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.)

Cock-of-the-Rock Extravaganza—with Video! (Colombia Birding Part 5)

We wrap up our Colombian birding blogs with a terrific post by Roger Kohn, sharing his recent experiences with one of South America’s most famous birds—the Andean Cock-of-the-Rock. If you’ve been reading recent posts, you know that in addition to being a past guest contributor to FSB, Roger was the evil genius behind getting Sneed to Colombia! Alas, an injury kept Sneed from seeing the cock-of-the-rock this time around, but Roger was able to experience these wondrous birds in full glory. He even took an awesome video of a male Andean COTR that’s almost like being there. Our big thanks go out to Roger, and we know you will enjoy this post. Oh, and be sure to watch the Cock-of-the-Rock video below!

Four a.m. My cell phone alarm chirped and the screen lit up and pierced the early morning blackness, rousting me from a sound sleep. If you want to see one of the iconic birds of the Andes, you’d better be dragging yourself out of bed well before dawn!

Our guide Luis with Roger before they went slippin’ and a slidin’ down to see one of South America’s most iconic birds.

Today was one of the most anticipated days of my Colombia birding expedition. Sneed and I would visit “Alto Anchicayá – El Descanso,” commonly referred to as Doña Dora’s place. The owner, Doña Dora, began her business by selling empanadas and coffee to workers on their way to and from a nearby hydro-electric facility. The small restaurant quickly became popular with birders because its location, perched in the cloud forest at about 4,000 feet above sea level in Colombia’s Western Andes, attracts a huge variety of bird species to its feeders and offers some of the best birding in South America. As if that weren’t enough, birders have the opportunity to see the Andean Cock-of-the-Rock, a bizarre-looking bird that inhabits narrow ribbons of cloud forest slicing through the Andes of Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, Colombia, and Venezuela.

A male Andean Cock-of-the-Rock in its full, bizarro glory!

After Sneed and I downed a quick cup of coffee and a muffin, our guide Luis picked us up at the Araucana Lodge (see “Video Post: A Visit to Araucana Lodge”) at 4:30 a.m. Light rain fell as we drove west for about 50 minutes. Our destination? An Andean Cock-of-the-Rock lek located in steep terrain below Doña Dora’s place.

Leks are assembly areas where males of some bird species, including Greater Sage-Grouse and Greater Prairie-Chickens in North America, perform courtship displays to attract prospective mates. At this time of year, we were pretty much guaranteed of seeing the Andean Cock-of-the-Rock between approximately 6 and 7 a.m.; the only question was whether we would see both sexes or only males.

Arriving at Doña Dora’s, the last raindrops fell as we gathered our walking sticks and prepared for the hike down to the lek. I was a little nervous, having heard that the trail is rough and steep. The recent rain added an additional layer of concern. Turning on our headlamps, Luis, David—a visiting birder from Spain—and I departed in the darkness. Sneed, nursing a sore leg and having already seen the Andean Cock-of-the-rock in Peru, opted to skip the hike and instead get an early start birding at Doña Dora’s.

Tawny-breasted Flycatcher, one of five flycatchers Roger saw on his ACOR trek.

Fortunately, the trail wasn’t as treacherous as I feared. The ground was damp, but the soil and leaves seemed to have absorbed most of the rainfall, so the trail didn’t have much mud and standing water. Steps built into the trail, along with a rubber handrail, made the descent very do-able. Pausing at the moth trap, a great birding area we would visit on the way back up, we turned off our headlamps as the first light of the day penetrated the cloud forest, and made our final push. About 25 minutes after we had departed, we arrived at the lek, an area with lots of open space for the birds to strut their stuff, and a small shelter with benches for birdwatchers.

Buff-rumped Warbler, a New World warbler species that does NOT migrate to the US—or anywhere else for that matter.

Immediately we saw two male Andean Cock-of-the-rocks, then three, and eventually five. These were the strangest-looking birds I’ve ever seen — veritable avian aliens. Bright red on the head and chest, black wings, silver tertiary feathers in the back, large pale staring eyes, a helmet-like round crest on the head with their bills only barely visible at certain angles, and bright orange legs. They perched on branches, and periodically pranced with herky-jerky movements to attract the attention of females. Their periodic calls, which eBird describes as “piglike squeals,” were odd guttural shrieks, comical to the human ear.

Ever wonder what male Andean Cock-of-the-Rocks do at their leks besides drink beer and boast about past conquests? This highly-classified video gives you a behind-the-scenes look! (Copyright Roger Kohn)

We did not see any females, which are brownish and look more like a conventional bird species, but we assumed they lurked nearby. Despite the absence of the females, I felt privileged to witness this display and add this remarkable Andean cloud forest dweller to my Life List. It was a sublime encounter that I will always treasure.

Andean Cock-of-the-Rock female (photo taken at Machu Picchu, Peru, copyright Sneed B. Collard III)

A huffy puffy ascent awaited us—but also a treat about a third of the way back to the top: the moth trap. The trap is a large white canvas sheet suspended vertically, and is a birder’s delight. Moths and other insects land on it, providing a feasting opportunity for resident cloud forest birds, which converge and gorge on bugs they pick off of the canvas. Pausing here, we racked up 15 species in 20 minutes of very fun birding. They included four species you can find in the United States: Summer Tanager, Canada Warbler, Acadian Flycatcher, and Blackburnian Warbler. The rest were species I’ve never encountered before. We saw five flycatcher species, including great looks at a handsome Tawny-breasted Flycatcher. Four warbler species graced us with their presence, including a very cooperative Buff-rumped Warbler. A Yellow-throated Chlorospingus, a yellowish “tanager-like sparrow” (eBird), dined on a big fat moth.

A Yellow-throated Chlorospingus, a member of a bird group Sneed & Roger had never heard of before the trip.

The superstar of the show was a Squirrel Cuckoo, a large dull orange bird with a yellow bill and a long black and white tail. It flew in and perched on a branch out in the open right in front of us, giving us fantastic looks and unbeatable photo opportunities. It would be my only sighting of that species during my 16-day Colombian adventure.

Is this a good-looking bird or what? Squirrel Cuckoos are quite common throughout Latin America, with a range extending from Argentina all the way up into Mexico.

Elated, we climbed up the remainder of the trail, arriving back at Doña Dora’s place, where a pile of scrambled eggs and a full morning of world-class birding awaited us. If you ever have the chance to take a birding trip to the birdiest country on earth, do not miss the opportunity to visit this cloud forest gem.

https://ebird.org/checklist/S215430499

If you enjoyed this post, be sure to check out our previous Colombian birding blogs:

Video Post: A Visit to Araucana Lodge (Colombia Birding Part 4)

Antpittas and Tody-Flycatchers (Colombia Birding Part 3)

Owl’s Watch Ecolodge (Colombia Birding Part 2)

Layover Birding in Bogota, Colombia

Video Post: A Visit to Araucana Lodge (Colombia Birding Part 4)

Roger and I could easily write another ten or twelve posts about our recent birding adventures to Colombia, but I thought it would be fun to pack a lot of our experiences into a video featuring our main destination down there, the Araucana Lodge. The video not only introduces you to the joys of lodge birding, but features some of the famous birds and birding opportunities to be had in the mountains above Cali. Since large files don’t always work well on this blog host, we embed a YouTube link below. Let us know what you think—and enjoy the show!

Click Here to see the first of our Colombian birding post!

Antpittas and Tody-Flycatchers (Colombia Birding Part 3)

Note: This blog post—and all others on FatherSonBirding—are written by REAL PEOPLE! No compensation or gratuities were provided to us in connection with this post. If you’d like to support FSB, please consider buying one—or ten—of Sneed’s books and contributing to a bird conservation organization of your choice. Thank you!

Our second morning at Owl’s Watch ecolodge, Roger and I felt particularly excited. Although we’d had a great day birding on our own the day before (see post Owl’s Watch Ecolodge Colombia Birding Part 2), this would be the first time we went out with an expert guide. We met Owl’s Watch owner, Dennis Bailey, at 6:00 a.m. at the Social, the lodge’s main meeting building, and he served us coffee and a snack. Then, we climbed into his pickup and he drove us up to the Enchanted Forest. This was an area of cloud forest at the top of his property, where he and his team had developed a nice trail system complete with hidden gnomes associated with an information guide about the ecosystem. This is also where we met Daniel Muñoz Buitrago, our Colombian guide for the day.

Our guide Daniel (right) posing with one of the educational gnomes set up along the trail.

Both Roger and I liked Daniel immediately, and he began our tour by walking us along the road above the forest. “This is often where mixed flocks of tanagers can be found,” he explained, and sure enough, it wasn’t long before he started calling out names: Blue-capped Tanager, Saffron-crowned Tanager, Beryl-spangled Tanager, and one I especially hoped to see—Grass Green Tanager. This bird sports a stunning green color with a vividly contrasting red mask across its face.

One of my favorite tanagers of the trip, a Grass Green Tanager, backlit in the top of a tree.

Along with the tanagers, Daniel called out names of warblers, wrens, woodcreepers, and other birds. We glimpsed some of these, but I must pause here to say a word about what it’s like to bird in tropical forests. Many people see fabulous photos of tropical birds and naturally assume that these birds will be dripping from every branch. Unfortunately, tropical forest birding can often be very challenging. Many birds never show themselves at all and are “heard only” species, identifiable only by their songs and calls—and yes, Merlin’s Sound ID still has a long way to go to become accurate in places like Colombia. Many other birds can be seen—but mainly high in the tree tops against gray, backlit conditions. This makes it tough to get good views through binoculars, and darned well impossible to capture good photos. Daniel, though, was about to greatly improve our “photography problem.”

Brushfinches are difficult to see in any conditions, but we did get lucky with this look at a beautiful Gray-browed Brushfinch along the road.

Heading into the Enchanted Forest, he took us down to a set of bird of feeders and began hanging bananas and grapes from various wires and branches. In no time, one of the forest’s most spectacular birds showed up—an Andean Motmot! We had glimpsed this bird on the drive in two nights before, but were delighted to have this additional excellent, intimate look.

Andean Motmot.

After we’d filled our share of camera memory space with the motmot, Daniel motioned us to follow him fifty meters down the trail. Even before we arrived, he started calling “Brownie, where are you? Come out, come out!”—or the equivalent in Spanish. As he did so, he set a few worms on a little fallen log about fifteen feet in front of us. Soon, he said, “Get ready. He’s coming!”

Moments later, a brown, football-shaped bird about ten centimeters (4 inches) high hopped up out of nowhere. “There he is!” Daniel cooed.

The “he” in this story was a Brown-banded Antpitta, one of Colombia’s most difficult-to-photograph species—and about as adorable as you can get. Its appearance was no accident, either. Daniel had trained the bird for months to respond to his calls—and the worms. I, for one, was grateful because I never imagined I’d get to see an antpitta in the wild. Not only are they very secretive, they often have very restricted ranges. In fact, the Brown-banded Antpitta is classified as Vulnerable due to habitat loss, and little is known about its biology and behavior.

“Brownie”, the Brown-banded Antpitta. These birds are extremely difficult to observe, but thanks to patient “trainers” like Daniel, lucky visitors like us occasionally get to see them.

We left Daniel to “clean up” after Brownie and walked back to the feeders. As I was about to step into the clearing, however, I hissed, “Roger, stop!” There, perched on a feeder branch only seven or eight meters away, sat one of the other birds we especially hoped to see—Black-billed Mountain-Toucan! Roger quickly snapped some excellent photos, but I managed only a couple of crummy ones before the bird flew. Still, it was the only BBMT we would see on the trip.

Snooze, you lose. Due to having my camera on incorrect settings, I managed only a poor shot of this Black-billed Mountain-Toucan before it fled with its fruity booty.

Back on the road, we made our way through cloudy conditions down to the trail that left from the parking area above the lodge (see previous post). We returned to the hummingbird viewing platform and immediately saw a species that got Daniel excited: an uncommon hummingbird called a White-throated Daggerbill. Of course, there were also eleven other species of hummingbirds as well (always, always, hummingbirds), but unbeknownst to us, we were about to meet one of the coolest birds that we’d ever seen.

After a few minutes watching the hummingbird action, Daniel motioned us to follow him down to another little spot about thirty meters away. Here he again pulled out his worm bag and began calling, “Gordita! Gordita! Come out!” Gordita, of course, means “little fat one” in Spanish, and both Roger and I chuckled. But who exactly was Gordita?

R2D2? No, meet Gordita—a Chestnut-crowned Antpitta that quickly hopped into our hearts.

After a few moments, out hopped one of the most remarkable birds I’d ever seen. It was another antpitta—this one, a Chestnut-crowned Antpitta! The bird was about twice the size of Brownie the Brown-banded Antpitta and to me it looked just like a little R2 unit from Star Wars. In an instant, it became one of my favorite birds ever, and I’m pretty sure Roger felt the same way.

Daniel’s surprises weren’t over. Continuing on down the trail, he called in another remarkable bird—a Rufous-Crowned Tody-Flycatcher. At least three or four of these would easily fit into your hand, but again, we never would have seen it without Daniel’s knowledge and expertise.

Rufous-capped Tody-Flycatcher.

Which brings up an important point about Colombian birding. While it is possible to bird on your own in Colombia, I highly recommend taking advantage of its growing network of lodges. Although much safer than it used to be, the country does still have its share of problems, ranging from common crime and armed conflict to dangerous road and trail conditions. Taking advantage of the expertise of lodges will help make sure you don’t accidentally wander into a hazardous area. Even better, the lodges we encountered use locally-trained, Colombian guides. Many, like Daniel, speak excellent English, and prices are extremely reasonable. By hiring them, foreign visitors are giving a boost to the local economy—and creating more incentive to protect Colombia’s environment.

After getting our fill of the tody-flycatcher, Daniel led us back down to the Social for a well-deserved (or at least well-received) lunch prepared by the Owl’s Watch cook, David. It had been a splendid day all-around and we so appreciated everything Daniel had shown us. Even better, we were excited to have one more day of birding at Owl’s Watch. That, however, didn’t keep us from eagerly anticipating our next great Colombian lodge destination—which I’ll introduce in the next post!

Roger and our guide, Daniel, birding the road above Owl’s Watch.

The Shorebirds of North America (Book Review)

With spring shorebird migration coming on, we take a break from our Colombian birding series to review a new book that will help prepare you for the exciting, sometimes daunting task of identifying and enjoying some of the world’s most spectacular long-distance migrants. Bird—and read—on!

Legions of FatherSonBirding readers have probably noticed that Braden and I have increasingly become interested—nay, obsessed—by shorebirds over the years. See, for example, our posts

Montana Shorebird Surprise

Abbotts Lagoon, Point Reyes National Seashore (or Chasing Migrants, Part II)

Our fascination may seem odd given that Montana is hardly the world’s epicenter of shorebird activity. Then again, their very rarity here renders them all the more alluring to find and learn about. A natural birding progression also is at work. When beginning one’s birding journey, we birders naturally focus on common, familiar species. As confidence, curiosity, and ambition grow, so does the desire to learn about and identify more difficult groups of birds. When we first began birding, Braden and I focused on woodpeckers, thrushes, waterfowl, waders, owls, and other easier-to-identify species. Over the years, we have plunged into increasingly challenging groups including warblers, sparrows, flycatchers (Braden), gulls, and perhaps more than anything, “shorbs.”

A flock of Western Sandpipers at Point Reyes during my September visit to California with Scott Callow.

When out scanning beaches or shallow lakes, the most common phrase Braden repeats to me is “Shorebirds are tough.” This usually happens when I am whining about the difficulty in distinguishing between off-season Least and Semipalmated Sandpipers, or White-rumped and Baird’s Sandpipers—especially at a distance. But many shorbs are relatively easy to identify, and over the years both Braden and I have come to appreciate—nay, savor—the entire breadth of these fascinating, superbly adapted critters. Imagine my joy, then, when a brand new, beautifully photographed book about shorebirds arrived on my doorstep: Pete Dunne’s and Kevin T. Karlson’s The Shorebirds of North America: A Natural History and Photographic Celebration (Princeton University Press, 2024).

The Shorebirds of North America by Pete Dunne and Kevin T. Karlson (Princeton University Press, 2024)

To say that The Shorebirds of North America is ambitious would be like calling the 18,000-mile round-trip migration of a Red Knot “neat” instead of “epic” or “mind-blowing.” This terrific addition to birding literature not only gives a wonderful overview of the lives of shorebirds, it provides specific accounts of all the shorebirds likely to interest you. That makes this book a wonderful, highly readable reference for both beginning and advanced birders.

The bulk of the book consists of species accounts of 52 kinds of shorebirds known to breed in North America and my guess is that you, like me, will skip directly to species that happen to interest you at the present time. This is a great approach. One of the first shorebirds I looked up was Black-bellied Plover, a bird I have become more and more enthralled with the past several years. As I started to read, my understanding of this handsome creature immediately swelled. I didn’t realize, for instance, that it is one of the world’s most widely distributed shorebirds, or that it is called Grey Plover outside of North America. What really tickled me was learning how fearlessly aggressive these birds can be:

“On the high Arctic tundra breeding grounds,” the authors write, “this sturdy plover is a fierce protector of its large nest area, and it strikes fear into aerial predators as large as gulls and jaegers. Woe to any flying predator if it hears the whistled alarm call of Black-bellied Plover as it flies swift and low across the tundra before rising to spear the intruder in the belly with its strong bill . . .”

The 4-letter breeding code for Black-bellied Plovers is BBPL. After reading the entry for the bird in The Shorebirds of North America, however, I realized that BBPL could easily stand for “Bad-ass-bellied Plover”.

Who knew that one of my favorite birds is such a bad-ass? Similarly delightful “reveals” can be found in each account, many of them based on the authors’ own personal and scientific experiences with the birds.

Far from just being pretty to look at, the book’s incredible photos add real understanding of each species by showing them in a variety of plumages and situations. I enjoyed just quizzing myself on the photos as I made my way through the book, testing and expanding my knowledge as I went. I cannot imagine the effort Kevin T. Karlson and the book’s other photographers invested in creating what may be the world’s finest collection of shorebird photos.

Another thing I learned from The Shorebirds of North America is that the bills of oystercatchers are laterally compressed. You can’t tell this from the typical side view, but this compression turns the bills into excellent chisels for prying limpets, snails, and chitons off of rocks.

As delightful as the species accounts are, I strongly urge readers to read the entire first section straight through. In this section, the authors provide excellent perspective on all shorebirds including their remarkable adaptations, habits, diversity, and evolution. Fascinating anecdotes abound, such as the story of B-95, a banded Red Knot known to have traveled more than 400,000 miles during his 21-year lifetime. The authors don’t bother to hide their admiration for these birds:

“Challenged to design the perfect bird, we would without hesitancy delve into ranks of shorebirds and reach down to the Scolopacidae (sandpipers), the largest of the roughly six or seven family groups in the shorebird order Charadriiformes.”

Another fascinating fact I picked up from The Shorebirds of North America is that the curved bills of Long-billed Curlews are almost perfectly designed to snatch fiddler crabs from their long, curved burrows. They’re also great for picking off grasshoppers without alerting them to their imminent doom.

I could keep singing this book’s praises, but really, if you have even the tiniest, nascent interest in shorebirds, you should order a copy yourself. Given its length and full-color format, I expected the book to sell for at least fifty or sixty bucks, but at the time of this posting it can be had for a bargain $35. That puts it within reach of most people—and makes it an investment in your birding future you won’t regret.

One-Sentence Summary: A highly-readable, indispensable resource for both beginning and advanced shorebird enthusiasts.

Overall Rating (on a scale of cool birds): Piping Plover (highest)

You can order The Shorebirds of North America 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 The Shorebirds of North America provided by the publisher.)