Category Archives: Israel

Sentinels, or “How Bird Flu Really Got Cookin’” (FSB Book Review)

As we enter the holiday season, we find ourselves with a bit less time to blog. Braden is staying busy teaching birding classes, writing for Montana Outdoors and BWD magazines, and birding like crazy. I have also stayed busy pursuing a new college degree, finishing up editing my 2027 book Birding the Great Wide Open, and squeezing in birding whenever I can. Today, though, we present a review of what may be one of the most important books I’ve read in recent years. It’s one I hope you will pick up for yourself or other birders in your life as it has huge implications for the future of birds—and humans. Enjoy!

On New Year’s Eve, 2019, Braden and I visited a refuge called the Hula Valley Nature Reserve in northern Israel (see Braden’s post Winter Birding in Israel, Part II: Valley of the Cranes). Though small by some standards, the reserve holds a remarkable diversity of bird life. Riding around in golf carts under cool, damp skies, we observed 44 species including Pied Avocets, Ruffs, and both Booted and Greater Spotted Eagles. The marquee birds, the ones that attract thousands of visitors each year, were thousands of Common Cranes. In fields surrounding the reserve, we counted more than 2,000 of them—but no doubt missed many more.

In 2019, Braden and I were lucky enough to visit Israel’s fabulous Hula Valley Nature Reserve, where we saw more than 2,000 Common Cranes. Only the following year, the H5N1 bird flu virus swept through the reserve, killing more than 8,000 cranes along with many other birds.

Strikingly, our visit intersected with two important global events. Even as we stood watching the cranes, the COVID-19 virus was silently making its way out of China, poised to ravage the rest of the world. Braden and I, in fact, barely made it home before commercial air traffic ground to a halt.

The second event happened the following year, in 2021, when a virus known as H5N1 exploded across the planet. This virus killed untold millions of wild birds and other animals, including many threatened and endangered species. In northern Israel alone, H5N1 killed 8,000 Common Cranes in the Hula Valley, along with 1.6 million chickens and turkeys in commercial poultry facilities. In his new book Sentinels: When Diseases Spread Between Animals and Humans (Scribe Publications, 2026), author Michael Dulaney writes, “Of all the pathogens I’ve learned about this (H5N1) is the big one . . . It scares me more than anything else.” After reading his book, you may feel the same.

But let us back up a step.

In Sentinels, Delaney focuses on several kinds of diseases, including fungal diseases spread by the wildlife trade and, especially in the case of Valley Fever, our increased contact with and destruction of the environment. He also explores Trench Fever, a louse-borne disease made famous during World War I that is now re-emerging among destitute, unhoused populations around the world. However, Sentinels especially focuses on zoonotic diseases, those that spread between animals and people.

**Raptors have been hit especially hard by HPAI—Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza. It remains to be seen how well populations will recover. (Eurasian Kestral shown.)**

Lest you think this is a niche topic, according to the CDC, three out of four new diseases in humans originate in animals. They include some of the world’s deadliest: Ebola, coronaviruses such as COVID-19, and H5N1. And if you haven’t already been convinced, the author presents overwhelming evidence that these kinds of diseases represent a significant, global threat to humanity.

As we all have witnessed in recent years, many zoonotic viruses cause human illness and death. However, while popular coverage of zoonotic diseases almost exclusively focuses on wild animals as a threat and source of illness, Sentinels makes clear that the underlying threat isn’t the animals—it is humanity’s rapid destruction of the environment and quest for economic expediency.

Let’s take a look at bird flu.

H5N1 is but one of several types of “bird flu” viruses that health authorities lump together under the name Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza, or HPAI. In his chapter titled “Henfluenza: Bird Flu”, Dulaney explains that H5N1 first emerged in the poultry industry of Southeast Asia in 1996. Since then, many outbreaks have been reported, often killing 100% of affected chickens and other poultry. In some cases, the disease has jumped to humans with deadly results. But in 2021 a new strain leaped from the poultry industry to wild birds, and those birds quickly carried it around the globe. One of the big surprises of this new strain is how, in addition to birds, it infected a wide array of mammal species including cats, foxes, polar bears, and other marine mammals. In Argentina, it killed tens of thousands of elephant seals, a blow from which the species may never recover. Nothing like that had happened in previous outbreaks.

HPAI’s toll on wild birds, though, has been particularly devastating. No one really has any idea of how many wild birds have died as a result of H5N1 and other bird flu viruses, but they have infected at least 500 different bird species and killed millions of birds. More than half of species affected had never before been hit by this group of viruses, and some bird species experienced die-offs that may have long-term consequences for their survival. In just one recent five month span, from September 2025 to January 2026, the US Geological Survey recorded 241 “bird mortality events” in 28 states, killing 126,000 wild birds. In 123 of these events, HPAI was confirmed or suspected as the cause. At the Great Salt Lake, more than 50,000 Eared Grebes died, twice the number of deaths from a similar outbreak the previous year. The USGS reported that this was the fourth year in a row avian influenza had been rampaging through wild bird populations.

We were lucky to visit the Hula reserve with some of our longtime friends, including biologist Avi Lourie (far right), who was a close friend of my late father (Braden’s grandfather). Little did we know how viruses were about to change the lives of both humans and wildlife.

As bird flu continues to circulate around the globe, it continues to devastate both wild and domestic bird populations. It also keeps jumping to humans. According to the CDC website, 72 cases and two deaths in the US have been reported since 2024. But while news outlets and official government websites continue to portray the risks to human health and domestic animals posed by wild birds, they utterly fail to address the underlying causes of bird flu and other zoonotic diseases.

Which is why Sentinels is such an important book. After reading it, you will have no doubt that it is our own actions that facilitate the mutation and spread of zoonotic diseases. Some are facilitated by the destruction of natural habitats, forcing animals into closer proximity to humans. The root cause of bird flu is the manner in which we raise animals for human consumption. While H5N1 once originated in wild bird populations, its ability to jump to other species was most likely severely limited. Factory farming, on the other hand, has been a virus’s dream come true.

In the US alone, 9.4 billion broiler chickens were “produced” in 2025. Egg-laying chickens cranked out 105 billion eggs. The vast majority of these chickens are grown in enormous, cramped facilities, where tens or even hundreds of thousands of birds are packed together in a single building. Chicken production in China dwarfs even these figures, with one facility supposedly containing three million chickens at any given time.

Although farmers and corporations strive to eliminate HPAI viruses, they are now so prevalant that they find their way into industrial, small scale, and backyard farms with shocking frequency. One recent update from the USDA recorded that in just the most recent 30 days, there had been 23 outbreaks affecting 1.25 million birds. Since February 8, 2022, the virus had infected 210 million birds in 2,285 flocks in all fifty states and one territory.

What happens to all of those birds? As you might guess, as soon as a virus is detected, the entire flock is destroyed, and the facility placed under quarantine. In other words, hundreds of millions of chickens, turkeys, and other domestic animals are killed and disposed of each year because of HPAI viruses. Amazingly, the poultry industry can easily absorb this waste while still making vast profits. According to the USDA, in 2025 the combined value of poultry sales, including eggs, was 70.3 billion dollars.

If enough of us change our own food shopping habits and begin applying pressure to our politicians to enforce a more humane, less dangerous industrial meat industry, humans may have a chance to prevent future pandemics caused by zoonotic viruses.

The main point of this is that within these high-density facilities, viruses can and do mutate at lightning speed. With increasing frequency and impact, they also spill over into wild populations of birds and other animals. That means that even if a wild bird species or population adapts to one strain, it is likely—perhaps inevitable—that another, even more virulent strain will come along. This, in fact, is what has been happening, and we may just be seeing the beginning of global pandemics that threaten entire species of birds and mammals, including humans.

Sentinels is a pretty terrifying read because there are no simple fixes to the problems that it highlights, many of which also are exacerbated by climate change. “This puts any writer on this subject in a tough position,” the author laments. “Most people, we are told, want to read good news.” His message, though, is clear: If we want to reduce the risk of zoonotic diseases, we have to do a much better job protecting the environment. We especially need to change the way we produce food. Is this likely? It’s hard to see how, and the author offers few suggestions. I do know that the book has compelled me to redouble my efforts to source food from farms and farmers that place quality, animal welfare, and human health at a greater premium. If enough people read Sentinels and act on its message, it may help turn the wheel toward a healthier future for both birds and humans.

To order Sentinels, CLICK HERE.

Robin Smackdown: Old World versus New

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At any time of year, but during the holidays especially, new birders are likely to become confused by some of the birds they see on cards, calendars—even in animations. Don’t beat yourself up. The reason for your confusion is simple: many creative types (including those who aren’t birders) often pay scant attention to what a bird is or where it actually comes from. Artists especially, when they decide to make a bird painting or land a contract for bird art, cruise the internet for photos of birds. “Hey, I like that one!” they may say, not realizing that the bird has no relation to their intended audiences.

Just recently, in fact, Amy and I were wandering around a wonderful art walk night in Billings and stopped in at one place to admire the work of a new artist. Amy noticed some bird cards, and we bought a few. What was on them? A European species! I asked the artist if she knew she had painted a European bird, and she said, “No. I just liked how it looked.”

**Can you name this bird? It’s not a North American species—but you will find it on plenty of cards, calendars—even in some popular movies.**

In my experience, the most common occurrence of this kind of thing happens with Old World and New World robins. Look at the bird above. What do you see? If you answer “robin”, you are correct—but it’s not the robin we see here in North America. The bird above is a European Robin—in other words, the original robin. The robin we have here is the American Robin. What’s more, the two are only distantly related. European Robins belong to the family Muscicapidae, a group consisting primarily of Old World Flycatchers. American Robins belong to the family—don’t laugh—Turdidae, or thrushes. So how did these birds come to share the name “robin”?

How else? Colonial imperialism.

**According to a 2011 segment of BirdNote, early English birders once dubbed the Baltimore Oriole the Golden Robin, though it has little relation to either the European or American Robin.**

I won’t try to prove this, but it seems that the English were the original birdwatchers, and they carried their passion with them to the vast territories that they subjugated, usually without their owners’ permissions. In fact, the English pretty much disregarded the original occupants of a place along with any native knowledge of animals these occupants might possess. As a result, Brits gleefully conferred new names on most of the strange and interesting animals they encountered. Often these new names were actually old names that the English were already familiar with—including the name Robin, aka Robin Redbreast.

According to the delightful BirdNote episode titled, “How the Robin Got Its Name,” the English went a little buck wild with the name Robin. They called towhees Ground Robins. They dubbed the Baltimore Oriole the Golden Robin. If you compare the photo of the European Robin at the top with the photo below, it’s not hard to figure out how the American Robin got its name, either. But while chances are good that most American birders have come to appreciate American Robins, I’m guessing many of us haven’t encountered its etymological ancestor.

**We can thank early British twitchers for bestowing the name “robin” on perhaps our most colorful THRUSH, the American Robin.**

Both Braden and I have had the good fortune to see European Robins several times in the past few years, and I must tell you, they are delightful—if somewhat shy—birds. The first time was in Amsterdam’s Vondelpark, which we birded during a long layover on our way to Israel. Sure enough, in Israel we also saw “EUROs” several times. Most recently, Amy and I enjoyed seeing European Robins in Barcelona (see our post “Birding Barcelona, Part 1: The Urban Core.”).

**A European Robin scraping for invertebrates in Barcelona’s most central urban park, Parc Ciutadella.**

I always take special delight in seeing this bird, perhaps because of its name, but also because it is every bit as beautiful as our American Robin. As mentioned above, the European Robin belongs to the Old World Flycatcher family, and I have seen them perched—presumably waiting to snag an insect out of the air. Like many other birds in its family, however, the European Robin seems more of a ground forager. Most recently, in Barcelona’s Ciutadella Park, I watched them scraping through dead leaves for invertebrates. Only a few days later, we watched one boldly perched above a pond in the botanical gardens.

Even though they aren’t closely related, AMROs and EUROs share a lot in common. Both live exclusively in the northern hemisphere, and are one of the most common land birds on their respective continents. And while they are year-round residents in large parts of their ranges, they also have distinctly migratory populations. They also both love to gorge themselves on insects, worms, and other hapless, creatures without backbones—but neither turns down fruit and seeds when the right opportunities arise.

American Robin perched in our burr oak tree.

Our defiantly anti-imperial bent may lead some American birders to proclaim that our robin is the superior bird. After all, it’s bigger and has a bolder red breast, but making such a claim is downright silly. Both birds are worthy of admiration and provide a terrific opportunity to further our birding educations. Best of all, as we travel North America, Europe, the Middle East, or north Africa, it is likely that we will always have one of these lovely creatures to greet us!

Winter Birding in Israel, Part III: Eilat and the Red Sea

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Our condolences to all those affected by the coronavirus—including those forced to cancel their well-earned vacations. We offer some small consolation by traveling to southern Israel to explore amazing birds of the desert and Red Sea. Enjoy, and don’t forget to share this with your birding buddies. Next week: Wadi Rum and Petra.

After our fabulous day in the Hula Valley, I rewarded myself by—you guessed it—catching the flu. Really. Not my first choice, but after a day in bed, Braden and I continued as planned and headed to Jerusalem for three days. The highlights were seeing a Eurasian Hoopoe on the walls of the Old City and grabbing a new Life Bird, Tristram’s Starling, literally on the Western Wall. Then, mostly recovered from my illness, we headed to more fertile birding territory: Eilat and the Red Sea.

**The International Birding and Research Center (to the left of the closer salt ponds) and nearby Holland Park offer welcome relief to the hustle and bustle of Eilat.**

For those who don’t know it, Eilat is on a major flyway between Africa and Asia and Europe. Some estimates place the number of birds flying through at half a billion per year, and it is especially known for raptor migration. Alas, Braden and I were not visiting during migration, but we still hoped to see some new and cool species. Our first full day there, we caught a cab to the International Birding and Research Center just north of town. The center is on the site of the former city dump and located next to expansive ponds used for salt manufacture. Since 1993, however, the sanctuary has been aggressively rehabilitating the site—something that was still very much in progress when we arrived.

**Without a doubt one of our trip’s most spectacular birds, the Green Bee-eater had perched firmly atop our Must See bird list.**

In short order we were rewarded with a double-handful of Life Birds, including Common Ringed Plover, a pair of Common Greenshanks, Blackstarts, Bluethroats, a Green Bee-eater, Marsh Sandpiper, Rock Martin, House Crow, Long-legged Buzzard, and Braden’s Bird of the Day, a Great Gray Shrike! As a bonus, four Greater Flamingos lounged in a salt pond in the distance.

While there, one of the center’s guides confidentially told us that even better birding might be had at a place called Holland Park, a short mile or so walk away. Braden and I set off through the desert—only to end up at a kibbutz nowhere near the park! Some nice kibbutzniks straightened us out, so we resumed our hot march south along the highway. And that turned out to be a great thing because right next to the road, we spotted our only Hooded Wheatears of the trip.

**This Hooded Wheatear introduced us to a totally new group of delightful birds that we’d only been vaguely aware of before the trip.**

Holland Park. What can I say? I think this may be my favorite birding location of the entire trip. Hiking up a dry wadi filled with interesting native plants, Braden and I quickly left the bustle of Eilat behind and felt like we were in authentic habitat. We found only two additional Lifers—Sand Partridge and Mourning Wheatear—but the Blackstarts, Palestinian Sunbirds, Sardinian Warblers and other birds kept us plenty entertained. And our day’s birding hadn’t quite finished.

Israel’s extensive development of its tiny Red Sea shoreline doesn’t leave much room for wildlife, but these shorebirds found refuge behind a fence in a shipping yard. Center are two Common Ringed Plovers. Lower and Upper Left are Kentish Plovers, with Little Stints in between.

That afternoon, Braden cajoled me into taking a walk from our hotel along the Red Sea so that we could look for White-eyed Gulls. We found them, but also happened upon a huge group of Kentish and Common Ringed Plovers, Little Stints, and Dunlins huddled down against a stiff afternoon wind blowing up from Egypt and Saudi Arabia. All in all, it was an amazing day of birding—and far from the last of our trip.

All photos and text on FatherSonBirding.com are strictly protected under U.S. copyright law. To request permission to use, contact Sneed at sbcollardiii+2@gmail.com.

Winter Birding in Israel, Part II: Valley of the Cranes

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This week, enjoy Braden’s Part II of an Undetermined Series of Posts about our recent birding adventures in Israel and Jordan!

Over the next few days, our host family showed us around Northern Israel. We explored Akko, a seaside town with a great market full of delicious Arab and Jewish food and tall, Crusader-era walls. In Haifa, we took a drive around Mount Carmel and dined on amazing pizza and fantastic pistachio ice cream. My dad and I even spotted a Eurasian Griffon soaring over a residential area, a rare species of vulture that nested in the Carmel range.

**A lone Eurasian Spoonbill enjoys refuge in the Hula Valley Nature Reserve, once part of a vast wetlands that covered much of north-central Israel.**

After sightseeing, though, we were ready to do some serious birding. One day, my dad, one of our friends named Noam and I hopped on the train to Haifa (spotting flamingos feeding in salt ponds on the way), where we were picked up by our host’s brother Barak and father Avi. We headed north, stopping only to grab a snack at a roadside falafel & humus stand overlooking the vast Sea of Galilee and its nearby canyons and mosques. Soon, though, we left the mountains, driving past agricultural fields filled with Common Cranes. Eventually we arrived at the Hula Valley Nature Reserve, and were greeted by a large, modern visitor center. The best way to sightsee the refuge was to rent a golf cart, and that we did, setting off around a lake at Formula 1 speeds—about 10 miles per hour. We were soon greeted by hundreds of cranes, as well as various tactics that farmers used to prevent the birds from eating their crops. Every few minutes a gunshot, firework or horn would echo across the landscape (the birds were protected, don’t worry), and we even glimpsed a few people chasing the huge flocks.

**In the Hula, we got our first great look of the trip at what would prove to be one of our Top Five favorite Israeli birds—the White-throated Kingfisher.**

Before reaching the main lake, we stopped at a forested spot and were immediately astonished to see not one, but two birds that we’d been hoping to see: a White-throated Kingfisher and a Eurasian Hoopoe! The large kingfisher showed off its azure wings as it scanned the ground for rodents, while the hoopoe foraged quietly like a flicker, probably looking for ants. Spur-winged Lapwings, birds with sharp patterns of black and white on their wings, stood right by the path, unafraid, and almost every bird in the area allowed us to snap sharp, close-up photos. Before leaving we spotted a pair of European Goldfinches, chirping cheerfully despite their “sunburnt” faces.

At the lake itself bird activity increased substantially. Raptors were abundant, including Black and Black-winged Kites, Eurasian Marsh-Harriers, Common Buzzards and Eurasian Kestrels, all flying over the marshes. One kestrel even posed for us on a sign, devouring a mouse right in front of us! The species diversity of ducks was low, but those that were here, primarily shovelers, mallards and teal, foraged in the fields in huge numbers, and Eurasian Coots, Eurasian Moorhens and Little Grebes floated on the water. Shorebirds and waders also were present, and we spotted a few Glossy Ibises, Black-winged Stilts, Ruff and a single Eurasian Spoonbill by the shoreline. Gray Herons, Great, Cattle and Little Egrets and Great and Pygmy Cormorants topped every bare branch and island in the area.

**As this Eurasian Kestrel can attest to, there’s nothing like a good stretch after tearing the head off a mouse!**

At a lookout a helpful naturalist pointed out several harder-to-see species to us, including Black-tailed Godwits and Northern Lapwings hiding in the distance among the huge numbers of cranes. I snapped photos of several raptors that flew by, later identifying them as eagles! The two we spotted were Booted and Greater Spotted, just a small percentage of the eagle species the Old World supported. Pied Avocets floated on the waves of the pond like ducks.

Sing along with us: “One of these things is not like the other. One of these things is not the same. One of these things—” Oh, you get the idea. It’s hard to blend in with 30,000 Common Cranes!

We completed our loop, tracking down cranes for better photos and spotting a Common Kingfisher skulking in the brush back at the visitor center, the only one we’d see for the rest of the trip! This little refuge, surrounded by farmland, was all that remained of the huge wetlands that had once covered much of this area and supported hippos, ostriches and cheetahs. While much of the diversity of the past had disappeared, Hula still provides habitat for thousands of birds during all seasons and efficiently allows the public to experience them. The day had not disappointed.

All photos and text on FatherSonBirding.com are strictly protected under U.S. copyright law. To request permission to use, contact Sneed at sbcollardiii+2@gmail.com.

Winter Birding in Israel, Part 1: Neighborhood Birding

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Alert: the hackers are back. We’ve had a number of suspicious sign ups recently so if you really have subscribed in the last three months, please shoot Sneed a confirmation email at collard@bigsky.net and I will make sure that you stay subscribed. Meanwhile, feel free to share this post with all the wonderful birders in your lives. Thanks!

If you are an avid fan of FatherSonBirding—and let’s face it, who isn’t?—you’ll know that Braden and I recently had an adventure of a lifetime in Israel and Jordan. Over the next few posts, we’d like to share that adventure, starting with ordinary neighborhood birding, and what any casual visitor might expect to see in Israel in January.

**The Hooded Crow not only was our first Israeli bird, it was one that would provide constant entertainment and companionship throughout our trip.**

Before flying to the Holy Land, Braden and I had already learned the value of studying up on birds of a new area, so when our flight touched down in Tel Aviv at 2 a.m., we hit the ground running. Well, sort of. First, we got on a train and traveled to our friends’ house in the pleasant coastal town of Binyamina. As soon as we’d showered and eaten breakfast, our hosts’ 14-year-old son, Noam, led us out on a tour of the neighborhood.

Now, I have to preface this by saying that Israel is the only place I know where if you go out birding, you not only have a chance of encountering some amazing historic site, you are almost guaranteed it. Only a block from his house, Noam led us to a remarkable Ottoman well that was 400-plus years old. Braden and I would have been more in awe if we weren’t already mesmerized by the variety of birds we were seeing! Our first Israeli bird? Hooded Crow, a handsome and charismatic corvid that would become a regular companion on our trip. This was soon followed by other delights including Great Tits, White-spectacled Bulbuls, Graceful Prinias, and Common Chiffchaffs, none of which we really expected to see! The most “crowd-pleasing?” The Palestinian Sunbird, an analog to American hummingbirds. We saw several, in fact, hovering to slurp up the nectar of some bright red flowers.

**The Middle East’s “hummingbird”, the Palestinian Sunbird. The convergence of both habits and appearance of these guys with our own hummers is remarkable.**

Once we passed the Ottoman well, we headed out to open farmland where we encountered a totally different suite of birds, starting with the same Rose-ringed Parakeets we’d seen in Amsterdam literally hours before (see our post “Layover Birding in Amsterdam”). Here we also encountered a charming little flycatcher called the European Stonechat—another frequent companion for our next two weeks. In the distance, we saw our first Black-winged Kite and Common Buzzard—Europe’s “Red-tailed Hawk.” Near a pond, we spotted several Glossy Ibis in flight and then came the punctuation of our first birding experience: a flight of four Great White Pelicans that flew right over us.

**Besides having a great name, the European Stonechat is a great behavioral study as it behaves very similarly to American flycatchers.**

Our first bird list totaled a satisfying twenty-one species, many of which we wouldn’t have recognized if we hadn’t done our homework ahead of time. Best of all, there was much, much more to come! Stay tuned . . .