gunnison Sage-grouse birder “lek” watching the actual Gunnison Sage-grouse lek in the distance at sunrise.

Superficially, Gunnison Sage-grouse and Greater Sage-grouse aren’t all that different. Both species require expansive sagebrush habitats like the plain that stretched out before me in the rising light. The Greater is larger (hence the name), and, during the breeding season, Gunnisons have much longer filoplumes adorning the males’ heads. While Greater Sage-grouse are found across much of the West, Gunnisons occupy only a small area in Colorado and western Utah. The ranges of the two birds do not overlap.

Many of the birds I saw while driving through Colorado reminded me of my home in Montana—complete with meadowlarks on signs!

Sage-grouse breeding displays are some of North America’s most famous avian experiences. Males and females gather in breeding groups in early spring. Both the breeding groups and their display grounds are commonly referred to as leks. While lekking, the males, decked out in the most ridiculous plumage of any North American bird, pump their chests to the viewing amusement of nearby females. Although I’d seen Greater Sage-grouse a few times in my life, I’d never been able to experience one of these leks. And while there are several sites across the country where one might watch a Greater Sage-grouse lek, there is only a single public Gunnison Sage-grouse lek, a spot about fifteen miles east of Waunita Watchable Wildlife Area. Because of their small population and increasing threats to the habitats they’re found in, the grouse are endangered, and so the public lek is open for viewing only during certain weeks of the year. I had arrived on April 10th, the last day the lek would be open for another two weeks.

The Black Canyon of the Gunnison.

About half an hour before dawn, another birder’s car alarm went off. I could see everyone in their cars wince—Gunnison Sage-grouse are quite sensitive to disturbance, and this could have been enough to send them scampering away. Thankfully, the birds (which were about ¾ of a mile away from the road), didn’t seem bothered, and about ten minutes later, I began to hear the popping sounds of their displays. I eventually located them, distant black dots, even through my binoculars. Fifteen minutes later, with the permission of the biologist, we started getting out of our cars to set up spotting scopes.

Though our “birder lek” stood too far away from the Gunnison Sage-grouse to get photos, their behavior is very similar to lekking Sharp-tailed Grouse, captured here by my dad at Benton Lake NWR a couple of years ago (see post “The Best Prairie Day Ever: Benton Lake NWR.”)

Through the scope my viewing experience was marginally better. I could make out the males, with their furry white chests and black heads, pumping their shoulders at each other. Occasionally, a female would scamper through my view. Though far away, lekking sage-grouse had been on my bucket list for years and taking them in as the sun peeked above the horizon could only be described as a magical experience. Fog escaped my lips every time I took a breath, and a few nearby Sage Thrashers began singing across the road from us. Soon my fellow birders were beginning to whisper to each other, and I learned just how far people had come to see these birds. The man in the car whose alarm had gone off had driven through the night from Oregon en route to a bird point-count job in Oklahoma, stopping here just for this species. Another man had come here from a few hours away. 

As my dad pointed out in his recent post “Colorado’s Ute Mountain Mesa Verde Birding Festival,” numbers of Spotted Towhees in Colorado are CRAZY!

“My kid loves it, birding,” he said to me. “The last year especially, he’s really gotten into it. He wanted to see these grouse, so here we are.” I couldn’t help but see the similarities between that father and son and my birding experiences with my own dad.

After about four minutes of the grouse lekking, a group of birders stormed out of the blind that was set up beside the cars. I’d run into this group last night and learned they were doing a “chicken run.” Colorado is known for having almost every grouse species in the US and tour groups often target all of them during weeks in March and April. One of the birders asked if I knew any nearby spots for White-tailed Ptarmigan before the four of them noisily piled into their car and drove away. So much for staying quiet while the grouse were displaying! Either way, the birds didn’t seem to mind.

I was especially excited to see Pinyon Jays in Colorado, since they can be a challenge to find back home.

Beyond seeing these endangered birds, I had been enjoying seeing more and more landscapes that reminded me of home as I neared the middle of my road trip back to Montana. On my drives through Arizona and Colorado I watched the desert transition into mountainous valleys, complete with juniper and sagebrush-covered canyons, rushing streams with permanent water, and the snowcapped peaks of the San Juans and other mountain ranges. Of course, my trip was nowhere near over. I’d be visiting several more new habitats before that happened. In fact, one of those habitats would be later in the day, where I might just manage to see another life bird! Stay tuned to see what comes next . . .

Bustin’ Out for Birdathon

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The Wings Across the Big Sky Festival is less than two weeks away and Braden I look forward to seeing some of you there. It’s not too late to sign up. Just click here for what promises to be a terrific weekend of birding Montana’s stunning northwest corner. Braden and I will be leading two field trips, one to Tally Lake and the other to the CSKT Bison Range. Even if you’re not on those trips, please say hello! Meanwhile, we are happy to share another recent big birding event—an exhilarating day of Birdathon to raise money for our local Audubon chapter!

On Friday, May 15th, I woke at 4 a.m., excited to be devoting a full day—and I mean FULL—to birding. Unlike most days of birding, however, I and my team of Braden, Susan Snetsinger, and her son Eli would be dedicating our day to raising money for a good cause under the auspices of Birdathon.

Birdathon is an annual event put on by many different bird-related conservation groups, and it works much like those death marches you probably got suckered into as a youngster in which you would commit to walking twenty miles and sign up sponsors to pay you for each mile walked. Birdathon, though, is MUCH more fun than those blister-packing marathons of yesteryear because birding teams get to raise money by BIRDING!

I find it impossible not to photograph Black-necked Stilts when I see them and, indeed, the birds showed up aplenty for Birdathon.

In the spirit of healthy, fund-raising competition, we dubbed our team Bird Domination, but none of us had ever actually participated in a Birdathon. Undaunted, we coerced an assortment of family members and friends to donate money for each bird that we might find, deceitfully telling them that we probably would see about 100 birds during the day—even though we harbored much higher aspirations. Our donations would go to support the wonderful conservation and education work of our local birding chapter, Five Valleys Audubon, and Braden and I diligently crafted a route that would net us the most birds in a single day.

Team Domination: (L to R) Sneed, Braden, Eli, and Susan.

Braden and I decided to start at dawn with a quick trip up Rattlesnake Creek in our own neighborhood to pick up a few birds we might not see anywhere else. Arriving at the trailhead at 5:30 sharp, the birds did not disappoint. In the parking lot, we immediately heard Nashville Warbler and Hammond’s Flycatcher, and walking up the main trail, an American Dipper popped out onto the trail. Turning up a side creek called Spring Gulch, we heard our last two targets for here: Townsend’s Warbler and the boom boom boom of a Ruffed Grouse! Then we hurried back to the car to collect the rest of our teammates so that our proper Birdathon could launch.

It would take way too many words—and probably bore the heck out of you—to give you a blow by blow of the entire day, but to give you the scope of our endeavor, here are the basics and highlights.

Three distant American Bitterns (!) above Sčilíp (formerly Dixon) Marsh. Unimpressed, two Osprey watch from a nest.

Our route took us from Missoula to Sčilíp (formerly Dixon) Marsh and past the CSKT Bison Range to Ninepipe National Wildlife Refuge. From there, we drove to Bigfork, down the Seeley Swan Valley and then over to Browns Lake. Our last big push carried us across the Continental Divide to Great Falls and our final destination—Benton Lake National Wildlife Refuge—before making the long return trip to Missoula.

Total time elapsed: 17-1/2 hours.

Total miles driven: 552.

Swainson’s Hawk perched high on our list of desired raptors and we saw four at Benton Lake NWR.

Before getting to our actual bird highlights, I must say a few words about how much gasoline we consumed. As I’ve continued birding, I’ve been more and more reluctant to drive a lot, even to chase birds since burning gas contributes to climate change and directly impacts the creatures we love. Birdathon, however, coincided with birding destinations Braden and I had planned to visit this spring anyway. I especially wanted to make sure I got over the divide at least once to see some of Montana’s eastern species. So in addition to raising money, Birdathon allowed us to “double dip” on a lot of things we were going to do anyway—and it was a bonus to “carpool” with Susan and Eli, making it a relatively energy-efficient trip overall.

Sandhill Cranes have a habit of nesting right under our noses and, indeed, we discovered one nesting only a few yards away at one of our stops near Browns Lake.

Speaking of energy, I also have to add that while Braden and I drove and planned the event, Susan and Eli kept us energized with homemade egg sandwiches, 18-inch torpedo sandwiches, caffeinated beverages, and an unlimited variety of snacks. In other words, Team Bird Domination set out perfectly prepared to have an epic day. And with that, here are but a few of the day’s incredible highlights:

A fun shorebird assortment at Benton Lake NWR. Can you name them all? (Answer at the bottom)
  • Watching three American Bitterns flying over Sčilíp (formerly Dixon) Marsh. For context, we had never even heard an American Bittern here—and seen and heard only three or four in the entire state. At first, in fact, we thought the three birds might be Great Blue Herons, but Braden’s astute eyes picked out the brown color and dark ends of the wings. WOW!
  • A surprise Short-eared Owl at Ninepipe. Usually, these critters “bed down” a couple of hours after sunrise, but overcast skies probably helped this one keep hunting until we arrived. THANK YOU, OWL.
  • A Long-billed Curlew at Ninepipe—a curlew that turned out to be a WHIMBREL, again, thanks to Braden’s keen ID skills. Only a handful of whimbrels end up in Montana each year, and almost never west of the divide. This was the first one recorded at Ninepipe in six years—a truly rare find that helped render the entire day a spectacular hit, even though it wasn’t half over.
  • A clean sweep of large prairie-dwelling shorebirds at Benton Lake NWR, including Upland Sandpiper, Long-billed Curlew (that didn’t turn into a whimbrel), Willets, and Marbled Godwits.
Grabbing Bird of the Day honors, we caught this rare-for-Montana Hudsonian Whimbrel hanging out with some distant Canada Geese!

Speaking of Benton Lake, this was the first time we’d birded there in mid-May and it was interesting to note who was home. Usually, for instance, there are thousands of breeding Franklin’s Gulls, but we saw only a couple of dozen. Ditto for Eared Grebes which can dot the lake in the many hundreds. We counted fewer than one hundred, though couldn’t accurately assess the far sides of the upper lake where they mostly hang out. On the other hand, we saw more White-faced Ibises than we’d ever seen—about seventy. It’s hard to make any generalizations from this since the bar charts show that all of these birds should be there in strong numbers now, but we did feel that some of the birds are arriving a bit late this year.

A great bonus to birding this time of the year was witnessing several species courting and mating, including these Western Grebes.

Other great birds we saw or heard included Yellow-breasted Chat, a lagging Snow Goose, a Horned Grebe, Cassin’s Vireo, Chestnut-collared and Thick-billed Longspurs, Wilson’s Phalarope, Swainson’s Hawk, and the marsh trifecta of Sora, Virginia Rail, and Wilson’s Snipe. We definitely had a few misses, such as Common Loon, Golden Eagle, Black Tern, and Black-crowned Night Heron but we all agreed that the birds really came through for us, perhaps having heard that our efforts were going to help birds!

Our final tally came in at a mind-blowing 135 species—enough to bankrupt our sponsors and ensure that we will participate in Birdathons far into the future!

Photography did not rank high on our list of priorities during Birdathon, but this Dark-eye Junco with prey did pose for my best ever DEJU shot.

Bird ID Answers: Long-billed Curlew (1), American Avocets (2), Marbled Godwits (5).

Bluebird Day at Browns Lake!

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With all of our recent posts about Costa Rica, you’re probably wondering if we ever bird in Montana anymore! Never fear, we do—a lot! Today we report on an adventure that delivered some remarkable early migration surprises. If you’d like to support our work at FSB, please consider purchasing some of Sneed’s books shown to the right—and support a group such as Birdlife International or Audubon that is working hard to protect birds against climate change and many other perils. Remember: all of our posts are written and photographed by REAL PEOPLE!

I don’t know if it’s because of our recent trip to Costa Rica, my subsequent trip to California, or just the usual spring excitement, but I’ve felt especially eager to get out birding in Montana this spring. At least part of it has to with wanting to learn more about the timing of migration, especially in a year in which Montana hardly experienced winter. How would this impact the birds? I wondered. Would we see things showing up especially early? Fortunately, our friend Susan Snetsinger has felt just as eager to explore, so the past couple of weeks Susan and I have taken all-day adventures to some of our favorite western Montana birding locations. Two weeks ago, we visited Warm Springs and the impressively “remodeled” Lexington Street Pond and wetlands in downtown Butte. We were rewarded with a great variety of waterfowl, including Snow Geese at both locations. The highlight of the day was undoubtedly a great look at a Golden Eagle on the dirt road between Racetrack Pond and Warm Springs.

Snow Geese are always something to celebrate in Montana—including this group at Butte’s fabulously restored Lexington Street wetlands area.

A few days ago, though, Susan and I had a different ambition: to post the season’s first eBird checklist for Browns Lake. This is one of Braden’s and my favorite birding locations, and I don’t think it has ever failed to disappoint. Not only is it a go-to place for breeding Red-necked Grebes and Black Terns, we have found a lot of uncommon species there including Long-tailed Ducks, Pacific Loons, and Ross’s Geese. Notably, this is where Braden made the astounding discovery of a Bay-breasted Warbler two years ago—one of just a handful of sightings ever recorded from western Montana.

Although Browns (sic) Lake is frozen for a good part of the year, it has never disappointed us as a birding destination and we were eager to see what it held so early in the spring.

One challenge with Browns Lake is that it stays frozen until relatively late in the season and I noticed on eBird that no one had yet birded it this year. I wasn’t sure if it had begun to thaw, but I asked Susan if she was game to check it out. She was—and even brought along yummy fried egg and cheese bagels to fuel our adventures.

On the drive up Highway 200, we were rewarded by two pairs of Sandhill Cranes and a glimpse of a Mountain Bluebird—perhaps a preview of things to come? We hoped so, and upon arriving at Browns Lake, were not disappointed. Right near where Braden had discovered the Bay-breasted Warbler, we got out of the car to find a delightful “finchy” mixed flock containing Red Crossbills, Pine Siskins, Evening Grosbeaks, and Cassin’s Finches.

We’re not sure why (though fish and/or animal carcasses probably have something to do with it), but Browns Lake often boasts vigorous Bald Eagle activity—and our early spring visit was no exception. Here, two youngsters contemplate the meaning of ice on this brisk sunny day.

As the lake came into view, we were relieved to see at least a third of it offered open water—and that the waterfowl were not shy about taking advantage! Within twenty minutes, we recorded fifteen species of ducks and geese, including the year’s first Montana Northern Pintails and a lone FOY Cinnamon Teal. A flock of 18-20 Snow Geese erupted out of the fields on the far side of the lake and settled in beneath a huge irrigation line. Even though a brisk wind dropped the wind chill into the teens, we looked hard through our scope for any Ross’s Geese, but came up empty.

Elk anyone? Even though they are mere mammals, this herd against the dramatic background induced us to pull over for an admiring look.

As has become my new routine, I directed Susan out the far side of the lake toward the Ovando-Helmville dirt road, and we were rewarded by two Northern Shrikes (Susan is certain they were separate birds), and a couple more Mountain Bluebirds. After turning left toward Helmville, we hadn’t gone a mile when we saw a sizeable flock of birds badly backlit by the sun.

“Are they some kind of blackbirds?” Susan wondered, and they did look black because of the sun, but I didn’t know. Then, she said, “There are more bluebirds over here.” “There’s a couple over here, too,” I added, still thinking they had nothing to do with the flock we’d just seen.

The bottom line? The flock we had just observed consisted entirely of Mountain Bluebirds!

At first, we weren’t sure what these flocking birds might be, backlit against the sun, but this photo reveals the truth.

This blew both Susan and I away. Neither of us had ever seen more than three or four Mountain Bluebirds at a time, and had no inkling that they ever formed large flocks. Yet here was the evidence in front of us, and we spent a good fifteen minutes watching them forage and swirl around us. Once, a group of at least sixty took to the sky together, only to settle back into the grass a few moments later. Meanwhile, others kept crossing the road in front and back of us, occasionally landing on the fence next to our car.

The Mountain Bluebirds were so active around us that I dared not hope to get a photo of one—until this guy perched 15 feet away from the car window!

We finally pulled ourselves away, wondering if local ranchers observed this kind of grouping every year. I later read up on MOBLs and found one or two mentions of them forming flocks in winter, but it didn’t seem like a well-known phenomenon. Susan and I both agreed that these cavity-nesting birds must be migrating. From here would they spread out into the surrounding mountains? Or did they still have a long way to go before trying to find their own breeding territories? As biologist Dick Hutto had taught me, Mountain Bluebirds especially love recent burn areas where woodpeckers carve out plenty of “condos” in the dead trees (see my book Fire Birds: Valuing Natural Wildfires and Burned Forests). I wondered if, as a flock, they might be better at finding recent burn areas—or did flocking impart other benefits such as greater predator or food detection?

After the Browns Lake area, we headed toward Helena, hoping to find a recently reported Lesser Black-backed Gull. Though I’d seen this species in Israel and again in Oregon, this would be a Montana lifer for me and an outright lifer for Susan.

It was not to be.

At the Helena Regulating Reservoir, we saw plenty of gulls, but many were too far away for our scope, and the ones we did see did not have the dark wings we were looking for. The trip wasn’t a waste, however, as we observed more than sixty Common Mergansers and at least ten Red-breasted Mergansers, also clearly in migration. In fact, the window to see RBMEs is quite tight in Montana, so it was nice to pick them up for 2026.

Though we missed the Lesser Black-backed Gull, the Helena Regulating Reservoir was hosting a “regulating” merganser-pa-looza!

Speaking of 2026, both Braden and I have excellent chances to accidentally break our world Big Year records. My record, set last year, is 552, and only a quarter of the way into this year, I’m at 422. This is not as much of a gimme as it sounds since many of the birds I’ve seen in Costa Rica and California are birds I would normally check off in Montana, but with a little luck and persistence, I feel I will get there. Braden’s record, meanwhile, is 867 and he is already at 546, with hopes to bird abroad at least one more time this year. We no longer put a lot of stock into numbers like these, but they’re a fun thing to keep an eye on.

After saying goodbye to the Helena Regulating Reservoir, Susan and I did a little more birding and then got lunch in downtown Helena. I only mention it because we ate at an excellent little crepe place called—what else?—The Creperie. It featured outstanding food and reasonable prices. It’s open until 3 p.m. most days and is located right next to the lower entrance of the walking part of Last Chance Gulch. If you’ve got the post-birding munchies, check it out!

Our first-of-the-year Browns Lake checklist: https://ebird.org/checklist/S313329879

Costa Rica’s La Angostura Florencia Wetlands: Turning Disappointment into Delight

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Today, we wrap up our 2026 Costa Rican adventure with a post from Braden. Our nine-day trip was filled with incredible birds—and a share of setbacks caused by unexpected weather and road closures. In fact, circumstances prevented us from visiting our major final destination, El Copal (see Braden’s 2024 post). That disappointment, however, turned into great good fortune. Why? Because it redirected us to what would become one of our favorite birding locations of the trip.

My dad and I woke to the sound of a Barred Antshrike singing outside our Airbnb. After packing our stuff and stepping outside into the bright, clear morning, we realized that there were two antshrikes, one singing from each side of us. It took little prompting for both the male and the female to come in, giving us the best looks at the species so far on our trip and knocking off another target from my dad’s list. The antshrikes, along with several cooperative White-eared Ground-sparrows on the lawn of the property and the steady flyovers of parrots and oropendolas, started our day off strong.

Great looks at White-eared Ground-Sparrows and both male and female Barred Antshrikes helped kickstart our fabulous final day of Costa Rican birding.
Male Barred Antshrike

We’d been so successful with our target birds on the trip that our plans for this morning were simple: bird somewhere not too far out of the way back to San Jose, and spend one last morning enjoying Costa Rica’s birds. The night before, we’d decided on a nearby wetland called La Angostura Florencia, where the wide open habitat would render the birds easier to see than in the dense, rainforests we’d spent the last few days. 

Disruption of our plans helped us discover several great new CR birding locations, including Tranki Garden near Turrialba. Here, the proprietor David has been creating a great new birding hotspot where we got our lifer Ochre-bellied Flycatcher!
Black-cowled Oriole at Tranki!

So far, during the trip, we’d had pretty bad luck with just looking at eBird hotspots and trying to bird them. Some hotspots were closed, and we had caught David, the manager of Tranki Garden, off guard by showing up without calling ahead of time. One place we’d gone to was just completely private property (which we hadn’t known ahead of time), and the owner asked us to leave. La Angostura Florencia wetlands, however, was great—no locked gates, no private property signs, just a public, protected wetland nestled into the foothills of the Talamancas. As soon as we pulled onto the dirt road leading towards the water, we started spotting things.

As La Angostura Florencia rolled into view, we immediately became excited by its birding potential—potential that would be fully realized!

The first sighting of the day was our most unexpected. We stopped to scan a little creek, and my dad spotted a Black-crowned Night-Heron lurking on a rock. As I stepped out of the car to look, movement caught my eye—a large, brown mammal trotting through the forest on the other side of the road. As it grew closer to us, I realized this wasn’t a coati (which is a fairly common mammal across most parts of Costa Rica) but a tayra! Tayras are large members of the mustelid group (the group of mammals that includes weasels, otters and martens) and I’d never seen one before, despite all the time I’d spent in Costa Rica. We turned our attention towards the tayra as it scaled a tree and disappeared into the foliage above. Despite the mosquitos moving in on us from all sides, the day was off to a great start!

Though we’d seen a Green Ibis earlier on the trip, this pair at La Angostura Florencia gave us our first close, leisurely looks. Unlike other ibises, the Green Ibis prefers swampy or flooded forests to wide-open wetlands.

We kept driving slowly, rounding a corner and flushing a bird up from the road. “Sunbittern!” my dad yelled as it escaped into the trees. We got out again in an attempt to relocate it, but couldn’t get eyes on it again. Fortunately, there were tons of other birds around, calling, singing and foraging in the trees above and around us. We slowly made our way down the road, identifying warblers and other neotropical migrants above our heads as a variety of species gave us great, eye-level views. The dawn chorus consisted mostly of flycatchers, but we did hear a Thicket Antpitta singing from the shrubby, overgrown edge of the road!

As the wetlands came into view, we again got out and walked towards them, sidestepping a massive mud puddle in front of us. Two Green Ibises croaked from a Cecropia tree a dozen meters away, and we stopped to watch a Gray-headed Kite, our second of the trip, hunting and soaring over us. The heads of waders and waterfowl kept popping up from the grassy marsh in front of us, and we identified them one at a time.

We got wonderful views of this Gray-headed Kite both perched and in flight—one of our best raptor experiences of the trip.

“Snowy Egret!”

“Black-bellied Whistling-Duck!”

“Purple Gallinule!”

“Ooh, that one’s a Limpkin!”

While many of the wetland birds were the same as the birds we’d seen at Caño Negro, seeing them in a new location felt satisfying. Costa Rica isn’t known for its extensive wetlands, but the presence of these birds at La Angostura Florencia meant that at least several populations of these species could be found in abundance in the country. We spotted some fun songbirds in the shrubs on the border of the wetland, too. Both Olive-crowned and Gray-crowned Yellowthroats sang from the grass, and a Slaty Spinetail rattled off from a bush near the road. 

Olive-crowned Yellowthroat

Near the center of the wetland, the grass gave way to a large river. On a sandbar in the river stood a Wood Stork alongside a couple of egrets, and a Muscovy Duck floated by with a horde of babies in tow. From one overlook, my dad and I got both Ringed and Amazon Kingfishers while White-throated Crakes sounded off in the tall grass. 

As we reached the end of the road, a flash of movement and tail feathers caught our eye. A small, gray raptor had launched out of trees, just missing what we assumed to be a Squirrel Cuckoo as it dove for the cover of the grass. The raptor landed on a low bough in front of us, and as I raised my binoculars, I realized that it was not the Gray Hawk I’d assumed it to be. No, this was an accipiter, slate gray, with a dark cap, yellow eyes and rufous legs.

“That’s a Bicolored Hawk!” I yelled, probably too loudly, though the bird seemed unperturbed.

One of our best raptors of the trip, Bicolored Hawk was a bird I had longed to see since first coming to Costa Rica two years earlier.

Literally two days ago, after seeing a Black Hawk-Eagle, I had been texting my friend Drew about the raptors I had yet to see in Costa Rica. Raptors are some of the coolest, and most difficult, birds in the neotropics. They’re hard to target and show up seemingly at random. Over the months I’ve spent birding in Central America, I’d slowly accumulated most of the uncommon raptors in the region—White Hawk, Ornate and Black Hawk-Eagle, Barred Hawk, various kites and falcons. But the few that I’d never seen before are not only elusive but quite rare, and the two I wanted most were some of the rarest: Bicolored and Tiny Hawks. Both of these species are widespread across Latin America but very infrequently reported, and while I’d been looking for spots to search for both (especially Bicolored) as my dad and I had journeyed across the country, I’d just had to admit to myself that nowhere were these species reliable. By this last day of the trip, in fact, I’d given up on seeing them.

“You lookin’ at me? I’m lookin’ at you, Braden!”

But suddenly, there was an adult Bicolored, taking in the sunlight, fifty feet away. My brain went into shock as my dad and I stared at it and snapped pictures. It felt like seeing a ghost. After about five minutes, the ghost flew away, leaving its vivid image seared into my memory forever.

My dad and I high-fived, then turned around, not quite believing our luck. And our luck continued.

On the way back down the road, we ran into a trio of birders—two from Great Britain and their guide—who had just spotted a Great Potoo a couple hundred meters away. They wanted to scope the wetlands for Snail Kites first, but said they would walk back to show us where the potoo was afterwards. We forged on ahead, hoping to find the roosting nocturnal bird by ourselves. As we passed a gap in the trees, I spotted exactly what the other birders had been looking for—a single Snail Kite soaring over the marsh. This location was known for the species, and it was only my second sighting of one ever, after the ones I’d gotten to see with Nick in Florida in 2022. (See THIS POST.)

As much as we’d been looking forward to seeing one, we had to admit that our first ever “potoo lump” er, huh, lacked in excitement.

We kept walking, my dad taking the lead, when a small, yellow and white flash caught my eye. I snapped my fingers, alerting my dad to walk back towards me. There, in the shade on the side of the road, perched a White-collared Manakin. My dad had been trying to get good looks at manakins during the whole trip, but they had been incredibly uncooperative. I’d spotted a White-ruffed while he was in the restaurant at Arenal, and we’d spent hours trying to get good looks at Long-tailed a few days before. And now, here was my favorite of the bunch, a spectacular male White-collared, sitting and posing right in front of us. Between the manakin, the Bicolored Hawk and the antshrike this morning, it felt as if the trip had come completely full circle.

This great look at a White-collared Manakin finally ended a string of frustrating close calls my dad had experienced trying to get a good look at one.

To make things even better, the British birders returned and showed us where the Great Potoo was! It was a little underwhelming, given that the bird was far away and completely still, but a lifer’s a lifer! We finished the morning with around 95 species, far exceeding my expectations for the wetland and wrapping up our phenomenal Costa Rica expedition.

Link to our Costa Rica eBird Trip Report: https://ebird.org/tripreport/482094

If you enjoyed this post, here are links to the previous Costa Rica posts in this Series:

Birding Costa Rica—Beginning at the Airport

Arenal for Antbirds

Caño Negro: Costa Rica’s Epic Wetland

A final selfie on what turned out to be one our best birding outings of the trip.

Caño Negro: Costa Rica’s Epic Wetland (Birding Costa Rica, Part 3)

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When blogging about a birding trip to Costa Rica, it’s almost impossible to choose which things to cover. As anyone who’s been there knows, every day offers avian delights, whether you’re walking through rainforest or hanging out in a town or city. One place we simply cannot overlook, however, is Caño Negro Wildlife Refuge.

The lagoon area of Cano Negro, at high water because of recent rains.

Caño Negro is one of Costa Rica’s rare, large interior freshwater wetland areas and lies almost within sight of the Nicaraguan border. I had never heard of it until Braden sang its praises when he studied abroad down there two years ago. As he planned our itinerary for this year’s trip, he left no doubt it was a must-see destination. To reach it, we left the La Fortuna area (see our post Arenal for Antbirds) and drove an hour and a half up highway 35 through flat agricultural country, before turning west on the access road to the refuge.

Seeing such large numbers of Northern Jacanas was a first for me!

The access road is one of those tricks perpetuated with great amusement on tourists. Paved for its first few miles, it suddenly degenerates into a cratered track that reduces the speed of rational drivers to about 10 km/hour. Nonetheless, this road is not to be endured, but to be birded. Along its stretch are a rich variety of grasslands, mini-wetlands, and patches of trees that are loaded with birds. I was thrilled to see my first Northern Jacanas and Purple Gallinules of the trip, but these were quickly overshadowed by the Variable and Morelet’s Seedeaters (see our post Chasing Morelet’s Seedeaters), and Thick-billed and Nicaraguan Seed-Finches. The highlight of the drive was a brief, but spectacular view of yet another lifer for Braden—a Black-collared Hawk!

These overcompensating “giant-billed” Nicaraguan Seed-Finches are a specialty of the northeast part of Costa Rica.

The next morning, we eagerly met our guide, Chambita, and his boat driver/assistant, Yalvin, at one of the town boat docks. Because of the heavy unseasonable rains, the Rio Frio was running higher than usual, but still flowed along at a placid pace perfect for birding. Most birding boat tours have two components—the river itself and a lagoon that feeds into it. From Braden’s past comments, I was most excited about the lagoon, but the river relentlessly amazed us.

Chambita and Braden proved a dynamic duo in detecting Caño Negro’s astonishing bird life.

As we began slowly making our way downstream, I was thrilled to see both new and familiar species. Over the first hour, the kingfishers stole the show, as we saw five of Costa Rica’s six kingfisher species, missing only the most common one—our own Belted Kingfisher that we enjoy back home. The ones we saw included both the big bruiser Ringed Kingfishers and the two that are hardest to find: Green-and-Rufous Kingfisher and American Pygmy Kingfisher.

I’m a sucker for kingfishers and was ecstatic at seeing FIVE species, including this American Pygmy Kingfisher.

Chambita, though, quickly demonstrated why he is a local legend among expert birders by calling out dozens of other bird songs and calls, many of them flycatchers that I had no hope of recognizing, but that Braden raptly absorbed. Then, we spotted a species Braden most hoped to see—Snowy Cotingas.

I’ll just say it: Cotingas are bizarre. And I’m not alone in thinking so. Birds of the World remarks, “No family of birds exhibits more diversity of auditory, behavioral, and plumage elaborations, all the result of rampant sexual selection, than do the cotingas.”

We saw five Snowy Cotingas on our outing—an unusually high number that pretty much made Braden’s entire day.

I actually didn’t think I’d ever seen a cotinga until Braden informed me that two of Latin America’s most spectacular birds, the Andean Cock-of-the-Rock and Three-wattled Bellbird, are cotingas. Even then, I only started getting interested in them as a group when mi amigo Roger and I saw Black-tipped Cotingas last year in Colombia, inspiring a spate of jealousy from Braden.

Today, when we saw the Snowy Cotingas, I had to restrain Braden from jumping out of the boat. “I wanted to see them,” he gushed, “but I didn’t think we would!” That, of course, got me super excited about them, too—delicate white birds perched atop trees high above the river.

Though not rare, Sungrebes can be shy and difficult to find, so we felt lucky to see one. The birds are actually more closely related to rails than grebes.

The river offered many other treasures including a rare Sungrebe, eight species of warblers, three kinds of orioles, and four kinds each of woodpeckers and parrots. Oh, and caimans and monkeys, too. And that’s before we turned around and went to the lagoon.

A troop of Squirrel Monkeys provided us with a welcome bonus as they fearlessly leaped a twenty-foot gap between trees. Look closely and you can see a baby on this one’s back! Talk about Livin’ on a Prayer!

When we reached it, the lagoon presented a totally different view than Braden had previously experienced. On his past visits, the water had been relatively low, i.e. perfect for wading birds. Recent rains, however, had raised the water dramatically. We still found a great diversity of birds, but numbers were lower than usual.

Ever since seeing a Fasciated Tiger-Heron with Roger in Colombia last year, I have been in love with tiger-herons, and this was my first chance to get good looks at Bare-throated Tiger-Herons!

Still, all manner of wading birds presented themselves. My favorites were Bare-throated Tiger-Herons and the uber-strange Boat-billed Herons. It was a tough call, though, with Tricolored Herons, a Roseate Spoonbill, Little Blue Herons, Green Herons, and three kinds of ibises—Glossy, White-faced, and Green—all competing for our attention.

A yawning Boat-Billed Heron is a bird after my own heart. Not only is it one of the coolest birds in Costa Rica, it needs its afternoon nap, just like moi!

A special treat for both Braden and me was getting to see our first Lesser Yellow-headed Vulture, which Chambita identified from a distance as it swooped down low over the lagoon and passed within a couple hundred yards of our boat. Resembling a Turkey Vulture—and sharing many of its characteristics—the Lesser Yellow-headed’s yellow head became visible only as it approached more closely. I love vultures.

This intriguing Lesser Yellow-headed Vulture was a special first for both Braden and me.

As we continued to explore, many more species kept showing up including a couple of Wood Storks, a Greater Yellowlegs, and both Crested and Yellow-headed Caracaras.

Roger and I had seen a Yellow-headed Caracara leap up onto a cow last year in Colombia, but this guy gave Braden and me an even better show.

A couple more of our favorite finds were a pair of Yellow-tailed Orioles and a Black-headed Trogon, all of which offered close up incredible looks.

We finished up our boat tour with classic looks at both Yellow-tailed Orioles and . . .
a Black-headed Trogon.

We were happy that Chambita and Yalvin seemed as excited by the day as we were. They spent far more time with us than was strictly necessary and you can bet we appreciated it.

After bidding them farewell, we headed back out the same cratered road we came in on and were rewarded as richly as on the day before. On the drive, we paused to enjoy Green Kingfishers, Common Tody-Flycatchers, a Fork-tailed Flycatcher, and the perfect capstone to the day—our lifer Red-breasted Meadowlarks! We ended the day with more than 130 species, one of our best days of birding ever. Pura Vida!

Our Caño Negro checklist: https://ebird.org/checklist/S303336007

I was especially thrilled to see a Red-breasted Meadowlark after recently reading that the similar-looking South American Pampas Meadowlark is critically endangered. Loss of grassland habitat and rampant use of pesticides has drastically reduced populations of many meadowlark species, including those found in the US.

To arrange a trip with Chambita, check out his Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100047210666376.