Tag Archives: city birding

Birding Costa Rica—Beginning at the Airport

Some of our most popular posts have focused on exotic travel destinations, and today we kick off our latest series on one of North American birders’ most popular choices: Costa Rica. Braden and I just returned from an exhilarating, intense, nine-day birding adventure to the land of Pura Vida, and over the next couple of months I’ll be posting blogs on our most memorable birding experiences interspersed with our usual entertaining “paella” of reviews, domestic birding, and other fascinating topics. Again, we do not receive compensation for our blogging efforts, so if you wish to support our work, please purchase a few new copies of Birding for Boomers, Warblers & Woodpeckers, First-Time Japan, or any of Sneed’s other books. If you already have copies, why not pick up some for your friends? With that, let’s dive into Costa Rica at—where else—the airport!

Braden and I arrived at Juan Santamaría International Airport at 10 p.m.—just time enough to get to the rental car office before it closed. After collecting our vehicle, we drove to a nearby Airbnb so we could get a fresh start in the morning. Having spent a lot of time in Costa Rica the past couple of years, Braden had organized our entire birding itinerary and even picked this first place to stay—not only because it was convenient to the airport, but because it happened to have a terrific, little-known birding spot just down the street.

**Braden and I from the porch of our Airbnb in Alejuela—practically under the flight path for San Jose’s international airport, and loaded with birds!**

Braden and I are big fans of birding near airports, and have often found hidden avian treasures where you’d least expect them. Just last spring, on my final morning in Texas, I had a remarkable birding session in the vacant lot behind my hotel next to the airport in San Antonio, Texas. And during his spring Costa Rica trip last year, Braden had discovered a special little place only two blocks from our Airbnb. This year, as soon as dawn crept over Alejuela (where San Jose’s airport is actually located), he and I grabbed our binoculars and cameras and headed out.

Our destination was a large city park with the even larger name of Caminito Magico de la Tranquilidad. Being unfamiliar with the rather poor-looking neighborhood, I admit that I felt a bit nervous about our safety, but my concerns quickly vanished. At the park, people were jogging, biking, doing exercises, visiting over coffee, and walking around as in any park anywhere. The park covered several hectares, mostly devoted to playing fields, but a lot of trees threaded the fields and lined the park’s perimeter, and Braden led the way in guiding us on a full circuit.

Even at dawn, Caminito Magico de la Tranquilidad park was bustling with people—and birds! Note the giant mall rising in the background—a good place to escape the heat and grab a bite, though a much better little soda (cafe) sits only a block from the park entrance.

I had spent two months in Costa Rica in 1994, but tragically, that was before I took an interest in birds. Since Braden and I started birding a dozen years ago, I had been fortunate to bird in Latin America several times—most recently in Colombia con mi amigo, Roger—but it was fair to say that I was a novice at Costa Rican birds. I had been studying, however, and to my delight Caminito Magico park presented a perfect warm up for the week ahead.

Entering the park, a Squirrel Cuckoo immediately flew across a soccer field in front of us. Braden identified Orange-chinned and Crimson-fronted Parakeets loudly squawking overhead, and I was thrilled to see my first ever Hoffman’s Woodpecker land in a nearby tree.

**My very first Hoffman’s Woodpecker put me in an ebullient mood as we kicked off our first Costa Rican birding session!**

The park was filled with many of the more common birds any visiting birder will quickly get acquainted with. These included five kinds of pigeons and doves, Tropical Kingbirds, Great Kiskadees, Great-tailed Grackles, and Costa Rica’s national bird, Clay-colored Thrushes. Blue-gray Tanagers flew between trees while Blue-and-White Swallows darted for insects overhead.

**Baltimore Orioles are common throughout Costa Rica—and never fail to raise a smile for a visiting Norteamericano birder!**

As we reached the far perimeter, I was delighted to find that a creek skirted about half of the park’s boundary. Trees grew thickly here, and following the pleasant path, the birds got even more interesting. Braden began pointing out Chestnut-capped, Northern Yellow, and Tennessee Warblers while I focused in on a stunning male Baltimore Oriole in a flowering tree. Braden also detected several kinds of wrens: Southern House Wren, Rufous-and-White Wren, Cabanis’s Wren, and the beautiful bruisers of the bunch, Rufous-backed Wrens.

**This would be the only location on our trip where we would see the “giant” Rufous-backed Wren—another reason to bird the San Jose area before heading into Costa Rica’s hinterland.**

This being in the heart of Costa Rica’s largest city, I gotta tell you that I had no expectations for the creek itself, especially because it was strewn with an assortment of trash. The birds apparently didn’t care and almost immediately, Braden pointed out one of the birds I had most wanted to see on the trip—Bare-throated Tiger-Heron! I was thrilled, but hardly had time to appreciate it as we spotted a quail-sized coot-like bird skulking the banks—a Gray-cowled Wood-Rail!

**For me, seeing a Bare-throated Tiger-Heron and Gray-cowled Wood-Rail (above) were stunning surprises in the heart of Costa Rica’s largest city!**

Soon after, Braden pointed out a Northern Waterthrush while I spotted a Green Heron along the opposite bank. This, of course, is one of the magical things about birding the neotropics: how in the midst of all of these amazing new tropical birds, we find many species that are totally familiar to us in North America. It begs the definition of just what a neotropical bird is since in reality, many species we Norteamericanos consider “our birds” are just visiting us for a short time, and can more rightly be considered tropical species. Maybe that’s how this park got the name “Magico”?

**Seeing “North American” warblers such as this Northern Waterthrush in the tropics makes you rethink what we consider “our” birds.**

Our delightful discoveries were far from over. At the far corner of the park, we met an amateur naturalist who visited this spot almost daily to monitor wildlife, and he generously shared that only minutes before, he had seen one of the San Jose Valley’s most intriguing endemics. We hurried down the trail and only fifty meters later saw them: Cabanis’s Ground-Sparrows.

Cabanis’s Ground-Sparrows are related to White-faced Ground-Sparrows, but live only in the San Jose area—an intriguing case of endemism that would make a great PhD research topic!

These are birds that Braden especially wanted to show me—but didn’t think he could. These handsome little guys live only in central Costa Rica, specifically in the valley occupied by San Jose. While not rare, they often tend to be pretty shy, making them challenging to see. They prefer scrubby, disturbed places like forest edges, coffee plantations, and apparently, city parks with lots of places to hide. Braden and I both began clicking off photos, but mostly we enjoyed watching them, one of dozens of unexpected surprises we would encounter over the next nine days.

As we were winding down our visit with the Cabanis’s Ground-Sparrows, I saw a larger bird swoop past us and land on a nearby branch. “Braden,” I hissed. “Look!” It was a final gift from this amazing city park: a Lesson’s Motmot! Not only that, it struck an incredible, leisurely pose. Motmots, of course, are some of Latin America’s most distinctive tropical birds and always high on a visitor’s to-see list. I was no exception, and felt enormously grateful to see one in our very first hour or two of Costa Rica birding.

**Seeing a Lesson’s Motmot in our first birding session left no doubt that we were birding somewhere far different from Montana!**

We finished our list with 47 species—almost as many birds as I’d seen in Montana in the first seven weeks of 2026! It was an awesome kick-start to our expedition, and we celebrated by grabbing our first Tico breakfast of rice, beans, eggs, and fruit at a little family diner only a few meters from the park entrance. We couldn’t predict how many highs and lows the next nine days would hold for us, but we were grateful and happy for such a promising start!

Caminito Magico de la Tranquilidad checklist: https://ebird.org/checklist/S302412338

**Braden has a passionate fondness for Costa Rican food, and after our first birding session we wasted no time in getting him a traditional Tico breakfast just a block from the park entrance!**

Birding Barcelona, Part 2: In Search of the Greater Flamingo

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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!

When birding big cities I’ve discovered that it often requires a bit of extra effort to reach even a highly modified natural area. That proved true last year when my daughter and I visited Japan (see “Birding Japan: Kanazawa”), and it once again proved to be the case when my wife and I recently visited Barcelona. After birding city parks and tourist sites all week, I had barely breached 30 bird species total—far short of my goal of 50 or 60 species (see “Birding Barcelona, Part 1: The Urban Core”). I had a plan to help rectify the situation—but it was going to take that extra bit of effort to realize it.

On the last full day of our trip, I rose early, wolfed down some yoghurt, and hailed a cab in front of our hotel. In my mediocre Spanish, I explained to Isabella, my driver, where I wanted to go and even showed her the place on Google Maps. She knew about the area and had even been there, so we set out toward the airport in a light drizzle.

When visiting Barcelona, the best chance for a birder to enjoy some natural habitat—and an abundance of birds—is to take a taxi out to the Espais Naturals del Delta del Llobregat near the Barcelona Airport.

My destination was the “Espais Naturals del Delta del Llobregat,” which I’ll just call “Llobregat” for simplicity. Llobregat was a wetland divided into two parts, one on either side of the Barcelona airport, and the reason it existed at all was no doubt due to the fact that you can’t build huge buildings where giant aircraft can run into them. I thank the travel gods for that because these wetlands were the only orange-colored (high species count) hotspots anywhere near the city of Barcelona.

I asked Isabella to drop me off at the area on the far (western) side of the airport, and twenty minutes later found myself standing utterly alone on a road that appeared to lead into the natural area. Turns out, Isabella could have driven me another mile closer to the main action, but that error turned out to be a good thing. As I walked down the road, I began hearing all kinds of bird vocalizations and soon Merlin’s Sound ID picked up a new lifer for me, Cetti’s Warbler, calling from the thick reeds on both sides of the road. Sound ID also picked up Green Sandpiper, which got me really excited because shorebirds were at the top of my list to see on this, my sole real birding outing, of the trip. As I walked, I also saw what would be my only raptors of the trip—three Western Marsh-Harriers—and some high-flying swallow-type birds that turned out to be Eurasian Crag-Martins. I got occasional glimpses at a canal to my left, but saw only Mallards, a pair of Gadwalls, and a Gray Heron in it.

Half an hour later, I arrived at Llobregat’s official entrance and was relieved to see a series of established trails that led to various bird blinds around the reserve. As I followed the first trail, Common Chiffchaffs, Black Redstarts, European Robins, European Serins, and White Wagtails hopped and fluttered around me, but my excitement didn’t spike until I entered the first birding blind.

**I had worried that I might miss Greater Flamingos in Spain, but a couple of dozen greeted me at Llobregat. Note how pale they are. Evidently, they are not getting enough crustaceans in their diets!**

It took me about five seconds to locate the birds I most wanted to see—Greater Flamingos. But they just formed the tasty appetizer to the huge variety of waterfowl before me. This included many familiar ducks familiar from back home: Northern Shovelers, Gadwalls, Mallards, and the Eurasian variety of Green-winged Teal (which may eventually get split into a new species).

I just love the unique looks of Eurasia’s Green-winged Teals, which have a distinctively different appearance than our North American versions. I hope the taxonomic splitters pounce on them and declare them a distinct species.

The ducks that really got me going, though, were new for my life list: Common Shelducks and a pair of Red-crested Pochards that was doing its best to avoid eye contact on a distant island! I had hoped to see both of these, but had tempered my expectations. No worries—there they were, and in company of a lone Eurasian Wigeon.

Ka-ching! **Life Bird #1007!** **Common Shelduck in the company of a pretty fetching Mallard!**

As I sat enjoying the duck show, I also noted Eurasian Coots and Moorhens, along with a delightful pair of Little Grebes, all of which I had seen in Japan almost a year earlier. As I scanned the pond, I also saw something quickly dive into the reeds at the edge of the pond. I strongly suspect that this was a Water Rail, but reacted just a moment too slow to get my binoculars on it.

If you look at this photo carefully, you will see a number of charismatic Spanish species: Graylag Goose, Eurasian Wigeon, and my lifer Red-crested Pochards. The latter two are reported infrequently this time of year.

After about thirty minutes, I continued onto another viewing area. On the way, I passed a plywood wall with a few viewing windows cut into it and happened to take a quick peek. A largish purplish bird stuck out and my first thought was “Eurasian Moorhen.” Then, I did a double-take. “Hold on. Moorhens aren’t that blue—nor do they have bright red bills and legs!” The bird before me was one I had been studying on eBird quizzes, but darned if I could remember the name of it. Scrolling through eBird, I quickly found it: Western Swamphen! Even better, it had two adorable fuzzy black chicks with it!

I had not expected to see such a bird in my wildest dreams and it didn’t stay visible for long—just long enough for me to take a couple of modest photos—before disappearing into the reeds. And that, apparently, is typical for this bird, a species that rarely makes an appearance even where it might be fairly common. It immediately leaped to the top of my Trip Bird list, where it would remain for the rest of our vacation and beyond.

**Earning Bird of the Trip honors, this rare sighting of a Western Swamphen put a lasting grin on my face. That black “shadow” to its left is actually one of two chicks accompanying it.**

After more bird blind fun, I walked out to the beach in the hopes of seeing shorebirds. No dice. In fact, I didn’t see a single shorebird my entire morning, one of the trip’s big disappointments. I asked the interpreter about it and he confirmed that there hadn’t been many shorebirds around the entire year. Alas, I later discovered that the other section of the wetlands, on the east side of the airport, had been getting some. Nonetheless, I sat down on a jetty, breathed in the salt air of the Mediterranean, and enjoyed some bread and cheese while watching the giant jets taking off to almost every continent in the world. Then, I began making my way back down the long access road, happy with the day despite the shorebird miss.

My morning at Llobregat nabbed me 33 species—as many as I’d seen in the previous five days in Barcelona. It pushed my world life list to 1011 species. It also pushed my trip list to 49 species—one short of my goal of 50 species. “Shoot,” I thought, riding a taxi back downtown. “Where can I go near our hotel to pick up one more species?” I hadn’t a clue, and quietly resigned myself to this epic failure that would mar my reputation and confidence the rest of my life and cast shame upon my friends and family.

**More Flamingo fun. These birds sat atop my list of birds I wanted to see in Barcelona and at Llobregat, they did not disappoint.**

That evening, Amy—who had spent the day shopping and visiting the Picasso Museum—and I decided to take a walk before our last Barcelona supper. She hadn’t yet visited Parc de la Ciutadella (see my previous post “Birding Barcelona, Part 1: The Urban Core”), so we strolled over there. We reached the pond where they rented rowboats and decided to go for it. I handed over six Euros and we climbed in, joining a huge assortment of merry locals and tourists. Black-headed and Yellow-legged Gulls, Graylag Geese, Gray Herons, and Mallards surrounded us. Monk and Rose-ringed Parakeets squawked overhead. I smiled. This was a perfect way to wrap up the trip.

Then, I spotted a small bird sally out from the edge of the pond and return to land on a rock. From similar sightings in Taiwan, Israel, and Japan, I knew immediately what it was. “Gray Wagtail!” I exclaimed! Just as in Japan, it was the only GRWA I had seen, and it pushed my trip list to 50 species.

I swear, you can’t make this guano up.