Roger and I could easily write another ten or twelve posts about our recent birding adventures to Colombia, but I thought it would be fun to pack a lot of our experiences into a video featuring our main destination down there, the Araucana Lodge. The video not only introduces you to the joys of lodge birding, but features some of the famous birds and birding opportunities to be had in the mountains above Cali. Since large files don’t always work well on this blog host, we embed a YouTube link below. Let us know what you think—and enjoy the show!
Click Here to see the first of our Colombian birding post!
“Call me asap,” Roger’s text read. A few minutes later, I dialed his number. “What’s up?”
The answer: a chance of a lifetime.
As faithful FSB readers know, Roger is a longtime friend of mine from UC Berkeley, and a guest contributor to FatherSonBirding. More than six months ago Roger and his wife, Claudia, began planning a dream birding trip to the world’s epicenter of awesome birding—the country of Colombia. How awesome is Colombia? Well, during the Global Big Day of birding each year, Colombia regularly kicks butt on all challengers. In 2024, its birders recorded an astounding 1558 species in a single 24-hour period—more than twice the number of the US despite submitting only about 15% of the number of checklists. It is widely considered to have the highest biodiversity per square meter of any country on earth.
Great Thrush and Eared Dove . . .are two of the first birds you’re likely to see in Bogota!
Sadly, Colombia has a long history of violence that has made it mostly off-limits to birders for decades. That began to change in 2016, when a peace agreement was signed between the government and FARC, the military wing of the Colombian Communist Party. Violence still racks some parts of the country, but that has not prevented a growing number of birders from seizing the chance to visit one of the world’s most spectacular ecological regions. About six months ago, Roger decided to join those growing ranks. He and Claudia mapped out a two-week trip that would include a feast of birding opportunities. However, as the great oracle of our time, Neil Young, sang, “The devil fools with the best-laid plans.” Two weeks before their trip, Claudia was forced to cancel, and Roger asked if I wanted to fill her slot. With a quick nod from Amy and the urging of Tessa, it took me about two minutes to decide.
The plan was to meet up in the Andean city of Pereira to begin our birding adventure (of which I’ll write much more later). Roger planned to fly from his home in Bend, Oregon to Miami and spend the night; then fly to Pereira via Panama City the following day. Being a Delta Airlines loyalist, I left a day earlier, spent the night in Atlanta and then flew to Bogota for a night. This excited me greatly because it would give me a morning to myself before catching a flight to Pereira to meet Roger. Gee, what oh what might I do with that morning?
Simon Bolivar Park, Bogota.
Not by accident, I booked a room in the Hotel Capital, strategically located a short taxi ride to two major birding possibilities. Rising early, I wolfed down a granola bar for breakfast and then caught a cab to Parque Metropolitano Simón Bolívar, one of the world’s largest urban parks. In my atrocious Spanish, I told the cab driver of my interest in birds and he dropped me off at the SW corner of the park near a large central lake. I had worried a bit about carrying my camera and binoculars in this unfamiliar city, but my hotel concierge had assured me the park would be safe. Sure enough, I was relieved to see a steady stream of joggers, dog walkers, and cyclists taking advantage of a beautiful sunny morning. But what of the birds?
As I walked toward the lake, I saw plenty of Great Thrushes and Eared Doves, and Sound ID picked up the songs of Rufous-collared Sparrows, a bird Braden and I had become friends with on our family trip to Ecuador and Peru in 2017.
Like a birder magnet, however, the lake drew me forward. When approaching a large body of water like this, I always look for legions of water birds to be gracing the water, and in Japan and last year’s trip to Barcelona, that had indeed been the case. Not today. Evidently, ducks just aren’t as big a deal in the tropics as in temperate zones. I did spot what looked like a domestic hybrid duck of some sort, accompanied by a much smaller bird, and I focused in on the latter for the day’s first surprise—a Pied-billed Grebe! “I didn’t know they lived this far south,” I thought. Indeed, I later learned that in the Americas, Pied-billed Grebes have the largest distribution of any grebe, stretching from mid-Canada almost to the tip of South America.
Pied-billed Grebes have the widest distribution of any American grebes.
A hundred meters farther, I caught movement in bushes and discovered one of the real prizes of my outing—a mixed flock of warblers! And not just any warblers, but three species that breed in the eastern US. One revealed a brilliant splash of orange on its face. Can you guess which one it was? That’s right—Blackburnian Warbler! It was accompanied by several Tennessee Warblers and my first look at an actual Rufous-collared Sparrow.
Blackburnian Warbler and . . .American Restart in Bogota!
As I followed the flock around, I got an even bigger surprise—a bonafide American Redstart. “Wow!” I said out loud, trying to get a photo of one of everyone’s favorite warblers.
From the main “parky park,” I crossed a pedestrian bridge over jammed up morning traffic and entered a sprawling sports complex.
You’ll be relieved to learn that Colombia has the same kinds of traffic problems as we do!
Soccer players were warming up, track and field athletes ran around a track, and tennis players smacked balls back and forth. Next to the walking path, a pair of familiar-looking black-and-white birds hopped up onto a sign. It didn’t take me long to figure out they were Tropical Mockingbirds—the only ones I would see on the trip! Then, a familiar, largish bird flew noisily by and disappeared over the wall into a stadium. Here, Braden’s and my travels to Israel paid off. Southern Lapwing! my mind immediately shouted. My real destination, though, lay just ahead.
Look familiar? It didn’t take me long to figure out that this handsome fellow was a Tropical Mockingbird.
I paid two bucks to enter the Jardin Botanico de Bogota—which, like the sporting complex, was technically part of the Simón Bolívar Park—and asked a greeter where I might find birds. Then, I set off to explore. My first find? Gorgeous Purple Gallinules. Hummingbirds also flew by, but knowing just how many hummers fill South America, I wasn’t psychologically ready to tackle those just yet.
It’s hard not to be impressed with the technicolor plumage of Purple Gallinules.
Continuing on alongside a wooded area, I spotted a bright red shape about twenty feet high on a branch—my first South American Summer Tanager! I saw another traveler staring up into the trees and walked over to introduce myself. “My name is Edwin,” he told me, along with the fact that he was from the Netherlands. “Are you seeing anything?” I asked him. “Yes, but I don’t know what they are,” he confided. I got my eyes on fast-moving, small shapes and recognized another Blackburnian Warbler, along with what I think were more Tennessee Warblers. I told Edwin what I was seeing.
“Hey, did you see the Summer Tanager?” I asked, and his eyes widened. “No!” So I led him back to where I’d spotted it, relieved to finding it still perched, evidently being well-paid by the botanical gardens staff to stay in place.
I had hoped to see some of our northern birds in their southern wintering grounds, but didn’t expect to see a Summer Tanager in downtown Bogota!
By this time, I was only up to about twenty species, which seemed like a rather poor showing for a morning in a brand new tropical country, even if I was in a major city. Only one of those species, Shiny Cowbird, was a lifer. Even worse, it was about time for me to flag down a cab and make my way back to the hotel so that I could shower, pack, and get to the airport for my flight to Pereira. Before leaving the gardens, however, I decided to make one last stop where I had seen the gallinules. Suddenly, I detected a small bird flitting among some flowers, and my pulse picked up. I didn’t know what it was, but got some decent ID shots of it. As I zoomed in on one of my photos, a smile spread across my face. It was a flowerpiercer—the first I had ever knowingly seen! Later, I consulted with Braden and we agreed that it was a beautiful little species called a Rusty Flowerpiercer.
I was thrilled to find this Rusty Flowerpiercer, the first flowerpiercer I’d ever identified on my own.
It was a great way to finish off a fun morning of layover birding in a new country. It also laid the groundwork for what would promise to be an adventurous—sometimes too adventurous—next couple of weeks.
Oh, wait, did I forget to mention the giant Harpy Eagle I saw in Bogota’s Botanical Gardens?
This week’s blog focuses on one-of-a-kind birds—and a book to go along with them. For those of you who have been following FatherSonBirding for the past couple of years, you may remember a February, 2022 post about monotypic animals. These are animals that have no other species in the scientific genus to which they belong. At the time of the post, I had begun researching a new children’s picture book about animals that were not only monotypical to genus, but to the family or order taxonomic level. In other words, these animals are really alone in their taxonomic world. What’s more, they often possess wonderful adaptations and behaviors found nowhere else in the animal kingdom. They include both animals you are undoubtedly familiar with such as the platypus, leatherback sea turtle, whale shark, and pronghorn. They also include lesser-known critters such as India’s purple frog and the South American monito del monte.
Often called an “antelope,” the Pronghorn is actually a unique survivor of our Ice Ages, whose closest living relatives are giraffes and okapis.
The good news is that Like No Other: Earth’s Coolest One-of-a-Kind Creatures is now a reality, exploring 13 of earth’s most remarkable creatures! But since this is (mostly) a birding blogsite, let me focus on the one-of-a-kind birds in the book.
Like No Other’s very first animal is Africa’s Secretarybird. I first learned about this bird 25 years ago when I was researching a book called Birds of Prey: A Look at Daytime Raptors. That book is now out of print, but while researching it, I came upon this bizarre-looking, long-legged raptor that often kicks and stomps its prey to death—when it’s not carrying them up into the air and dropping them from great heights. This grassland- and savanna-dwelling bird originally lived throughout much of Africa, but has declined sharply in much of its range. Culprits include habitat loss and degradation, collisions with fences and powerlines, and poisoning from pesticides. It is a dream of mine to see these birds in the wild before I croak (or hit a powerline myself).
Though a bird of prey, the Secretarybird’s appearance, behavior, and ancestry is unlike any other raptor.
The second bird in Like No Other is a bird I’m not sure I’d even heard of before writing the book: South America’s Oilbird. These squat, kind of chubby-looking birds are reminiscent of nightjars such as the Common Nighthawk or Common Pauraque, but similarities stop there. Oilbirds roost in colonies of up to 10,000 birds in caves of forested areas of northern South America and along the spine of the Andes. Like bats, they use echolocation and an excellent sense of smell to locate fruits of forest trees. Birds of the World lists them as of “Least Concern,” but they contain so much fat that in the past they have been boiled down for oil lamp fuel. No one has any idea how long they live.
Oilbirds live in caves in South America and hunt using echolocation, good night vision, and a great sense of smell.
You know me. I would have packed a lot more birds into Like No Other but felt obligated to include a fair number of other vertebrate groups (those darned vertebrates!). I did manage to wedge one more monotypic bird into the pages, however—New Zealand’s enigmatic Kakapo. For those of you who haven’t heard of it, the Kakapo is the world’s heaviest parrot. Even more amazing, it doesn’t fly! I first learned about the birds 35 years ago when I was on a four-month bicycle trip through New Zealand. At the time, fewer than 50 Kakapo were thought to exist, and as is so often the case on Pacific islands, invasive mammalian predators were largely to blame. Thanks to an intensive conservation program that included captive breeding and eradication of introduced species from offshore islands, however, the Kakapo’s future now looks much rosier. Kakapo are by no means out of the woods, but their population is up to about 250 birds, and they are being closely monitored. It’s another wonderful example of what humans can accomplish when we put our minds to it.
The Kakapo provides an inspirational story of what we can do to save species if we try.
Humans are the very last one-of-a-kind creatures in Like No Other. Nothing like us has ever existed on the planet before, and the jury’s still out whether we can figure out what to do with our big brains and ambitions without destroying ourselves. Stories of protecting the Kakapo and other species in Like No Other, though, give me hope we’ll come up with solutions.
Like No Otheris available now from your local independent bookstore, online stores, and other outlets.
Like No Other is available now through your local independent bookstore and other outlets.
We had been in Peru almost three weeks, and birding was on our minds. Okay sure, it had been on our minds the entire trip so far, but none of the things we’d done had been birding-oriented—we’d had a homestay in Cuzco, a weekend getaway to Pisac, a week journeying the Sacred
Probably the coolest ducks at Huarcapay, these Puna Teal glided effortlessly across the mountain lake. (Photo by Braden Collard)
Valley including Machu Picchu. Don’t get me wrong, we saw tons of great birds, including the national bird of Peru and quite possibly the most stunning bird in South America (see Post: “Washout at Machu Picchu”), but nothing on our schedule was designed to see birds. It just included them. So, as our time in Peru came to a close, we decided it was time to hire a guide and really see some birds.
At 5:30 a.m., we were picked up by our guide Juan Jose Salas Falcon and his stepfather from our hotel in Cuzco. We drove in the direction of the ruins of Sacsayhuaman (“Sexy Woman”), which we had visited about a week earlier. Our planned destination was Laguna de Huacarpay, which I had researched on ebird the night before. Thanks to recent lists, my dad and I had picked our target birds: Puna Ibis, Mountain Caracara, Aplomado Falcon, any kind of duck (only five species were common here) and the Many-colored Rush-Tyrant.
Just one of a trio we saw harassing a Variable Hawk, this Mountain Caracara was another Target Bird for the day. (Photo by Braden Collard)
We stopped at a few spots first to see some endemic landbirds (including the exotic-looking Chestnut-breasted Mountain-Finch) and get close to waterfowl, then arrived at the lake. At first glance, it resembled Lee Metcalf Wildlife Refuge, our local Montana go-to spot for waterfowl, but much, much bigger. Surrounding it were polluted neighborhoods, tall chain-link fences, and scrub-covered mountains.
We pulled to the side of the road shortly upon arriving and then trudged through the reeds to an observation tower where we got great looks at a solitary Chilean Flamingo feeding in the shallows. As we were heading back to the car, Juan Jose stopped us.
“Shhh! That rattle—it’s a rush-tyrant!”
We moved towards the sound, and I thought about what he had told us about this bird on the drive up. He said the locals had a story about how this bird had stolen all of the other tyrant’s colors. Suddenly, in response to Juan Jose’s playback, a small rainbow bird popped into view! The bird had a blue face, yellow body, green back and red rump—the entire rainbow displayed on one bird. It reminded me of the Common Yellowthroats we had back home: skulkers, but beautiful. Success! The day following this great sighting was amazing; we got every single target bird, along with more endemics and surprises we could wish for.
This Many-colored Rush-Tyrant was just one of the birds that made our day. (Photo by Braden Collard)
Almost exactly a year ago, our family was traveling through Ecuador and Peru. Birding wasn’t the purpose of our five-week adventure, but Braden and I sought out birds wherever we went—including our visit to South America’s must-see archaeological destination, Machu Picchu.
The morning of our visit, we awoke to what can only be described as a gully-washer. Rain didn’t pour, it cascaded down on the streets and rooftops of Aguas Calientes, the ramshackle tourist town that serves as a staging area for MAPI, as it is known in Peru. Not only that, but Braden’s sister, Tessa, awoke with a terrible cold. Nonetheless, a guide met us at our hotel before dawn and led us to the shuttle buses and, as planned, we were some of the first people to reach the famed Incan site.
Our guide explained the significance of the ruins as we wandered, fascinated, through the main site. As the rain continued to drench us, however, my daughter looked ever more miserable. Worse, we knew this would be our only chance to see the ancient complex, as visitors must buy their tickets months ahead of time. Finally, about 11 a.m., Amy decided to take Tessa back down the mountain so that she could rest, leaving Braden and I pondering what we should do with the next several hours.
Birding saved the day.
Saffron-crowned Tanager
On a whim, we decided to walk up the trail to the Sun Gate and almost immediately began seeing terrific birds. They included Saffron-crowned and Blue-capped Tanagers, Inca Wrens, a Tri-colored Brushfinch, and my favorites, Andean Guans.
Andean Guan
After riding the bus back down to Aguas, we decided to visit the Inkaterra Hotel. We’d visited the previous evening and been rewarded by a host of hummingbirds at the hotel’s feeders, along with two Andean Motmots. As the rain finally lightened up, we again hit the hummingbird feeders and explored the rest of the grounds. At one point, we ran into another birder and began talking about what we’d seen.
“Did you see the Cock-of-the-rocks?” he asked us.
“You saw them?” Braden asked with astonishment and envy. The Andean Cock-of-the-rock was, after all, one of the birds we—like many birders—most wanted to see, but we had doubted we’d have the time or resources to visit one of the bird’s famed leks at any time during our itinerary.
Our new friend just grinned at us and said, “Turn around.”
There, only twenty yards away sat a brilliantly orange and black male feeding on palm fruits in a tree.
Male Cock-of-the-Rock (Photo by Sneed B. Collard III)
“The female is over there,” the man pointed.
Braden and I spent the next twenty minutes admiring and photographing the birds. We couldn’t believe our good fortune at finding them and, honestly, it transformed our visit to this iconic location. From then on when we thought of Machu Picchu, we wouldn’t think of the Biblical deluge, cloud-obscured views, or how crummy Tessa felt. We would think of a vibrant orange and black bird sitting in a tree.
