Tag Archives: South America

One-of-a-Kind Birds—and a One-of-a-Kind Book to Go With Them

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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 Other is 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.

King of the Tyrants

Braden again.

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)

Washout at Machu Picchu

Machu Picchu between clouds.

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.