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Both are birds of remote, wild, and of inaccessible, high country, favoring cliffs, crags, precipices, canyons and gorges.

The Lammergeier is a large bird, also known as the Bearded Vulture. It's body is nearly 4 feet long. Its wings about 8 and a half feet across. On the bird we saw, as it flew against a sheer, rocky cliff-face, its orange-buff body, black wings, long tail, and black facial mask could readily be seen. As always, seeing a Lammergeier in flight is a thrill.
No where is it a common bird. Its range, even though large, across Eurasia and in parts of Africa, is scattered. Lammergeiers have large territories. In the Pyrenees, it's said that 2 pairs can have an immense home range of 100 square kilometers.

Wallcreepers share with the Lammergeiers the habitat of large rock faces, and the range across Eurasia (not Africa), throughout which it too is never common. But the Wallcreeper is not 8 feet by 4. Rather, it's only 5 inches.
Related to nuthatches, the Wallcreeper flits with a jerky gait on rockfaces. Unlike a treecreeper, it does not use its tail for support.
The bird's a bit like a gray moth (but with burgundy butterfly wings). It flicks those wings constantly. That behavior is adapted by juveniles as soon as they fledge. But they are even a more uniform light-gray against rocks often much the same coloration. We went to a place, truly beautiful in the mountains, where Wallcreepers had just nested. With some patience, and good fortune, we saw what was apparently one of the young birds flitting against the rocky cliff above us.

As we were lying still on the ground and looking up, waiting for the small bird to reappear, move cross the rock, and then disappear, we became ourselves items of interest for large birds circling overhead. Massive Griffon Vultures came closer and closer (until we moved). Conversely, small birds that visited us as we waited were Firecrests and Crested Tits. Choughs were acrobatically flying about. Nearby, a pair tended to a young bird in a crevice. The Choughs were vocal as they flew, as were the Ravens flying higher above us.

Regarding change however, and giving credit to adaptation, in the past on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees, the currency was the Peseta. On the French side, it was the Franc. Now, on both sides, it's the Euro.

Also in the Pyrenees, we birded by structures (monasteries and the like) from as far back as the 9th Century - pre-peseta.

A site south of the Pyrenees that we visited was a town (known as Belchite) that was destroyed during the Spanish Civil War (in the 1930's). As a way of commemorating how bad war can be, only the rubble of buildings is there now. No people anymore. But by the destroyed church, there are resident Black Wheatears and Blue Rock Thrushes, along with the more-common riffraff of House Sparrows. In Belchite today, birds live (and probably other creatures). But not humans.

The delta juts miles into the sea, with a large amount of habitat favored by shorebirds. Those we saw included both Common and Spotted Redshanks, both Curlew and Whimbrel, both Black-tailed and Bar-tailed Godwits, Plovers mostly Kentish but also Ringed and Grey (or Black-bellied), Eurasian Oystercatcher, Pied Avocet (with young), and Black-winged Stilt.

Greater Flamingos waded in pools where also there were some notable gulls, including the rare Audouin's, Slender-billed (often with the flamingos), Mediterranean, Black-headed, Lesser Black-backed, and Yellow-legged (the last of these the most common along the beach).

As interesting as the gulls were, the terns were more so. Along the coast, in an area of a huge spit of sand, there were more terns than one could be imagine. Thousands of terns were flying over the surf, all in the same direction (toward their nesting colony). Each and every one of the terns had a small fish in its bill. Yes, there were thousands. Most were Common Terns (if ever that term for a tern were appropriate it was there). Also in numbers were Sandwich and Little Terns. And Gull-billed Terns, which wandered away from the sea inland to fields to catch insects, and Whiskered Terns. Above some rice fields there were swarms of Whiskered Terns. How nice it was to be in area where terns were so abundant!

During our last evening in the delta, we visited a place with shallows pools near the mouth of the river. More birds were added to our list. Particularly nice were Collared Pratincoles flying about, and Purple Swamphens with young. Unusual for Spain were 4 Great Egrets and some Glossy Ibis. Out of season was an Arctic Loon, or Black-throated Diver, flying over the sea by the rivermouth. You never really know what you're going to see during a birding outing in the Ebro Delta.

We then headed back, that evening, toward our hotel. To the west, there was ahead of us a most beautiful pink and blue sky just after sunset, with coastal mountains making a fine backdrop. We were travelling along a road, quite narrow, in an area of fields. And then, ahead of us, something rather odd-looking was moving across the road. It was a Hedgehog.
Not at all a hog or pig of any kind, actually a creature about a foot-long covered with spines. And not related to Porcupines either. It's completely different. Actually the Hedgehog is an Insectivores, most closely related to smaller Shrews and Moles.

We stopped the vehicle, backed-up, and got out. The animal was still on the road, but oddly, it had taken the shape of a BALL. Hedgehogs do that. They "curl". When danger's perceived, it's done because of an interesting ability. The Hedgehog has a larger skin, beneath which there is powerful muscle covering the back. The large skin is more strongly developed around the edges than at the center. It's only loosely connected to the body underneath. When it contracts, like a drawstring around the opening of a bag, the contents (that is most of the animal) is forced into the "bag" as the string is drawn tighter. When a hedgehog thus "curls", two muscles pull the skin just referred to over the head and rump. So, the BALL takes form.

The most distinctive feature of the Hedgehog is its spines. An average adult has about 5,000 of them, each about an inch long, and with a needle-sharp point. When the animal "curls", the skin with spines covers everything (including the otherwise unprotected underparts). Muscles that automatically stretch erect the spines, and so the tighter a Hedgehog curls, the spinier it becomes.

With a stick, we pushed the rolled-up ball of a Hedgehog off the road. It softly hissed. The animal's protection that's evolved over the ages would have been no protection at all if another vehicle would have come along that narrow road.

Our encounter with the Hedgehog was just one of the enjoyable aspects of our 2003 tours in Spain. Nearly 200 species of birds were seen. There's a complete complete listing of birds found during FONT Spain tours in this web-site. 

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Certainly the best birding highlight of all was when 4 Spanish Imperial Eagles appeared together in the sky above us, as we were traveling along an Extremadura country road. 
The Spanish Imperial Eagle is one of the rarest birds in the world. The current population estimate is just over 100 pairs in total. The 4 eagles that we saw in the sky above us were close. They circled, and flew about in various directions, again, and again, interacting with each other, and vocalizing as they did so. Two of the eagles were adults. Two were immatures. Apparently it was a family grouping. On the adults the notable white leading edge to the wing and white scapular patches were seen well. The juveniles were a brown-red coloration overall. What a nice way it was for us to see one of the world's rarest birds. They stayed with us for about 10 minutes before drifting off.

Actually we had already seen another Spanish Imperial Eagle (at another place) earlier that day. And the species was just one of a few eagles we saw. We enjoyed nice looks at Short-toed Eagle, and Booted Eagles (both light and dark morphs).

During the morning of the same day we saw the Imperials, we also had a tremendous look at the rare Eurasian Black Vulture, not high above us, against the clear blue sky. That species, also now called the Cinereous Vulture, is the European bird with the largest wingspan, and one of the 3 or 4 biggest raptors in the world. 4 species of Old World Vultures occur in Spain, including the Black, the Griffon, the Egyptian, and the Bearded (also called the Lammergeier). Old World Vultures are quite different from New World Vultures, in both structure and behavior. Actually, it's only the word "vulture" that they have in common. Old World Vultures are birds of more remote countryside, of which there is much in Spain. There are more vultures in Spain than in any other European country.

Spain is one of the best places, not only in Europe, but anywhere, for raptors. In addition to those just mentioned (the Spanish Imperial and other Eagles, and the Cinereous and other Vultures), there are numerous Kites (including the Black and the Red), the Montagu's Harrier, and the Hobby (just to mention a few of the species that occur in the country).

Another raptor that we enjoyed as much as any, was the Lesser Kestrel. Throughout much of its range, it has declined drastically in recent years. But in parts of Spain, large numbers still occur. The species is gregarious, and is often seen hawking for insects. Just outside the window of a castle (now a place to stay, a "parador"), we watched as we ate breakfast, Lesser Kestrels closely, coming and going from cavities in the rock wall. They perched on ledges. The male in the sunlight was beautiful, but all of the dozen or more that were seen at once, were wonderful to see.

At the end of the same day, we had another nice encounter, with a "nocturnal raptor", the Eagle Owl. It's a huge owl, with 10 times the mass of a Long-eared. Looking at a large rock cliff-face, we saw an adult quickly fly, at day's end, around a rock, out of view, as it went out to hunt. Young birds were also on the cliff-face. We could hear 2 of them begging, as their loud hissing voices echoed from the rocks. Then we saw one of the nearly-grown youngsters (already big) walking around on a ledge. In our scope, it was a nice sight, as the owl acted rather like a youngster, playing with sticks. As darkness fell, and the young owls continued their begging calls, a Red-necked Nightjar flew by between us and the cliff.

We've referred to some big birds, such as eagles, the large Black Vulture, and the Eagle Owl (large even when it's young). But there was another "biggie" that we saw well during our tour. It's the heaviest of all Europe's birds, the Great Bustard. We were so fortunate to see some of them closely. 5 males walked in a single-file procession, each keeping pace with the others, moving with an apparently bustard-style motion with their heads going back-and-forth. Another Great Bustard was seen even closer, a female, walking slowly along the edge of tall grass. A short while later, 4 young Great Bustards flew by us, somewhat high in the sky. Great Bustards fly like geese with eagle-wings. In all, we saw 11 Great Bustards.

There were a number of other birds during the tour that were wonderful to see. Among them:
A singing Bluethroat, seen well in good sunlight, in a beautiful mountain setting.
A Black-bellied Sandgrouse on a lakeside mudflat, before taking flight right by us.
Large numbers of White Storks at their nests on churches and other structures.
A family of Black Storks at a nest, in a wilder place, on a riverside cliff.
A brilliant little turquoise "jewel", called the Kingfisher.
Rollers, also with a brilliant blue, on their wings.
Bee-eaters, colorful throughout.
Strikingly-patterned Hoopoes.
The also nicely-patterned Woodchat Shrike.
The brightly-colored Golden Oriole.
And, a namesake of Spain, the Spanish Sparrow.

Not birds, but fun to see were Spanish Ibex (over 25), walking on high rocks in the Gredos Mountains - males, females, and young.

But, oh yes, in Iceland in early June there really is "no night". Close as it is to the Arctic Circle, during our entire time, there was no actual darkness. A bit dimmer at let's say 2 o'clock in the morning, but not dark enough for stars.

Some birds during those dimmer hours seemed to rest, but not all. Arctic Terns still screeched as they flew. A Short-eared Owl hunted. In bushes in small towns, the thrush known as the Redwing, gave its flute-like song. And throughout the land, those ever-present Redshanks called, and Snipe winnowed, as much as ever.

Phalaropes and Ptarmigan were among the birds in the northern Icelandic countryside. The former, daintily-built but boldly-patterned, were on roadside pools, the Red-necked Phalaropes. The Ptarmigan is one of 27 or so subspecies throughout the Northern Hemisphere of Rock Ptarmigan. That species ranges, in isolated populations, in mountains such as the Pyrenees and the Japanese Alps, and on islands, often remote, from the Aleutians to Newfoundland, Greenland, and Iceland. We saw them well, on the ground and in flight, the strong fast fliers they can be. And need to be, apparently, to escape their predator, the Gyrfalcon.

As with our previous tour number #10, a week earlier, we had the very good fortune of seeing Icelandic Gyrfalcons, at their nest, on a cliff-side in a river gorge. Through a scope, from the far side of the gorge, we saw well two white baby gyrs at the nest, and the accompanying light-gray adult female. We also saw the male, flying rapidly out above the adjacent vast terrain. His role, we assumed, was to catch a meal. Her role, in the gorge, to protect the chicks. It was a wonderful experience for us, in an area of wilderness.

A turn of the telescope, there, showed us another bird on its nest. It was a Pink-footed Goose that truly blended into the tall grass. Not much more than the head of it, and its mate a few feet away, were visible. But the distinctive beaks, of those geese ever so still, could be readily seen. Many of the Pink-footed Geese of the world nest in the remote highlands of Iceland. The rest, even more remotely, in Greenland.

We spent the night at a nearby farm, with facilities for guests, where outside the door there was "nothing" for miles, other than an open countryside with some sheep and Icelandic horse, and birds!

In contrast with the Pink-footed Geese that we saw, Greylag Geese were obvious and vocal throughout the countryside. Often with goslings.
Some Whooper Swans were in flocks, non-breeders. But a number of them were in pairs, some with their cygnets.
Along shorelines some of the plentiful Common Eiders had their ducklings. And there were waterbirds of various sorts on lakes, ponds, and streams, including colorful Horned Grebes in breeding attire, both Red-throated and Common Loons, and many, many, ducks.

Certainly among the best in the duck department was the Harlequin. The beautiful drakes that we saw, a few times, in fast-flowing river waters, were sights not to be forgotten. And never tiring to see.

In eastern North America, birders look at times for a single Barrow's Goldeneye in a flock of many Common Goldeneyes. In Iceland, we did the opposite. On a still-watered lake, in a magnificent volcanic setting, there was a large flock of Barrow's Goldeneyes. With maybe a few more males than females (that may have been on nearby nests). Among the big group, there were two male Common Goldeneyes, that species not common at all in Iceland.

There's something interesting about the nomenclature of the Barrow's Goldeneye. It's scientific name is Bucephala (as in Goldeneye) "islandica". Thus, named after Iceland, even though the species is most common in the American West. In Europe, the Barrow's Goldeneye occurs only in Iceland.

Regarding it's common name, the Barrow's Goldeneye is named after Sir John Barrow, an Englishman, who lived from 1764 to 1848. He was, for many of those years, the Second Secretary to the Admiralty in the Royal Navy, and quite instrumental, in London, for the British exploration in the search of the North-West Passage through northern North America.
Point Barrow in Alaska and the Barrow Sound and Barrow Straits in the Arctic are named after him.
From London, John Barrow was largely responsible for the Arctic expeditions by James Clark Ross, Edward Sabine, and John Franklin (all of whom had gulls named after them). But the duck, the Barrow's Goldeneye, was named after a man, back in London, who never actually saw it in the wild. We did, nicely, in Iceland, where it's said that about 800 pairs occur.

Of all the birds in Iceland, during the breeding season, it's the seabirds that are far and away the most plentiful. They are present in the millions.

One of our ventures, during the tour, that was most enjoyable was a walk on a cliff-top, along the north Iceland coast, on a peninsula, with a lighthouse, and Puffins. Their burrows, lined up like condos, were at our feet. Some of the comical-looking creatures flew out of the holes much like bullets as we approached. Others stood, a bit further from us, on the grass. Below, on the water of the ocean, there were hundreds and hundreds of Puffins. Some riding the waves, some diving for food, and others feebly flying about. It was for us another marvelous experience.

At another place along the Icelandic coast, on the south side of the island, other alcids were represented Murres (of 2 species) called Guillemots in Europe, the Black Guillemot (Americans and British agree on that name), and Razorbills. More Razorbills occur in Iceland than anywhere else in the world. Out to sea in the distance, from that spot, we could see a rocky island, called Eldey. It's reputed that on that island another alcid, now extinct, last occurred in 1844. It was the flightless Great Auk. Our tour was only a century and a half too late.

The Icelandic seabird that now seems the most common of all, let's say abundant, is the Northern Fulmar. It is in large numbers on cliffs throughout the island. Atop one particular cliff along the north coast, we had eye-to-eye looks at Fulmars on their nests, although we saw them more distantly many places. They are fun to watch in flight, with their alternate flapping and gliding, even in stiff winds.
But oddly, back in those days when the Great Auk occurred, the Fulmar was a rarity in Iceland, occurring in 1750 on only one offshore island (Grimsey), and then recorded nesting on mainland Iceland for the first time about 30 years later. Today, there are millions of Fulmars in Iceland in the summer.

Other seabirds that occur in big numbers, that we saw during the tour, were Kittiwakes, Gannets, Arctic Terns, and Lesser Black-backed and other Gulls including Glaucous.
And there were Parasitic Jaegers and Great Skuas.

We stayed a couple overnights in a small, kind of out-of-the-way, village, on the northern seacoast, where the hotel, favored by fishermen, was by the mouth of a river renowned for its salmon. The beach and the ground by the rivermouth was dark. It was an exact match for two dark-morph Parasitic Jaegers as they sat not far from a large noisy group of Arctic Terns. During the tour, we had great looks at both dark and light morph Parasitic Jaegers.
On that same dark soil, by the hotel and the river and ocean, one morning, a Great Skua sat.
Yes, Iceland was a great place to be.

1 - Atlantic Puffin
2 - Gyrfalcon
3 - Harlequin Duck
4 - Horned Grebe
5 - Pink-footed Goose
6 - Barrow's Goldeneye
7 - Red-necked Phalarope
8 - Great Skua
9 - Snow Bunting
10 - Black-tailed Godwit

In all, 20 species of birds received votes. In all, nearly 70 species were seen.

But it was not just the birds, but other aspects also, that made it a fine tour indeed, during which we had a terrific time.

During the week in Sweden, there's one of the most phenomenal autumn migration of birds anywhere, with large numbers of raptors, waterbirds, shorebirds, and landbirds funneling through the southern tip of the country. It's a great birding experience.

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All of the birds we hoped for were seen, and more!

The morning of the last day in May, in one of our favorite Icelandic fishing towns, Stykkisholmur, began with a sunrise at 330am. We were up, as it was not an ordinary sunrise that day. As the large, orange ball near the horizon was going higher, the shadow of the moon began to cross it. Think of an orange half, then crescent sun.
Due to the eclipse's path being by the Arctic Circle, the moon's shadow moved across the sun in the direction opposite that of "normal solar eclipses". The approximately 3-minute period of totality was just after 4am. During that period, the sky was darker than it had been just after 3am.

One of our most-exciting times during this Iceland tour was by another rocky stream, out in some vast open countryside. Just below a waterfall, the stream went through a deep, rocky gorge. From one side, we had a telescope view that nearly filled the frame, of a light-colored, female Gyrfalcon on a ledge, next to 2 fluffy, white Gyrfalcon fledglings. We'll never forget that sight.

Later that day, we were walking in an Icelandic forest of mostly short conifers. There are not many forests in Iceland, but there are some. In it, Icelandic Redpolls and Redwings (a European thrush) were common. But there were also the high, wispy sounds of another bird, Europe's smallest, the Goldcrest, one of the kinglets. Close to us. We saw one with the gold crest, and then another fluttering, just learning to fly. What bird is smaller than the Goldcrest? A baby Goldcrest. The species was found to breed in Iceland only as recently as 1999.

A couple days earlier, we saw Iceland's largest bird, a female White-tailed Eagle on its nest. The male stood, in the open, on a nearby ledge. The pair on a rocky island on a big bay. We saw the birds during a wonderful boat-ride during which we also saw thousands of Puffins, on clifftops, on the surface of the water, and in flight. Other North Atlantic alcids we saw comparably well during the tour.

When we were standing on a clifftop, during another sunny day, we looked down at Fulmars (many of them) sitting on their nests. Further down, on the surface of the ocean, we saw Great Skua feeding on a floating carcass, Red-throated Loons, and many, many Eiders.

A few miles further, along a dirt road, we had the best possible look at a pair of Rock Ptarmigans, the mostly-white male with bright red eyebrows. The brown female blended in with the terrain. Both were just outside the windows of our van.

Further along, during our ride, were Red-necked Phalaropes, also close, spinning around on roadside pools. After passing through one of a number of Arctic Tern colonies, we saw, in a stony area, some nice Snow Buntings in breeding plumage.

Along another road that day, in an area of meadows, we had a close encounter with a Short-eared Owl, as more Snipe than imaginable were winnowing in the sky. At one time, 14 snipe were counted above us. Ravens flew by, adding their sounds to the mix.

Over 70 species of birds breed in Iceland. We saw nearly all. 

The list of vagrants in Iceland is long, and we came across a couple Great Crested Grebe and Grey Heron (the heron occurring more normally in Iceland in the winter). Migrants still on their way farther north included shorebird flocks with Turnstones, Sanderling, and Red Knot.

Lastly, we were fortunate in May to see an Iceland Gull in Iceland. That species actually nests, not in Iceland, but further north in Greenland.

Before the round red sun came above the horizon on Easter morning, we were watching, during the first light of day, the round red neck-sacs of male Lesser Prairie Chickens inflate as the birds went through the postures and maneuvers of their displays. They would run about, turn around, seem to stamp their feet, and make an assortment of sounds, some with a higher pitch, and some like bubbling hoots, as they did their routine. On the natural grassland, where we sat ever so quietly in our van, we observed the birds just outside our windows. It was quite a show. There were 4 Lesser Prairie Chickens on their lek. We had heard them first, making their sounds, when it was still dark. When lightness came, they appeared, as if on queue, on the open knoll that they favored for their displaying. One of the four birds would repeatedly rise to the top of a low bush, calling as he held on with one foot. With his red neck-sac pulsating, the red sun rose into the dawn sky behind him.

We were close to the old Santa Fe Trail, a route used by the European settlers as they traveled west across America in the early 1800's. During those days, as the settlers moved across the plains, Lesser Prairie Chickens were common, even abundant, around them. In the less than 200 years since then, the species has declined substantially. That decline is thought to be over 90% since the 19th Century, and, more recently, nearly 80% since the early 1960's.

In 1980, Lesser Prairie Chickens occupied only 8% of their original range (which was historically throughout the southwest Great Plains, in southeast Colorado, southwest Kansas, western Oklahoma, northern Texas, and eastern New Mexico). Now, it is only in small, scattered populations.

There were an estimated 50,000 birds in total in 1980. About 20 years later, in 1979, the population was estimated as 10,000 to 25,000, mostly in northwest Texas and Kansas.

Western Kansas, open and flat, is what might be called an "in-between" type of place. We journeyed north the entire width of the state (as we headed toward Greater Prairie Chicken territory). In southern Kansas, we were at the western edge of the Central Time Zone, until for some reason, we crossed an invisible line, where we were, while still in Kansas, into the Mountain Time Zone (the same as that in Colorado a few miles to the west). Birds were also a blend of east-west. There were Eastern Bluebirds and Western Meadowlarks, Eastern as well as Say's Phoebes, and even Blue Jays at the western edge of their range. By a stream, in a small grove of trees, there were both "Myrtle" and "Audubon's" Yellow-rumped Warblers. And we saw Flickers fly, some with yellow and others with red underwings.

During our ride north in western Kansas, we observed Eurasian Collared-Doves, spreading northwest from as far as Florida, and Great-tailed Grackles, another species spreading north from Oklahoma and Texas.

Swainson's Hawks were numerous in the clear blue skies. They had just travelled north from Argentina in South America.

By a small woodland, we encountered a Prairie Falcon quickly flying low across our path, until it landed in one of the trees just ahead of us. From there, it continued on just as quickly.

In another group of trees, along the highway, by a stream and a small rocky hillside, close to Nebraska (in an area not as flat as most of the Kansas we saw), we noted in a large stick nest 3 heads of young Great Horned Owls, with an adult sitting in the open nearby. Our day in Kansas, that had begun with the performances of Prairie Chickens, was an interesting one.

Early the following morning we were there again, on that open area, with the Greater Prairie Chickens as they performed. From 20 to 30 of them, at various times, were around us. Their droning sound was continuous. (It's quite different than the vocalization of the Lesser Prairie Chicken.) During their booming displays, the Greater Prairie Chickens engaged in a complex series of postures and maneuvers, with their heads drawn, orange air-sacs inflated, their pinnae (pointed feathers on the head) erect and forward, and their tails cocked. They would quickly fan those tails open at the beginning and end of each display sequence. Also notable to us, during our morning visit with the chickens, were males facing each other, in pairs, and acting combatively.

We and the chickens were not alone on the grassy field. There was also a large herd of mostly black cattle that was, to say the least, curious about our vehicle. So much so that the cattle surrounded us for a while, rubbing against the van and some even licking mud from the bumper. It was certainly an odd experience. But as to the cattle, the prairie chickens paid little heed, continuing to engage in their activities. That was even as the cattle walked away from us, across the field, among the wild displaying chickens. To us it seemed somewhat as we imagined it would have been years ago when prairie chickens shared grasslands with the buffalo, when both were abundant.

There were 3 races of Greater Prairie Chickens. One, in eastern North America (from Boston to Washington), known as the Heath Hen, was extirpated on the mainland bout 1835. It continued to survive, later, on the offshore Massachusetts island of Martha's Vineyard, until 1932 when that race became extinct.

Now, 2 races remain, but just barely. The "Attwater's Greater Prairie Chicken" of the Texas coast declined from 8,700 birds in 1937 to 1,070 in 1967. About 30 years later (in 1998), only 56 individuals survived, in 3 isolated populations.

We were most appreciative to our Colorado hosts for allowing us onto their property to experience some of the Greater Prairie Chickens still, fortunately, common there.

Elsewhere in eastern Colorado, there's an extensive area of natural grasslands, without cattle (and without prairie-chickens), but with a number of birds that we were glad to see well. Among them were both displaying McCown's and Chestnut-collared Longspurs, a close pair of Mountain Plovers, some Brewer's Sparrows, and a duo of Burrowing Owls at home in a former prairie dog town.

We headed west toward the sage country of northwestern Colorado, not as we would have, through a Rocky Mountain pass in Colorado, but rather on an interstate in adjacent Wyoming. During a period of 9 days (5 of them overlapping with our tour), there was a total of 51 inches of snow in areas of the Rockies west of Denver.

On the ground, there were McCown's Longspurs. Back in Colorado, he had anticipated them. Here, as unexpected birds, we enjoyed them all the more.

Mammals in the sunlight included Pronghorn, Beaver, Snowshoe Hare, Mule Deer, and the Wyoming Ground Squirrel.

In a forested area, higher in the mountains of Wyoming, we found a feeder with Evening Grosbeaks, Cassin's Finches, Pine Siskins, Mountain Chickadees, and "Gray-headed" Juncos. It was to be the first of three good "bird feeding areas" for us in the mountains during our tour.

We went a morning later than planned for the lekking, in the early hours, of the Greater Sage-Grouse, the largest grouse in North America. And we were glad we had changed our plans. Not only did we go to the "traditional" site (where most observers go) for the performing grouse, we also had been advised by a local ranch owner to go to another road nearby. At that location, the grouse came right by the edge of the road. We stayed quietly in our van, and the Sage Grouse performed all around us, just feet away. In all, that morning, we counted on the ground more than 50 grouse, mostly males, but also some females. Both, again, close to us, and seemingly oblivious to us.

What they were not oblivious to, was an adult Golden Eagle that flew in over the open countryside, toward us and the grouse. Sage Grouse that we had been observing, and others back in the sage that were out of view, flew up quickly and headed in all directions. It was quite an experience after watching the grouse as well as we did for about an hour.

In groups, male Sage Grouse, at their lekking sites, adapt a remarkable appearance. They elevate and spread their tails to become spiked fans, backed by a ball of white-spots on black undertail coverts. They draw their heads back, and inflate their chests (giving an appearance of two large eggs "over-easy"). Their stringy black filoplumes become erect, and their bare chest patches pump, along with double-hooting and pumping sounds. The birds, moving forward, produce swishing sounds, as drooped wings bush against stiff breast feathers.

It was quite a morning for us before breakfast. On our way back to town and the restaurant, a herd of elk went by us, heading up a hill.

The next morning we enjoyed yet another early-morning show of grouse, that many in our group found just as enjoyable to watch. With the help of a good local guide, we saw atop on a knoll, the amusing antics of a group of male Sharp-tailed Grouse. Amusing, as they appear rather like "wind-up dolls", strutting together in unison, stopping at once, and then, together starting up again. They do their postures and maneuvers with cocked and spread tails. They also spread their wings forward, going into their head-down synchronized "clockwork runs" with tail-rattling and some remarkable vocalizations.

That morning began for us, before dawn, with the bugling of an elk, nearby.

Also in the area, we saw an adult Bald Eagle by its nest, and Sandhill Cranes, all in pairs. One was seen on its nest.

The next morning was that of the rarest of the grouse during our tour. The Gunnison Sage-Grouse, is similar to the Greater Sage-Grouse, but about 30 per cent smaller. And it is restricted to the smallest of the ranges of the American grouse, only occurring locally in a part of southwest Colorado and adjacent Utah. The Gunnison Sage-Grouse is a newly-described species.

Formerly thought to have been more widespread (possibly in areas of New Mexico, Arizona, Kansas, and Oklahoma), now the Gunnison Sage-Grouse is only in 6 or 7 Colorado counties and one in Utah. The entire population is estimated as being less than 5,000 birds, with most in the Gunnison Basin of Colorado. Elsewhere numbers are very few. In Utah, there may only be 150.

Near Gunnison, we saw the grouse, at a site they favor, before dawn. When it was still dark, we heard there, among other sounds, the winnowing of snipe, the calling of Killdeer, and the howling of coyotes. First, the coyote howls were faint. Then they were louder. As we were watching, through our scopes, the Gunnison Sage-Grouse at their lek, they suddenly dispersed. And then through our field of view, there was a pack of 4 Coyotes moving to the left. By 6am that morning, the display of the Gunnison Sage-Grouse was over.

The previous day, on our way to Gunnison, in coniferous forest of higher country, we stopped by a small lodge with a sign that it was open all-year. In a tree, by the parking lot, there was a single bird, a Clark's Nutcracker. One of our group members had thoughtfully brought some peanuts from home. We put some onto the parking lot, and within moments there were as many as 20 birds almost at our feet, mostly Clark's Nutcrackers, but also Gray Jays, some Steller's Jays, and a Raven or two. All were corvids.

In fact, in Colorado, we did a "Corvid-Sweep". In addition to the 4 species just noted, we saw at various places Blue Jay (in northeast CO), Western Scrub-Jay (in northwest CO), what's now the American (or Black-billed) Magpie ("split" from the Eurasian bird), the American Crow, and the Chihuahuan Raven.

As we were driving east from Gunnison, through our area of pines, a blue bird flew across the road in front of us. It was a Pinyon Jay. We stopped. Around us, then there were many Pinyon Jays, including some, outside our van window, nearly "at our feet" (without peanuts).

We were heading east, and north, from Gunnison, during our last afternoon of the tour, toward the Lovelands Pass over the Continental Divide. A friend had told us that some White-tailed Ptarmigan had been seen there, a day or so previously, by skiers (who were birders). When we got there we certainly found skiers (many of them). It was a beautiful day at the Pass.

Most of us, in our group, left, following that enjoyable experience at the feeder, to head back East to homes and work, departing Colorado the following morning after a great tour.

Upcoming FONT Birding Tours in Colorado

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To those of us now in the northern US, and elsewhere where winter has lingered this year, it can be said that the northbound birds of spring are coming - yes, they really are!

As we looked out toward the sea, there was a constant stream of birds in flight, from right to left, that is heading north. Barn and other Swallows, Chimney Swifts, and Eastern Kingbirds were all in the procession. There were hundreds and hundreds, even probably thousands of birds. In the trees around the restaurant, Rose-breasted Grosbeaks and both Baltimore and Orchard Orioles came and went. They, too, heading north to the forests, pastures, and other habitats in North America. The recent weather in the North notwithstanding, the birds of spring will be there on schedule.

As we left that restaurant that morning, for the van, an oriole was singing in the tree above. We could see it was a bird that would stay in the area, not having the urge to migrate north. The fine song came from a Spot-breasted Oriole. There was a pair of them in the tree.

During the day, at Copan, we saw an estimated couple hundred orioles. How nice for trees to be filled with such color.

Also in those trees by the temples, there were Pink-throated Becards (also common), Golden-fronted and other Woodpeckers, Tityras, and Motmots (the Turquoise-browed another splash of color!). In the trees, there were smaller splashes of color, in the form of warblers. There were many Magnolias.

At the top of the temples, we found ourselves eye-to-eye with White-fronted Parrots and Aztec (or Olive-throated) Parakeets.

Aztec Parakeet,
during FONT's Honduras Birding Tour, March 2003.
(Photo by Marie Z. Gardner - © all rights reserved)

The next day, as we ascended a nearby dirt road higher into the mountains, we encountered yet another oriole, the Yellow-backed (overall, yellow and black), and it's all-black cousin the Yellow-billed Cacique (it, all-black except the bill). Also yellow-and-black were Black-headed Siskins and Lesser Goldfinches. In the pine trees, there were Grace's and Olive Warblers that would stay, Black-throated Greens that would go to eastern North America, and a Red-faced Warbler that would likely go north to Mexico. Overhead, that day, a flock of Chestnut-collared Swifts kettled, and a group of Broad-winged Hawks continued on their way.

Earlier I mentioned Oropendolas, large icterids related to Orioles. In the Honduran hills, we came across a flock of Chestnut-headed Oropendolas. They tamely stayed by us. Not far away there were Green Jays and Brown Jays, the latter more obvious, certainly more noisy.

In the lowlands, Montezuma Oropendolas were by their nests that dangle like stockings. At one particular place in that area, in a very large tree, there was an big, active colony of these birds, big themselves, coming and going, with their bright yellow tails. Their loud gurgling sounds were constant.

   
The hanging nests (left) of the Montezume Oropendola (right).
(Photos by Marie Z. Gardner - © all rights reserved)

But even so, in the background, we could hear the Little Tinamou. And we certainly had no trouble seeing the brightly-colored Keel-billed Toucans in the air and the smaller, yet also also colorful, Golden-hooded Tanagers in the trees. Brown-crested Flycatchers were also nesting in a tree near the oropendolas, where also there were Sulphur-bellied and Piratic Flycatchers staking claims to their spots. The latter two flycatchers are migrants, that would not go to on to North America. They came from South America.

Along the road between the beach and the highway (where again there were no people, only birds), we had an enjoyable end-of-a-day. As twilight fell, a lone Yellow-headed Amazon (a large parrot) flew by. A Bare-throated Tiger-Heron flew along a channel. A wild Muscovy Duck flew up and lit in a tree. Egrets, of various kinds, were in the sky, heading to their roosts. As many as 15 Lesser Nighthawks were flying about against that beautiful sky above us, just after sunset. From a nearby marsh, Gray-breasted Wood-Rails gave their raucous evening calls. Then, as it was getting dark, a half-dozen or so Pauraques gave their calls, as did one Yucatan Nightjar, from the scrubby ground not far away. The Yucatan Nightjar (yes, a bird that occurs almost entirely on the Yucatan Peninsula) was only discovered to be in Honduras about 10 years, first found not far from ours, in a similar habitat.

Other highlights of the tour included both Fulvous and Black-bellied Whistling-Ducks (at one place about a thousand of the latter together), Limpkins by a lake, and hummingbirds, of many kinds, feeding in "inga trees" in bloom.

We had already found all the island's endemics that we had expected to see. So, we were travelling upward into the hills, on a rough road toward a larimar mine, in the southwest part of the island, to a place that's normally good for quail-doves. We were hoping for a good look at a Key West Quail-Dove, walking about on the dry forest floor, feeding on fallen wild oranges.

But the steep dirt road was not good. So, we stopped. Local people, roadside, told us it only would get worse. We decided to turn back. How fortunate it was that we did, as soon, we saw, to our left, 3 hawks soaring together in circles over a valley. We were able to view them in the telescope before they drifted off along a ridge. They were small buteos, notably smaller that Red-tails. The birds were dark above and creamy white below. Their tails were relatively short. The birds, soaring with flat wings, were juvenile Ridgway's Hawks. One appeared a bit larger than the others. So, there were 2 males and a female.

The Ridgway's is one of the world's rarest raptors. We've looked for it previously in the Dominican Republic without success. Our searches in the past were in the northeast part of the island, in supposedly the stronghold for the species. Even though there have been records, in recent years, in the southwestern Dominican Republic, we really did not anticipate seeing the phantom called the Ridgway's Hawk. Interestingly, a nest of the bird was found in 1997 in the area of the southwestern Dominican Republic, not far from our sighting, in the lower Baoruco Mountains. The hawk ranges from sea-level up to about 2,000 meters. Our encounter was not far from the coast, within that altitudinal range.

In the book "Raptors of the World" by Ferguson-Lee & Christie, it's said that the species tends to be solitary or in pairs, but that sometimes 3 or 4 may be seen soaring together, as we saw them early that clear morning.

Birdlife International indicates that the total population of the species has been estimated recently to be from 50 to 250 individuals. However, it's assumed now that the population probably does not reach three figures.How lucky we were!

Also during our recent Dominican Republic tour, there were some other notable moments.
One of these was in another, higher area of the Baoruco Mountains, after dark. We had already heard the calls of the Least Poorwill (a small nightjar not known during much of the 20th Century) and the Hispaniolan Nightjar. Then we heard, not too far away, but softly, the distinctive notes of the Northern Potoo, a bird known in the Dominican Republic as "Don Juan Grande" (or big Mr. John). By the way, known in that country as just simply "Don Juan" is the Chuck-will's-Widow, a bird that winters on the island.
When we heard the call of the potoo, we played its call on our tape recorder. The large bird flew over us twice, and then landed, beneath the full moon, on a snag just above us. It called a few times. Its big yellow eyes were alert. But as time went by, those eyes seemed to ignore us, paying much attention to insects flying by near the treetop. A few times the potoo would sally out and catch a bug.

Then, in the distance, there was another call. Faintly, it was that of the Ashy-faced Owl, a Hispaniolan endemic similar to a Barn Owl, but with a gray (ashy) face, and more orange hue overall. We played that tape, and the owl flew in. It perched on another branch just above us, looking down, as we looked up at its ashy face. A beautiful owl it was. Both it and the potoo, were, at the same time, close together on their respective snag and branch. Both were beneath the bright full moon.

The Caribbean island of Hispaniola has a number of endemics (about 25). Some of them are common and widespread, such as the Hispaniolan Woodpecker and the Palmchat (the latter, unique, a single species in a family endemic to the island). Other Hispaniolan endemics are rare.
A number of them are considered "threatened" by Birdlife International.
We found virtually all of the island's endemics (except for the Gray-crowned Palm-Tanager that's mostly in Haiti).

Our encounter with the rare LaSelle's Thrush was brief. Another skulker, the Chat-Tanager, was seen ascending in a branchy tangle next to us before it disappeared. Another time, in dense cover, a Chat-Tanager was loudly singing as close to us as it could be. But it was invisible until it flew as a dart across the road in front of us. We called it the "chocolate rocket". (There have been as many as 4 regional populations of Chat-Tanagers, now split into 2 species. What we called the "chocolate rocket" is now called by taxonomists, the Western Chat-Tanager.)

Another rare endemic played hide-and-seek with us for a while, but then we saw it well. Called locally the "Cua" after its call, it's more properly known as the Bay-breasted Cuckoo. The bird is about 20 inches long, and it's odd how such a large bird can at times be so difficult to see. Once we saw it, however, it was beautiful.

Also nice to see was the colorful Hispaniolan Trogon. Among the other endemics, we saw 2 species of Todies (the Narrow-billed and the Broad-billed) , 2 species of crows (both rare), a parakeet and a parrot, the Hispaniolan Lizard-Cuckoo (with its red-rimmed eyes), a pewee, the Flat-billed Vireo (that was thought at one time to have been a flycatcher), the Ground and the White-winged Warblers (the latter can be elusive), the Black-crowned Palm-Tanager (known locally as "Cuatros Ojos" or Four Eyes), the Hispaniolan Spindalis (one of 4 Caribbean species that were once lumped as the Stripe-headed Tanager), a hummingbird known as the Hispaniolan Emerald, and also small, a piculet. It's interesting that the Antillean Piculet has a recorded history that goes back further than nearly that of any other bird, preserved as a fossil in amber. Piculets must have given their nifty calls in the Hispaniolan forest a long, long time ago.

There were a couple other experiences during our Dominican Republic tour that were particularly memorable.

One was onboard a boat, on a shallow lake near the sea, late in the afternoon. The motor was off. The boatman pushed the boat quietly in the water. The Sun was behind our backs. In front of us, in perfect light, there were groups of richly-pink flamingos walking about on long legs while with another shade of pink was in flocks of Roseate Spoonbills, feeding with their bills back and forth in the water.

All of the Reddish Egrets that we saw during the tour were the white morph. Their pink was on their thick bills. It's always entertaining to watch Reddish Egrets dance as they feed.

The other experience that we'll long remember was our walk in Haiti. We had been at a lake, a large salty lake about 200 feet below sea-level in the Dominican Republic. Our local guide suggested we go to just beyond the far-western end of the lake to the Haitian border. We walked with him , from the crossing, to another lake in Haiti, where he assured us there would be birds. And there were. Thousands of them. Mostly Caribbean Coots, but also a number of ducks of various species White-cheeked Pintails, Northern Shovelers, Blue-winged Teal, Lesser Scaup, and Ruddy Ducks (the Caribbean form with more black on the head). Shorebirds were plentiful. Among them were many Black-necked Stilts, and a flock of Long-billed Dowitchers (that gave their single call-notes as they flew). Belted Kingfisher, Osprey, and various egrets were also in the mix. There must have been fish in that lake in Haiti.
We walked back, through the border crossing, to the Dominican Republic.

135 species of birds were found during our tour. A list of Hispaniolan birds (with local Haitian and Dominican Republic names for those we saw in each country) is in our FONT web-site.

Also in the web-site, itineraries for our future Hispaniola birding tours, with another tour in the Dominican Republic this year, May 4-11.

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Puerto Rico
March 2003

The following account written by Armas Hill, leader of the tour.

During the first day of that tour (late in the day, near the airport, following the arrival of all of the participants), a bird not seen during any of our previous Puerto Rico tours was seen along the seacoast near San Juan, a Red Knot. That species does not commonly occur in Puerto Rico in March.

The next morning, along the coast at San Juan, near the fort in the old city, there was a group of White-tailed Tropicbirds flying about. It was to be first of two groups of White-tailed Tropicbirds for us that day. Later we had a seafood lunch at an outside restaurant atop a coastal cliff further west on the island. Over the sea by the restaurant, we tallied as many as 10 White-tailed Tropicbirds in flight.

There are 16 species of birds endemic to the Puerto Rico and the nearby Virgin Islands. Of those, today 15 occur only in Puerto Rico. We saw all of them during our tour, except the Puerto Rican Parrot (ultra-rare now in the wild, and very hard to see in the restricted area where it nests in March). But all of the other endemics were seen, nearly all of them seen very well.

Even the Elfin Wood Warbler, a denizen of dense vegetation, not even known to science until about 30 years ago, was seen well.

Among the rarest of the endemics, the Puerto Rican Nightjar was seen quickly in flight above us, but it was seen. Actually, that evening just after sunset, the experience was wonderful. We walked a trail in the dry forest, heading uphill away from the sea. As darkness was falling, diurnal bird sounds were diminishing. Bats were quickly flying by us from their diurnal roost. Then, the call was heard of the rare Puerto Rican Nightjar, a bird "re-discovered" in 1961. Prior to that year, it was only known from fossils in a cave and a single specimen taken back in 1888. As we walked along the trail, we heard maybe 10 of the nightjars, some of them close, some further away. Responding to a tape, one flew over. The species normally hunts in flight for insects low above the ground, in the dense thickets of its restricted range. Our walk that night, beneath a clear sky filled with bright stars, and with the calls around us of a bird that was thought for years to be extinct, was something to remember.

Another of the rarest of worlds, endemic only to southwestern Puerto Rico, was seen well. The Yellow-shouldered Blackbird we normally see, during our tours, in a setting that can be said to be about as comfortable as it gets, poolside, by our seaside hotel. The bird, in the morning (and other times) frequents the palm trees there.

During our March '03 tour, in addition to seeing it there (according to plan), we also encountered the Yellow-shouldered Blackbird somewhat unexpectedly along the coast at a dry and hot spot adjacent to some salt flats. As we were walking in the afternoon by the flats (looking for Snowy Plover), 2 of the rare Yellow-shouldered Blackbirds flew in front us. They were heading to a pile of let's say fruit (a feeder of sorts) by a shack. We had very close looks at the birds feeding on the ground.

A short while later that afternoon, a few miles down the coastal dirt road, by a lagoon, also on the ground was a group of birds, tamely tuckered down in the sand. There were about 30 plovers, 5 of them Semipalmated, but 25 of them Wilson's Plovers in an assortment of plumages. A nice sight.

Also in southwestern Puerto Rico, but in a completely different habitat, there were some fine waterbirds at a small fresh-water marsh. In the thick surface vegetation of the small pond, heads of male and female Masked Ducks (2 pairs) were seen. On that surface, Soras walked and fed. Around the pond's edge, there were both both Moorhens and Purple Gallinules. Also at the little aquatic oasis, there were grebes, herons of various sorts, and some shorebirds, among them a Solitary Sandpiper or two (making it not so solitary).

On the relatively small island of Puerto Rico, in addition to the endemics and other native Caribbean birds, and some migrants from North America (such as a Hooded Warbler we saw in a woods in company with a resident Adelaide's Warbler), there were some birds that have lived there in the wild for years, having come originally from some far-flung places around the world. Puerto Rico is not over-run with such exotics, but it's possible to see some birds from distant places (saving, you might say, the expense of travelling afar). Accordingly, we saw the Troupial from Venezuela, the Monk Parakeet from Argentina, the Ringed Turtle-Dove from the Middle East, the Warbling Silverbill from southern Asia, the Bronze Mannikin (brought in the 1800's) from Africa, and the Orange-cheeked Waxbill from Africa as well. The House Sparrow, in recent years, has been spreading and increasing in Puerto Rico more than any of the other introduced species just mentioned.

Of course what we aim to see during the tour is not the avian exotics, but rather the natives, including the endemics and Caribbean specialties. And that we did. Mentioning just a few more, we saw such niceties as hummingbirds known as the Antillean Mango and Green-throated Carib, in addition to the Antillean Crested Hummingbird. And also what's now called the Antillean Euphonia (it used to be called the Blue-hooded Euphonia). Names and taxonomy do change. What we now call the Puerto Rican Spindalis was once referred to as the Stripe-headed Tanager. The native oriole on Puerto Rico, once aligned with a population in Central America and called the Black-cowled Oriole, has been shown to have more affinities with the Lesser Antillean orioles, and not to be the same as the bird on Hispaniola (also formerly conspecific with the Black-cowled Oriole). New books and lists, with new names, will continue to be made.

A list of 185 species of birds found during FONT Puerto Rico tours is in our web-site along with upcoming tour itineraries in the "Caribbean section".

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In the Lesser Antillean Islands, birds include endemics and specialties. We saw all of those we sought.

The hummingbirds on the islands were great to see two species of colorful Caribs, the nifty Antillean Crested, and the beautiful Blue-headed.

Also wonderful to see and hear was the Rufous-throated Solitaire, as it sat by us on a branch in the forest, with a wide mouth as it sounded much like a flute.

Each of the three Lesser Antillean Islands we visited is attractive and picturesque in its own way, but Dominica is extraordinary, since it still has a large amount of forest. With rugged topography, the enchanting island is also so very green. In the Dominican forest, the Forest Thrush continues in fairly good numbers. (On other islands it has declined or disappeared.) One that we saw very well was one of our best birds of the tour.

One of the rarest of the specialties is the White-breasted Thrasher (it's one of the rarest of birds in the world, with just a total population of maybe a couple hundred). Usually close to the ground, it occurs in the dry forest of St. Lucia. We saw 2 together, at the base of a slanted tree trunk, close to us. These thrashers really do thrash, moving ground clutter aside as they feed.

In the trees, among the most fascinating birds to be seen were the tremblers. And yes, they really do tremble. That is they shake their wings, appearing nervous or neurotic. They're probably neither, but who knows why they do it.
On St. Lucia, we watched the Gray Trembler and the St. Lucia Oriole alternately feeding on a large fruit in a tree.
On St. Vincent and Dominica, the Brown Trembler entertained us as it walked on tree branches, or on the ground, trembling as it went.
The forementioned tremblers and thrasher are among 5 species of thrashers on the Lesser Antillean Islands.

Two species of warblers are with limited ranges, the Whistling Warbler on Saint Vincent, and the Plumbeous Warbler on Dominica. We saw both well.

On Saint Lucia, an attractive warbler, now an endemic, is called the Saint Lucia Warbler. Formerly considered part of the Adelaide's Warbler of Puerto Rico. The species is now one of a few birds (that are endemic) named after the island of St. Lucia. In addition to the Saint Lucia Oriole, there's also the Saint Lucia Black Finch (at one time confused by distant taxonomists with Galapagos Finches), the Saint Lucia Pewee, a dapper nearly apricot-colored bird, and the "Saint Lucia Wren", that's been considered part of the House Wren, thought it's call different than that of the North American House Wren. All of these "Saint Lucia birds" were seen during our tour.

Also interesting on Saint Lucia, we encountered, at a pond, a mixed flock of Snowy and Little Egrets. There were 3 Little Egrets, one with the long plume of breeding plumage. Little Egrets have been nesting on another Lesser Antillean Island, Barbados.
At the same pond , there was another interesting flock (if 2 birds is considered a flock). Two plovers were together, one a