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Habitats of Africa: A Field Guide for Birders, Naturalists, and Ecologists (Book Review)

To Order, Click Here: https://press.princeton.edu/books/paperback/9780691244761/habitats-of-africa

I’m excited to be heading off to Texas in a few days, to promote my book Birding for Boomers, but also to squeeze in a few days of birding. Before I go, I want to share an exciting new book that will interest anyone who has ever dreamed about visiting Africa. Braden loved a previous book, Habitats of the World, by two of the co-authors, and this follow-up is also full of fascinating facts and insights. Oh, and in case you missed it, you’ll want to read last week’s outstanding guest post by Roger Kohn, “Cock-of-the-Rock Extravaganza—with Video!” Enjoy!

When I first opened my review copy of Habitats of Africa, I thought, “How on earth did the authors put together such a comprehensive guide to such a vast and ecologically diverse continent?” I next wondered how, as a reader, I might possibly absorb the immense amount of information packed into this handsome volume. The answer to the first question is that all three authors have worked as professional nature guides, with extensive experience in Africa. As for the second? I could only answer that by diving in.

***Habitats of Africa: A Field Guide for Birders, Naturalists, and Ecologists*** **by Ken Behrens, Keith, Barnes, and Iain Campbell (Princeton University Press)**

The table of contents reveals that Habitats of Africa covers an astonishing seventy-plus different habitats, and honestly, that alone could be overwhelming to the beginning reader. The TOC, though, also provides good clues for how the book is arranged and is therefore worth a few moments of time.

Habitats are organized under a dozen headings, ranging from “Deserts and Arid Lands” and “Warm Humid Broadleaf Forests” to “Savannas” and “Saline Habitats.” The first habitat I read was the Maghreb fir and cedar forest, one of four habitats listed under the “Conifers” heading. I probably started with this one because I don’t usually think about conifer forests growing in Africa. They do, of course, but their ranges are extremely limited, and I wanted to know more about them.

Even those who have never visited Africa easily recognize many of the continent’s distinctive habitats such as this acacia-clad savanna my wife Amy and I observed on our trip to Ethiopia in 2005. This is one of eight distinct kinds of savannas explained in *Habitats of Africa*.

The listing began with a nice map of where these forests can be found, and then followed with a concise but revealing description of the forest itself. Surprising phrases kept leaping out at me: “Atlas Cedar”, “clusters of oaks”, “winter snowpack”. I mean, where was I, anyway? This sounded more like California than Africa. One of the nice things about the book, however, is that it lists similar forest types found elsewhere in Africa and around the world—including the pinyon-juniper woodland of western North America.

**Lamentably, Amy and I visited Africa before I became a birder, but I accidentally managed to take a few bird photos with my point-and-shoot camera, including this magnificent African Fish-Eagle.**

After the description, the authors include accounts of a habitat’s conservation status, the particular wildlife that can be found there; and its distribution—including specific places to see it. I found the wildlife sections especially well-done because the authors focused on endemic and other high-interest species while not overloading the reader with information. As a birder, for instance, I discovered that the avifauna of the Maghreb fir and cedar forest shares similarities to what I have observed in the Levant and southern Europe (see posts “Winter Birding in Israel, Part II: Valley of the Cranes” and “Birding Barcelona, Part 1: The Urban Core”)—but that there are also different species such as the Levaillant’s Woodpecker and Atlas Flycatcher.

**African Sacred Ibis and Marabou Stork attracted to a fish market at a lake south of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.**

There’s no getting around that the conservation status for most of the habitats is alarming. It’s hard to find a habitat in which humans haven’t made a major impact, especially given Africa’s rapidly-growing human population. In fact, the book includes eight habitats under its “Anthropogenic” heading—those with little of their original ecosystems intact. Although depressing on one hand, this conservation information provides a good picture of what is going on in the continent—trends that are distressingly similar to those experienced in many of the world’s other places, including North America. I also found it interesting to read why some habitats appear to be faring better than others. For instance, of southern Africa’s succulent karoo habitat—a habitat I’d never heard of—the authors write, “With limited agricultural potential and not much grass, the land in this biome is not highly sought after for human activity, but there has beeen significant sheep grazing and subsequent erosion.”

**Ethiopia’s burgeoning population and pervasive poverty force livestock owners to illegally graze, even in places such as Bale National Park, one of the last strongholds of the Ethiopian Wolf.**

The problem with reading about one habitat, however, is that it immediately made me curious to learn about others. The Maghreb fir and cedar forest discussion, for instance, mentioned that the forest peters out on the southern mountain slopes draining into the Sahara. “But what’s the Sahara really like?” I wondered, so I soon found myself reading up on one of the world’s most inhospitable places, the Saharan reg desert. This is a place that often receives less than one inch of rainfall each year—and where places can go years without seeing a drop. Yet, life persists here. Although much of the large megafauna has been hunted out, fascinating animals such as sand cats and fennec foxes survive, along with an incredible collection of small mammals and reptiles. This is a good place to mention that the book is filled with outstanding photos of the habitats and their various life forms, and in this chapter a photo of Cream-colored Courser caught my eye. Why? Because it looked almost identical to the Mountain Plovers we have in the arid West!

**Amy and I were fortunate to see Ethiopian wolves in one of their last strongholds, a high-altitude habitat called afroparamo in Bale National Park.** **Already by our visit in 2005, grazing in the park (see previous photo) threatened the outlook for the wolves and the giant mole rats that serve as one of their major prey.**

That said, one thing the book showed me is that, although similarities can be found between African and other world habitats, many of the ecosystems in Africa are unique—especially if you compare them to North America. And that can have a strange impact on a reader.

If you have any doubts about the uniqueness of many of Africa’s ecosystems, all you have to do is look at this lobelia tree in Ethiopia’s Bale National Park. The trees reminded me of Joshua trees in the American Southwest, and I can’t help thinking that the two trees might represent a striking case of convergent evolution.

I have only ever been to Africa once, during a school visit to Ethiopia in 2005. What’s more, I thought it unlikely I would ever have a chance to visit again. As I read through Habitats of Africa, however, I kept thinking, “Oh, I want to see that,” and “I want to go there.” It doesn’t mean I will get to, but reading this book may be the next best thing. More than all of the nature documentaries I’ve watched, this volume has given me a plausible idea of the incredible diversity of places and nature that can be seen there. As a birder in particular, it’s also given me a much better idea of the birds that I especially would like to see. It’s a stretch to call the book casual reading, but for anyone interested in nature, or planning their own trip to Africa, it is a well worth your time. If I ever get a chance to return to Africa, you can bet that I’ll be spending even more time with this impressive publication.

Note: Along with the extensive photographs and distribution maps, Habitats of Africa includes a wealth of climate charts, profile sketches, and topical sidebars that enhance the reader’s understanding of each habitat.

One-Sentence Summary: An eye-opening crash course on the nature of perhaps the world’s least understood continent.

Overall Rating (on a scale of cool birds): Rüppell’s Griffon (highest)

You can order Habitats of Africa from your local independent bookstore, or directly from Princeton University Press. Please tell them we sent you!

(Except for the cover image, photos in this post are copyright Sneed B. Collard III. Review copy of Habitats of Africa provided by the publisher.)

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!

Birding Japan? A Book, Blogs—and Extra Tips—to Help You Prepare!

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Since they were published last spring, our Japan birding posts have consistently received the most views on our “blogging backlist”—and by a wide margin. This is surprising given that Japan is not known as one of the world’s top birding hotspots. We suspect that our blogs’ popularity reflects the surging popularity of Japan as a travel destination—and that those travelers happen to include a lot of birders!

That said, many people find the idea of traveling to Japan intimidating. The language barrier, the complex public transportation system—even Japanese toilets—have led to what I call Fear of Japan among many prospective travelers. However, it was this very intimidation factor that compelled me (Sneed) to write my newest book, First-Time Japan: A Step-by-Step Guide for the Independent Traveler. For birders and non-birders alike, this entertaining volume tells you all you need to know to plan and negotiate your first trip to one of the world’s great travel destinations. Best of all, you can buy it NOW. In fact, why not grab a dozen copies and give them to all of your friends for the holidays? (“Gee, Sneed, that’s an AWESOME idea!”)

As proud as we are of the book, I confess that it is not aimed specifically at birders, so for today’s blog I decided to provide additional advice specifically for you. So without further ado, here are some bonus birding tips for your upcoming Japan adventure.

**First-Time Japan is not a birding guide, but tells you what you need to know to plan a successful trip. Click to order!**

Tip 1: Take Full Advantage of eBird.

eBird is an incredibly valuable tool for any trip, including Japan. If you do not have an account, sign up now at eBird.org. eBird will help you in at least three dramatic ways:

Trip Planning: If you want to time your trip to coincide with the greatest possible number of bird species, simply look up a location in Japan, and study the bar charts for that place. This will tell you when migratory birds arrive and depart. In general, April and May are great birding months for the Tokyo and Kyoto areas— but you have to balance whether you want to hit sakura, or flowering cherry, trees, too. Our three-week trip lasted from the end of March into early April and we managed to time the sakura perfectly while seeing a good number of birds.

Finding Birding Locations: eBird will also identify birding hotspots wherever you are traveling in Japan. In Tokyo, for instance, eBird alerted me to Hamarikyu Gardens, Kasai Rinkai Park, and Shinkjuku Gyoen National Garden—three of my favorite Japan birding experiences.

Learning Japan’s Birds: I credit eBird quizzes with almost single-handedly preparing me to ID birds on my Japan trip. If you haven’t taken an eBird quiz, simply hit the Explore button and scroll down to the “Photo + Sound Quiz” button. These quizzes not only allow you to specify a location, but the time of year, too, so once you have your itinerary laid out you can just keep drilling yourself until you feel confident. In fact, I took so many quizzes that I was able to ID 95% of the birds I saw almost immediately!

**eBird offers a wealth of tools to prepare you for your Japan adventure—including bird quizzes that you customize to where you want to go, and when.** **(Image copyright Cornell Lab.)**

Tip 2: Jump on Your Jet Lag.

When you arrive in Japan, chances are you’re going to wake up crazy early (as in the middle of the night)—so whenever possible, put that time to good use. On at least half of my days in Japan, I was out the door at the crack of dawn birding whatever location I happened to be in. Sure, you’ll be tired—but no more tired than if you lay in your bed for six hours hoping to fall back to sleep! Getting out early will also help your internal clock adjust to Japan time.

**Taking advantage of my jet lag early wake-ups helped me discover a treasure trove of Japan birds—including my Lifer Dusky Thrushes near Tokyo’s Imperial Palace!**

Tip 3: Don’t Confine Yourself to Birding Hotspots.

Although eBird does show a fair number of birding hotspots, it misses a lot of great locations—probably because there aren’t yet enough birders in Japan to cover them all. The solution? Study a map of where you are and look for any river or other green space and check it out. This paid off for me big time, especially during our quick stop in Nagano, where I nabbed my Lifer Bull-headed Shrike and many other cool birds along the Susobana River.

**Exploring beyond established eBird hotspots can unearth awesome birding locations—including the Susobana River in Nagano.**

Tip 4: Make Sure You Have the Best Walking Shoes for Your Feet.

Okay, this sounds obvious, but you will be walking a LOT in Japan. My daughter and I covered six to ten miles a day, every day. Before the trip I bought three different pairs of new shoes/boots and field tested them. The ones that worked best? The cheapest pair of Skechers! You won’t be sorry you put in the extra effort to make sure your shoes are comfortable and sturdy.

**Solid walking shoes let you take advantage of most birding opportunities, including Kanazawa’s Kenmin Seaside Park.**

Tip 5: Get a Handle on Japan Transportation.

Using public transportation is one of the real joys of visiting Japan—but fills first-timers with trepidation. My book First-Time Japan can help you feel a lot more comfortable with this. Unfortunately, the Japan Rail Pass has gotten a lot more expensive lately, but moving around cities is both convenient and inexpensive. I especially recommend buying the 24-, 48-, or 72-hour “Welcome! Tokyo!” subway pass when in Tokyo and using IC cards (rechargeable credit cards) for almost all other local transportation. Taxis are also very reasonable in Japan, so if a subway or other train won’t get you there, a taxi probably can.

**Not all of Japan’s public transportation is as cute as the Enoshima Electric Railway, but once you get the hang of it, trains are a great way to reach most urban birding destinations.**

Tip 6: Reread our Previous Japan Birding Blogs.

Kyoto, for instance. Need we say more?

The bottom line: Japan is not Colombia or Australia, but you will still see great birds there. While doing so, you will enjoy one of the most pleasant, fascinating countries imaginable. Just be sure to share your experiences with us when you get back!

All About Alcids

Washout at Machu Picchu

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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.

FatherSonBirding

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