Kyle Talks Nature (2025)

16/03/2025

Ok, hear me out here. You know when you're in a dark theatre tossing popcorn into your face-hole? And you know how at the end of the movie you're surrounded by a carpet of popcorn that has deflected off your face and down your body to the sticky floor below?

This is the exact problem that the Boat-billed Heron has evolved to solve. Granted a few of the minor details are slightly different, but in essence the boatbill's unusual bill is just the gargantuan popcorn-grabber you wish you had.

The Boat-billed Heron is nocturnal, you see, so it hunts primarily in the dark. The water it hunts in is also muddy, further obscuring its target. A broad, scooping bill, then, is the perfect tool for acquiring small, hard-to-see foodstuffs with minimal escapage.

In lieu of popcorn (for some reason) the boatbill uses its generous scooper to devour fish, crustaceans, amphibians, and other small animals. Then, belly full, it sleeps away the day in the dense vegetation of a riverbank.

This particular Boat-billed Heron was a highlight for my recent Quest Nature Tours Costa Rica tour group. It may be the bright and colourful birds that bring you to the tropics, but it's the weird ones that steal the show. I wouldn't have it any other way.

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Boat-billed Heron
Sierpe, Costa Rica

21/02/2025

Sparrows get a pretty raw deal, on the whole. Universally labeled as small, brown, and unremarkable, they are often ignored and always underappreciated. If you're a birdwatcher with taste, though, you know that sparrows are some of the handsomest birds out there.

Sure they're not as gaudy as some, or as big as others, but size and flash aren't everything. Sparrows are more like that guy at work who doesn't know how attractive he is. A little modesty and humility only add to the package.

In contrast to the screaming colours of the warblers, tanagers, or hummingbirds, sparrows are a family of tasteful accents. Their browns and greys are the perfect canvas on which to paint splashes of yellow, russet, pink, or crisp white. No need to overdo it.

We need to rise up and defend the sparrows from the detractors...those who sling labels like Little Brown Job. Tanagers scald your retinas for a moment, but sparrows infiltrate your mind and heart. Bring a little sparrow love into your life. You won't regret it.

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White Throated Sparrow, Ontario
Rufous-collared Sparrow, Ecuador
Dark-eyed Junco, Ontario
American Tree Sparrow, Ontario

20/02/2025

The Violet-tailed Sylph is really pretty gratuitous in every way. Just profoundly unnecessarily ridiculous. Is there nothing to be said for modesty and restraint?

Pretty nice though.

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Violet-tailed Sylph
Mindo, Ecuador

19/02/2025

A two-potoo day is a good day, a fact which I recently had the opportunity to verify. The more potoos the merrier, I always say. No such thing as too many.

If you don't know what a potoo is, imagine frolicking through a meadow swinging a butterfly net. Now imagine the net had feathers and wings and a pair of buggy eyes. That's a potoo. It masquerades as a bird but it's basically just a wide-mouthed receptacle for bugs.

Most bugs fly around at night, so that is when the potoo do too. During the day it pretends to be part of a tree, and the resemblance is uncanny. This allows it to rest (mostly) undisturbed, saving its energy for another night of bug-sucking.

Having experienced a two-potoo day, I can't help but greedily dream about the magic of three. It doesn't rhyme, but I expect it would be spectacular nonetheless. It's important to have something in life to shoot for, I guess. More potoos is as good a goal as any.

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Common Potoo
Great Potoo
Napo, Ecuador

16/02/2025

Lots of people go crazy for hummingbirds. Me? I go crazy for hummingbird names. On the whole, these little monsters are easily the best-named family of birds on the planet, with barely a stinker among them. Other birds could take a lesson.

For just a sample of naming brilliance we have the Velvet-purple Coronet, Shining Sunbeam, Sparkling Violetear, and White-booted Rackettail, all pictured. It goes on, as this family also houses birds like the Fiery Topaz, Amethyst-throated Sunangel, and Black Metaltail.

There are so many spectacular monikers that this whole post could just be a list of names to ooh and aah over. There's obviously something about these glittering, shimmering, flitting, dancing, ever-warring birds that struck a chord with their English namers.

I wish all birds were named this way. These names stoke excitement, invite inquiry, and inspire connection with the birds that bear them. Granted it might be tricky to apply the idea to the House Sparrow or Gray Flycatcher, but don't we owe it to them to at least try?

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Velvet-purple Coronet
Shining Sunbeam
Sparkling Violetear
White-booted Rackettail
Ecuador

07/02/2025

Let's talk harvestmen, shall we? The harvestmen - or daddy longlegs (yes they have not one but two strangely gender-specific names) - are arachnids, but not spiders. They have 8 legs and a special ability that spiders don't have: they can eat solid food.

As a person with a great affinity for solid food of all varieties, I am pleased for the harvestmen. I assume they enjoy eating solids and looking down upon the spiders. But why, you ask, do spiders not possess this seemingly fundamental skill?

Sadly for the spiders, evolution took them down a very different and rather restrictive road. They have venom to subdue their prey, which is good, but lack chewing mouthparts, which is tricky. Thus they inject venom, pre-digest their food, and suck up the resulting bug soup.

The harvestmen have no venom, but with their clever chewing mouthparts they can diversify their diet. As a group, they are omnivorous, which is wierd amongst the mostly carnivorous arachnids. They can eat smaller bugs, but also dead stuff, plant matter, fungi, and p**p (yum).

Harvestmen can look a little funky, but they are harmless and delightful. You can't eat p**p and be scary. Actually a human doing it would be terrifying but lets not wander too far down that path. Harvestmen are the best, and they deserve more love than they get. That is all.

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Ventrivomer ancyrophorus
Mindo, Ecuador

04/02/2025

Is s**g carpet too dated a reference? I think I was just old enough to catch the tail end of the s**g carpet era, having spent my earliest years in a home with a remnant s**g carpeted basement. One where, in fact, this creature would have camouflaged perfectly.

The S**g Carpet Caterpillar may seem a mystery, given that it does not roam the deep pile of a disco-era floor covering. Instead it crawls about in the forest, blending in with nothing. Just like its namesake, though, the appearance of this caterpillar is a warning.

Fuzz on a caterpillar, especially in the tropics, is a bit of a trick. It may look inviting, but these handsome hairs are often either a physical barrier to being eaten, a delivery system for venom, or both. Hands off the carpet is, as always, a good policy.

Information seems to be lacking on the toxicity (or lack thereof) of this species. It could be just pretending, for all we know. Sometimes looking toxic is just as good as being toxic. Definitely the best application of s**g carpet since the 70s either way.

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S**g Carpet Caterpillar
Mindo, Ecuador

03/02/2025

Y'all may have been obsessed over the Grammy Awards this weekend, but I'm all about the Goatee Awards. Granted, the competition is much less fierce...very few that are even worthy of nomination, if I'm honest. But I think we can all agree the tamarin is a clear winner.

Very few can truly rock a goatee. I'd certainly never have the courage to try one. But the Black-mantled Tamarin somehow looks distinguished and handsome, with just a smidge of rebellious mischief. A very good goatee indeed.

Mischief is indeed the pastime of the tiny tamarins, who maraud through the forest in vocal troops, eating, squabbling, and generally carousing. Perhaps their white goatee makes their expressions easy to read through the branches. Maybe it's just for style. Either way, I like it.

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Black-mantled Tamarin
Napo, Ecuador

30/01/2025

When you're big - like an eagle or an airplane - flying is hard. Everything needs to be just right. You need rigid wings for lift, and hefty muscles or fuel-burning engines for power. When you're very small, though, the rules of flight become a bit more nebulous.

Tiny flying creatures move minimal mass, so they can get away with a somewhat more creative approach to the concept. The many-plumed moths, for example, don't have wings in the traditional sense, but rather a collection of fluffy spindles.

Whether through some magic or mastery of physics, the many-plumed moths seem to fly just fine. Their non-wings may even help the moths avoid detection by bats, messing with the predator's echolocation. As usual, being a little bit weird is a win all-round.

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Many-plumed Moth (Alucita sp.)
Mindo, Ecuador

28/01/2025

Been a lot of bird around here recently, seems about time for some bug. Katydid will do the trick nicely.

The katydids are basically grasshoppers that heard "you are what you eat" and took it way too seriously. Like if I dressed as a giant Dorito (not a sponsor...yet).

There is a reason for this flagrant food-worship, and it's less about leaf-love and more about self preservation. The rainforest is full of creatures that eat insects, but there aren't that many bigger animals that eat leaves. Katydids play the odds.

Of course the discerning viewer may notice that this thing is, in fact, not a leaf. Especially when it walks or flies, which leaves seldom do. But there are too many leaves in the forest to examine them all, so a careful katydid can stay mostly safe most of the time. Mostly.

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Leaf Katydid (species unknown)
Mindo, Ecuador

27/01/2025

It's hard to think of a group of birds with less chill than the tropical tanagers. Each one is basically a neon sign that says "have my babies" in a slightly different language. Someone should tell them there's such a thing as coming on too strong.

I feel for the tanagers. Hiding behind all the retina-burning style choices, there are probably lots of redeeming traits. Maybe they've got lovely personalities, or are great listeners, or have thoughtful opinions on the issues of the day. We'll never know.

Sometimes in life you've just gotta have confidence in what you bring to the table. True colours shine from the inside, you know? External beauty is just a facade.

Sure is nice to look at though.

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Flame-faced Tanager
Glistening-green Tanager
Golden-naped Tanager
Golden Tanager
Black-capped Tanager
Blue-winged Mountain Tanager

Mindo and area, Ecuador

22/01/2025

I love a caracara. Fun to say, fun to look at, fun to think about. Overall just a really excellent bird. This particular caracara is carunculated, and I think we can all agree there's nothing better than a good set of caruncles.

Caracaras are a branch of the falcon family tree that grew off in a weird direction. They're not really into all the usual falcon stuff, like being fast and powerful and sharply-honed killing machines. Instead they take a more measured approach to life.

You might see a caracara strolling thoughtfully through a field, or discussing philosophy with its colleagues, or flying about in a leisurely fashion. At lunchtime it simply selects a nearby insect or grazes on a handy livestock carcass. It might even eat a fruit, or a seed.

I always think of caracaras as the least falcony falcons, though I suppose maybe they're the normal ones and all the other ones are weird. Life's all about perspective I guess. Either way, they really seem to do their own thing and I respect that.

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Carunculated Caracara
Antisana, Ecuador

07/01/2025

What do you say about the Hoatzin, other than that it's a punk-rock, claw-winged, leaf-fermenting, face-painted dinosaur-turkey with a radical mohawk and more panache than you can shake a stick at? It's weird, it's wacky, and it's absolutely perfect.

The Hoatzin is a bit of an avian anomaly. The world's birds are divided into orders - big, broad groups that show their relationships to each other. Songbirds is one, for example. Waterfowl is another.

The Hoatzin belongs in an order all by itself. It is a black sheep. A loner, with no close relatives among the living birds. Its branch of the family tree left the trunk about 64 million years ago, just after the big dinosaurs went extinct, and it is the sole remaining twig.

The Hoatzin, then, is truly one-of-a-kind. A unique bird in every sense - the way it looks, the way it lives, and where it comes from. Plus it has that sweet, sweet mohawk. Absolutely A+ all around.

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Hoatzin
Laguna Paikawe, Ecuador

03/01/2025

If you've ever been to a hummingbird feeder, you know that it's the most violent place on Earth (probably). Hummers are a total nightmare - chasing, screaming, battling, dive bombing, constantly at war. Theirs is a tiny world of terrors.

The Gorgeted Woodstar is the remedy to all the chaos. As the bigger birds zip and whirl after each other, claiming their hard-fought domains, the tiny woodstar slowly wafts about on invisible wings, unobtrusive and unnoticed.

The woodstar may be successfully undercover as a rotund bumblebee, for that is the impression it gives. It is scarcely larger than its six-legged facsimile, and it hovers with the same complete lack of urgency. It just gently floats about, sipping nectar and bothering nobody.

Maybe for my New Years resolution I will aim to channel my inner woodstar - small, round, slow-moving, and flying effortlessly under the radar. Or, like, not caught up in other people's drama...I don't know I'm still working on the metaphor.

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Gorgeted Woodstar
Napo, Ecuador

30/12/2024

Do you ever have the urge to dangle from your toes and engage in a rousing bout of armpit grappling? No? Weird. You're clearly not an Emerald Glass Frog.

Glass frogs get a lot of attention for their translucent skin and googly eyes, but the weirdness doesn't end there. They also have stabby armpit spines for vanquishing their enemies. Competing males literally dangle from their little toesies and violently hug it out.

If you are sadly lacking in both sticky toe pads and armpit appendages (I feel your pain) I would imagine some duct tape and creativity may be the solution. Maybe we'll see inverted armpit grappling in the Olympics someday. I'd rather watch it than golf.

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Emerald Glass Frog
Mindo, Ecuador

24/12/2024

I'm not usually a sucker for fuzzy animals. I don't spend my days ogling kittens on the interwebs or gushing over goslings in the park. I must admit though, when I met this very fuzzy lady, I was completely smitten.

I figured the feeling was mutual. I struck up a conversation during our impromptu photoshoot and it flowed beautifully. A little one-sided, sure, but I do tend to ramble a little when I'm excited. Then, as per usual, I must've said something wrong.

I know this because she quickly went from her relaxed, engaged listening posture to her rigid "I'm a stick" pose. They always do that. No matter what I said, I couldn't rectify the situation. Foot in mouth yet again, I packed up and moved on. Better luck next time, hopefully.

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Red-thighed Bromeliad Spider
Mindo, Ecuador

23/12/2024

With nothing for scale, the Giant Hummingbird barely looks giant at all. You don't see it looming over tall buildings or crushing cars beneath its feet. It really is pretty big, though. You'll just have to take my word for it.

If you've seen videos of Giant Hummingbirds, you'd be forgiven for thinking (as I did) that they are floating ballerinas, dancing among the flowers with delicate grace. As it happens, they're more like fighter jets. They sound like them too, rocketing across the landscape.

This Mach-2 zooming only enhances the effect when, upon arriving at a flower, they freeze in midair. If the hovering of other hummingbirds appears as a feat of physics, the Giant seems held aloft only by some inexplicable magic. The brain cannot resolve it.

It seems obvious that the Giant Hummingbird's occasional wingbeats - far less frantic than those of its cousins - should be insufficient to keep such a large bird still in the air. And yet it hovers, casually surveying its surroundings before moving in for a drink.

There's little better in life than a small big thing or a big small thing, and the contradictory Giant Hummingbird exemplifies that. Like a pygmy hippo or an elephant beetle. Nature does have a way of keeping the brain guessing, and you've got to love it for that.

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Giant Hummingbird
Antisana, Ecuador

20/12/2024

You don't have to be a physiologist to guess which senses an armadillo has evolved to rely on. One look at its ridiculous face tells you everything you need to know. Its hearing is excellent, its smelling is fantastic, and its vision is complete garbage.

You can test this theory if an armadillo happens to be coming towards you. Simply stand (or in my case lie on your stomach) very still. If you are quiet enough, and don't smell too objectionable, that armadillo might just about bump into you.

This particular armadillo snuffled its way to within an arm's reach, but became suspicious when I moved my foot slightly, rustling the leaves. It stood up, sniffed the air, decided something was amiss, and casually turned and strolled off in the opposite direction.

Fortunately for the armadillo, vision is not key to its survival. Its generously proportioned nose is perfect for detecting (and rooting out) insects hidden in the soil, and its swivelling ears are always on high alert for danger. Eyes, well, they're just not that important.

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Nine-banded Armadillo
Mindo, Ecuador

Kyle Talks Nature