Recap: 2 weeks in Ushuaia

I know this won't be doing my time in Ushuaia justice, but I am going to summarize the past 2 weeks. If this is too brief and you were hoping for more, I apologize. If you don't give a damn about my writing and only wanted to see lots of pictures, I also apologize, but not so much (picture my foot in your face!). Ok, here we go:

December 11th: Maya and I bussed into Buenos Aires after one and a half (2 and a half for Maya) months in Santa Fe. We were sad to see it go, but excited about moving onto new/cooler places. Arriving at Retiro bus station with 6 bags of luggage and a small backpack each, we felt like baby lambs thrown into a lion pit; but we were able to make our way to our hostel with no hiccups. We stayed the night of the 11th in Baires, meeting up with my friends Andrew (from Davidson) and Kyle (not from Davidson) for a few drinks at a local pub, and to watch Andrew hand some drunken shit-talker his lunch at pool (as well as Maya and myself, but that's not important). It was pretty awesome.

December 12th: We met up with Flor, a Golo collaborator and biologist from Argentina. Flor has been generous enough to let us keep much of our luggage at her place (to be picked up when we roll through in mid January for our return trip). The three of us met up with Dan Ardia, a PI for the Golo project and professor at Franklin and Marshall, and his current student, Taylor Dunbar, at the airport inside Baires, grabbed a bite to eat, and then took off for Ushuaia.
There is only one word (2 words with a hyphen?) to describe Ushuaia upon first glimpse: awe-inspiring. Swooping in between mountains, the airport (and the whole town for that matter) is located on a bay surrounded by mountains. The sites are something I have not gotten used to, even 2 weeks later. After picking up our rental car, we moseyed up to our apartment and settled in for the night (and yes, I do mean "up"; Ushuaia is set at the base of a mountain, so you're either up or down).

December 13th: Our first day in the field!. Our Ushuaian collaborator, Marcella, met us at our apartment and led us to the site. The site is located on a peat bog, and is also nestled between mountains. Here's a quick look:

Pretty incredible, huh? Go wipe the drool off your mouth and get back to me. I have to pinch myself every day because it is still hard to believe I am working here.

After a quick run through of the boxes, with Marcella as our guide, we set about installing egg temperature devices (for measuring, you guessed it, egg temperatures [incubating data]) and measuring chicks. We had about 20 actives nests to start, most of which had eggs at this point. Many of these clutches have hatched since then, but unfortunately we have had quite a few die offs, for reasons that will be addressed soon.

December 14th: After a quick morning in the field checking our active boxes and catching adults, we set off for Estancia Harberton, where Golo interns previously worked a handful of active boxes. Because we are short on staff this year we are not monitoring those boxes, but it was certainly worth the trip. There is a famous whale museum at Harberton run by a very kind woman, Natalie, who had housed the previous interns while they worked the boxes. After a slow 90 minute drive we found ourselves looking out over the Estancia. We met Natalie in the museum, where we were given a tour of both the museum and the bone house (which is exactly what is sounds like). Imagine a small cottage where hardworking interns scrape the flesh off of recently collected specimens. Get the picture? Now go smell something pleasant.

Taylor Dunbar: Whale enthusiast

Maya Wilson: Human Ambassador to Whales (relations are not so good right now)

David Millican: Huge dork and Leopard Sealaphobia-ist

Chillin at the stink ...err... I mean bone house with a freshly-ish Andean Condor skeleton

A quick 90 minute return trip found us back in Ushuaia and looking for dinner. The specialty? Lamb and king crab. Needless to say, we've been lambing it up recently. As expected (seeing as this is a tourist spot) the food here is quite delicious. It has been hard to stay in and making anything not made of crab and lamb lately.

December 15th: With nothing needing to be done in the field, we all took a ferry ride through the bay. The ferry travels to Harberton, and in the past has been a necessity for Golo interns. But since we are not working the boxes this year, we made the trip for one reason only: Penguins. Your heart may not have jumped out of your throat at the word Penguin, but think about it. When do you have the opportunity to see these tuxedo'd tikes? Other than the Galapagos and South Africa (and Australia? idk, but that's not the point), only at the end or bottom of the world. Along the way we saw lots of other sea birds, King Cormorants, Great Skuas, Giant Petrels, and even a handful of sea lions (firsts for me). But of course the penguins were the stars of the show. Magellanic and Gentoos (mostly the former). We had hoped to see some Rockhoppers, but apparently they're farther east and south, or maybe just not where we were.

Pre-Penguin Excitement

Post-Penguin Excitement; props to Dan for Best Penguin Waddle

King Cormorant colony. Notice the different stages of nesting: some parents have big chicks (all brown dudes) while others are still sitting on eggs. Maybe the ones incubating eggs got a late start, or perhaps their eggs were predated. Lots of skuas around trying to steal eggs, so both are possible (unless someone is a Cormorant expert and wants to chime in).

I love it when you call me big Pop-pa; Get them flippers flyin if youz a sea lion!

On Sea Lion Island, it's always sleepy time

Adult Magellanic Pengiun

Juvenile Magellanic

Yea, there were a couple of Magellanics hanging out

Gentoo Penguins hanging out on top of the hill, being loner arrogant jerks

Except for this guy! He came down to the water to play/be photographed/get away from his lame Gentoo peeps

(This is where the dates stop. It may have been the penguins on the brain, or all the incredible sites, but dates quickly became less of a concern)

Before Dan left, we were able to visit the National Park west of town. This was where we had hoped to see Magellanic Woodpeckers, but alas, we failed. Even a second trip after Dan left could not produce the elusive (though apparently abundant) peckerheads. Maya and I have one more site in mind that we will try in the next few days. But the park is still beautiful, with a handful of steep incline climbs and scenic coastal trails. Check it out:

Two lookers at the Lookout Point

Coastal Walk

Lots of mussels around, and I'm not talking about the Guido tourists

Apparently the ground view is more interesting than the water. Ain't that right, ladies?

On his last day, Dan bailed on us and our field work to go scuba diving (I guess that's fair). According to his report, there were few fish, but instead plenty of crustaceans to go around. In his words, it was the coldest dive he's ever done (or been, quite possibly both), and seemed to produce very unique sites. Meanwhile, Maya, Taylor, and I sweated it out in the field (minus the sweat, remember it's cold here). Our hard work was rewarded when we saw our second Andean Condor of the trip, flying down from the mountains and circling no more than 40 feet overhead for a good 5 minutes. All I can say is, holy shit, what a beautiful bird.

Since Dan left, the three of us have been carrying on in the field. We have had quite a number of parents abandon their nests, because of, from what we can tell, too much tinkering with them and their nests. Every Tachycineta species is different, and there is also variation with each species. Some parents have no problem with plastic egg temp containers sprouting from the bottom of their boxes, or with our catching and processing them and their chicks. Others freak out and abandon their chicks. There is a predator hypothesis among birds that species in tropical ecosystems, where there is a greater abundance and biodiversity of predators, are more likely to abandon their nests (partly because they have a greater chance of laying another clutch later that season, or in later seasons, than their counterparts in temperate ecosystems). But being so far down here, it is strange that some adults abandon so easily. Having not looked at the data from past seasons, I really can't say much more. But for this season, it's put a small damper on our otherwise wonderful experience.

Today Maya and I drove by the airport and kicked Taylor to the curb. Good riddance.
Absolutely kidding. We are very sad that Taylor has left us, but are very grateful for the chance to get to know her. I won't ramble on about someone nobody else reading this knows, but she is clearly a fun and bright young lady with a wonderful future ahead of her. We hope to see her soon.

Now Maya and I are twiddling our thumbs while watching Park and Recreation. We will continue to work the field site until January 2nd, when we will trade in our work gloves for tourist hats and begin busing north to Buenos Aires. We will spend a couple of nights in Bariloche and Mendoza (and more than a couple on the bus) before arriving in Buenos on the 13th.

Merry Christmas from the end of the world

I would like to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, Winter Break, or what have you. This time of year I hope we all remember what is most important: family and friends. Take it from someone who is so far away form his family: I do not miss the gift giving bonanza in the slightest, only the comfort of being around those I love. Being away from family at this time of year is harder than I thought it would be. I am certainly lucky to be here with Maya and Taylor, and we are having a wonderful time enjoying each other's company, but it certainly is not the same. I became slightly emotional while walking the streets of Ushuaia last night and thinking about home. To everyone reading this: I love and miss you, and look forward to seeing you in 2012.

Now, let's get past the sappy stuff. We did our best to celebrate Christmas Eve in style. We were somewhat surprised to find that quite a few restaurants were open last night, but maybe we should have expected what we found: limited menus at outrageous prices. I guess that's the name of the game: supply and demand. Everyone lazy enough to go out on Christmas Eve, or dumb enough not to stock up, must eat somewhere (demand). So of course, the main topic at the weekly meeting of restaurant owners in Ushuaia was how much to rip out the pockets of lazy/dumb tourists (supply). Finding that all of the menus were out of our price range, and that our new favorite empanada spot was closed, we decided to return home to make burgers and scrounge up whatever we could find in the fridge.

It was then that a Christmas miracle was bestowed onto us. Oh wait, did I say miracle? I meant slap in the face. After returning home with no empanadas in hand, I had expected to find the aroma of burgers seeping out from under the door to greet me. WRONG! Our one burner decided to break on the one day when nobody was around to fix it. After a few shots of fernet we threw the frozen meat (as well ass a leftover slice of pizza, 2 lamb empanadas, and 3 day old mac and cheese) on a plate in the microwave and set it to nuke. Curled up in front of the computer, we devoured our feast and bottle of fernet to the musings of Lesnie Knope and Tom Haverford (Parks and Recreation [highly recommend]). Overall, a wonderful Christmas Eve.

4 thumbs up for microwaved meat

Today we are off to the field. Taking yesterday off to explore the National Park in Ushuaia, we left ourselves with a fuller plate today that usual. But what better way to spend Christmas than at the end of the world doing what we love? Answer: there is none.

I am grateful for my family and friends back home, for Maya and Taylor who are here with me, for Dan Ardia, who spent the first week here with us and who hooked us up with this incredible opportunity (and who we miss terribly), for good health, and an endless list of good fortunes. While spreading good cheer in the form of gifts, may we remember those people in the world who want for nothing more than the things we may take for granted: a warm place to live, clean food and water, clothing, great educational opportunities, etc. My hope is that we all remember what today is: a celebration of life. May we remember the true needs to life and not confuse them with our wants. Consider sharing your good fortune and spreading happiness to those who have so little. Consider putting off buying the new ipad or playstation so that a family somewhere can eat for a week. Remember to separate those things in our lives that bring us true happiness from those that bring about superficial satisfaction.

Happy Holidays. By breathing the air in the sky and feeling the ground under our feet, know that we are blessed to know the gift of life.

Christmas Dinner (a little nicer than Christmas Eve dinner): Lamb stew, king crab ravioli, empanadas, fernet, wine, and champagne

What have you done for me lately?

The birds in Santa Fe came hot and heavy at first. After rounding up the usuals, I would often record 5+ new species a day. But of course, as is the case for all places, things slowed down. For a while I was still fortunate enough to see a new bird every day, but even this became too much to hope for. Here are the final birds I found in Santa Fe, bringing my Argentina total to 120. I am happy to be in a new place, with lots of new birds (names to come, but one spoiler, rhymes with "Man he been on shore")

1. Rufescent Tiger-heron
2. Sooty-fronted Spinetail
3. Southern Beardless Tyrannulet
4. Bran-coloured Flycatcher
5. Swainson's Flycatcher
6. Streaked Flycatcher
7. White-browed Blackbird

113 + 7 = 120

Goodbye Santa Fe

I'll make this short and sweet.

Maya and I are heading to Buenos Aires tomorrow morning on the 10:05 Flecha Bus. We are planning on getting into Baires around 5ish, getting a good night's sleep, and flying down to Ushuaia tomorrow afternoon. We will meet up with my buddy, Andrew, in BA to retrieve my rain pants (a must in Ushuaia), and hopefully explore the town a bit (Maya has not had the opportunity to give the town a look over). Tomorrow morning we will meet up with a former Golo intern, Flur, who is kind enough to hold onto some of our gear while we are down south. We will not be performing all the normal Golo protocols in Ushuaia, nor will we be needing all the clothes we have used in Santa Fe (por ejemplo, short sleeved shirts and pants, bathing suit, etc.), which help relieve of us 3 suitcases. We will then rendezvous with Dan Ardia, a PI for the Golo project and Maya's former professor at Franklin and Marshall, and his current student, Taylor X (no, she is not Malcolm's daughter; I just don't know her name). Then off to Ushuaia!

We've been practicing our Ushuaia dances for when we first step off the plane, but I anticipate that we will be so in awe of the beauty that we may forget our steps. We will surely miss Santa Fe, our beautiful field site, and the friends we made, but we are ready for a change of scenery. Our site gave us a pleasant goodbye today in the form of two Southern Screamers and a Sayaca Tanager, only my second look for both species. Now it is time to say goodbye.

PEACE SANTA FE! Keep it real

Freeloaders

I can’t say I blame any of them. If someone put up 100+ homes in my hood and failed to put up a guard dog, I’d probably move into one of them, too. “Forget about your swallows, I got kids!” Of course, that’s just what many animals have done at our site. The white-rumpeds leave many boxes unclaimed, so somebody might as well take refuge. But even with all the empties, our swallows aren’t the baddest of the bunch. There are a couple other critters that muscle their way in.

For reference sake, this is the usual find in a box.

Newly hatched fish foo... err... I mean baby swallows

Unclaimed Boxes

Who else would our bird boxes be perfect for if not other birds? One pair of Cattle Tyrants lucked out. Usually they would not have been able to occupy our boxes because the holes are too small. However, the top of box 66 blew off, allowing this male and his mate to access the box through the top. The weather certainly didn’t treat their chicks well. Only one survived. Good cavity choice, smarties. Natural selection at work?

This brings up an interesting conservation point: regulating the use of nest boxes. Dr. Stanback in Davidson discovered that by limiting the nest hole size of his boxes, he is able to prevent the use of nest boxes by Eastern Bluebirds. This has allowed for other birds of interest, primarily Brown-headed Nuthatches and Carolina Chickadees, to occupy boxes in greater numbers.

This Christmas this guy can be grateful for poor craftsmanship.

With water all around, it’s not surprising that some hoppity herps (yea, I just said hoppity) have made their way up into our boxes. A shady spot with insects and no fish? Score one for the frogs. Sometimes we’ll find one, sometimes we’ll find ten.  But regardless of how many we find, they are always guaranteed to freak out when we open the door, bouncing against the walls like locos in straight jackets in a padded room.

I guess you can say we've got herps.

My least favorite squatter. This guy/girl/I don’t care enough to check its genitalia has been spending its days in box 117 in Trailer Park for the entire season. I’ve had somewhat of a vendetta against bats ever since they came after Phil in Australia (we still have unfinished business in the Wet Tropics). Even so, I have to admit that these guys are pretty cool (there are more species of bats than any other family of mammals) and very important to the ecosystem.

First you try to kill my boy, then you take my box? That's pretty weak, bat. Pretty weak indeed.

Not pictured: Saffron Finch


Usurpers

Not all birds play nice. The House Wren, a common species in the US and Argentina, is notorious for taking over the cavities of other birds. How does this small bird convince other birds to give up their homes? Simple. They poke holes in their eggs. Pretty dick, huh? Well, it works. Some areas in our field site are overrun with House Wren, such as Trailer Park and Wild Wild West. It seems they have some sort of a truce with the swallows, though, because few wrens nest outside of these two locations. Thanks, I guess?

While we’re on the House Wren, notice the nest. Anything about this nest different from that of the swallow nests? Uh, yea. House Wrens prefer sticks to grasses.  They will often build their stick nests tall near the cavity entrance and position their nest cup in the back of the cavity, making it more difficult for predators to reach in and grab their youngins. Pretty smart birds, aye?

This little birdie made his house out of sticks. But this birdie ain't afraid of any big bad wolf.

Some box hogs aren’t to be messed with. We go ahead and give these guys space, recording a ‘W’ in our log books and long dash through all the days of the season. What species of wasps occupy our boxes, you ask?  Well, I cannot say that I am an entomologist, or anything close, but we do categorize our wasp pests according to a very specific Golo classification system: big wasp or small wasp. These are the small guys, who pack their boxes with more brothers and sisters than the big guys. These buggers are at least nice enough to make their presence visible from yards away. The big guys, though? We usually don’t know they’re in a box until we open it up, or put our faces under the boxes to check, getting a face full of stingers.

(Note: As of yet, Maya is the only one to have been stung. Might that suggest I am more cunning and ninja-like? Most definitely. Will this post ensure that I get stung tomorrow? Bring it on, karma)

"Huh, what are those? Ants? Hey David, would you go check out that box and see what's in it?"

Screw you. You go check out that box.

Just plain assholes

Some birds neither evict our swallows nor take over empty boxes. Instead, they try to get the swallows to raise their chicks for them. You may have heard of this phenomenon, called brood parasitism, in relation to old-world cuckoos, but it is also common in cowbirds.  The type of brood parasitism exhibited by the old world subfamily of cuckoos is extremely interesting/bastardly. A female cuckoo will lay an egg in another bird’s nest, which hatches very quickly, before those of the host species.  After it hatches, the chick has innately begins to haunch its back and push, clearly the host eggs out of the nest. These unfortunate parents are then tricked into raising only the cuckoo chick. With cowbirds, brood parasitism isn’t so sinister. They do lay an egg in the nest of another species, ensuring that the host chicks lose out on much needed nourishment, but the cowbird chick does not evict the host eggs form the nest. How generous.

I know what you might be thinking: "Hey David, how do you know that is a cowbird egg and not a swallow egg?"

Oh I don't know, it's just a hunch.

Not pictured: Water rodents

Give the People What They Want

In 1981, the English rock band The Kinks gave the people what they thought they wanted: 11 short rock songs, probably all about tea and crumpets or nailing transvestites. Now, in 2011, I'm going to give the people what they really want: pictures of birds. Enjoy!

White-rumped Swallow: Of course this guy has to come first.  A South American member of the cavity-nesting Tachycineta genus, this browed little fighter jet is the whole reason for our being here. Every adult acts differently when you are working with its nest. Some will give you some distance, perching some yards away. Others will go Red Barron and dive-bomb the shit out of you.  The male at box 98? He just sits and watches 5 feet away, making small-chirp while you work.  Unfortunately his nest has been predated twice in the past 2 weeks. Maybe he should have opted for dive-bombing…

Burrowing Owl: How lucky are we? Like a mosquito in a blood bank. Every morning we find this guy and his mate standing guard by their den no more than thirty feet from our trailer.  I’ve tried to get close to them, thinking they might stand and fight to protect their babies, but they are always keen to seek higher ground. Great parenting skills. Interesting/funny/gross fact about these guys: they will place pieces of dung around their dens to attract dung beetles for food. How's that for a fishing technique, Uncle Dick?

Rusty-collared Seedeater: This girl may not look like much, but anyone who has ever held, and therefore been bitten by, a cardinal knows that she can pack a punch. Think about it, for this little species to be able to open seeds must mean that it wields a formidable beak. Of course all efforts to capture said seedeaters have been fruitless (literally; they eat seeds, remember?), but hopefully once the net-guns come in we will have more success.

Chalk-browed Mockingbird: You may be familiar with this guy’s cousin, the Northern Mockingbird.  While they are separated by thousands of miles, the two species certainly share at least one thing in common: they are some territorial s.o.b’s. Almost every morning we are greeted by this guy flying into the tree above our trailer and harping at us to leave “his” space. We usually try to ignore him, but sometimes we decide to harp back at him, usually until he is so confused that he lets us have our space back (Phil, you know our pain).

Great Egret: You may recognize this guy, as he is common in the US. I’ll let you think of something to say here. Or maybe look something up and tell me what you find. I’ll be waiting…

Monk Parakeet: Before coming to Argentina, I was under the impression that monks would take vows of silence. Apparently these guys aren’t that devout. In singles or pairs, the squawking is bearable, a pleasing reminder that we are in South America, the motherland of birds. But in groups, nesting up in the power towers? Chaos. Wu Tang might bring the “mother-fuckin ruckus”, but they ain’t got shit on this crew.

Fork-tailed Flycatcher: Check out the tail on that mother! According to my sources (aka the internet) this species has the longest tail in relation to its body size of any bird in the world. Why would anyone want to have such a ridiculous ornament? The ladies dig it. Not only does it get their feathers ruffled, but it also proves to them that you are one healthy hunk. If you can fly around with that hindrance of a tail and not get eaten, you must be one hell of a bird.

Guira Cuckoo: Sweet do, dude! (Maybe tough to see here) This looks like the lead singer from the Sex Pistols got drunk in a pet store and had his way with the macaws. Usually we’ll see four or five of these guys flying form tree to tree, flashing their long tails behind them. That’s how you know it’s a Guira, by the long tail. That or the hair. Or the call. Or the fact that it looks like a Guira Cuckoo. But if you can’t go on any of those, go with the tail.

Rufous-collared Sparrow: I first saw this guy in Buenos Aires, sitting in a fruit tree next to an uproar of Monk Parakeets. In my haste, I labeled this guy a special find, drawn in by the beautiful stripes and rufous neck. Of course, if only I had stopped to think what it must mean for this bird is able to live in BA, maybe I wouldn’t have been so surprised when we began seeing these guys everywhere in Santa Fe. Still, they really are beautiful birds, and to get to see them so often is a special treat.

Southern Lapwing: Possibly the winner of the most annoying bird at the site. There’s alarm calling, and then there’s this guy. Any time we get close to a lapwing (by close I mean within 50 feet) it begins a spinning verbal assault on everything below. In case the other birds hadn’t noticed the two humans bumbling around in giant condoms, now they know.

Yellow-chinned Spinetail: Can you see the porcu-spines on this guy?  This aptly named passerine has become more and more common around the site.  We recently had a brood fledge on the eastern peninsula of Florida (see “Lay of the Land”). Every time we walk along that stretch, the family pops up from the tall grasses and plays what seems like a fearful game of tag, flying from snag to snag all the way down the peninsula.

Bare-faced Ibis: Of the three species of Ibis found at our site (others being White-faced and Green) this is by far the most common. We often find them perched on dead trees, as seen here, but they are more likely to be found pecking around in the mud for small crustaceans.

Chestnut-fronted Blackbird: You may be tempted to pass this guy over among the unicolored blackbirds and shining cowbirds, but don’t be so dumb. In South America a black bird is not just another black bird, proven here by this red-faced Icterid. These guys are fairly common around the site, but always a treat to see.

Ruddy Ground-dove: There are about a half-dozen Columbids (look it up) at our site, none of which was more difficult to identify than this guy (my binocs for good plates!), who is probably the least common of them all. He still has the characteristic dove look and head turns, giving you the impression that there may not be any wheels turning up in that tiny skull.

Wattled Jacana: Ever wanted to walk on water? (Well you shouldn’t! You ain’t Jesus!!) Maybe you should talk with this guy. His feet are so big (more like his toes are so long) that he can walk on the top of floating vegetation in search of invertebrates. It’s like having a pair of permanent snowshoes! (except, you know, using them on water and not snow)

Snail Kite: I never would have thought that a raptor could be so abundant. It must be the smorgasbord of apple snails, because there are always at least a dozen snail kites flying around the site. The orange talons and beak of this species are beautiful, especially contrasted against the dark body. I doubt that these tools are as necessary now as they were centuries or millennia ago, when they were hunting a prey that could actually escape, but why the hell would anything want to give up such sweet weapons? (note: the beak is actually great for ripping snails out of their shells; the curvature is perfect for really digging up in there to evict those gastropods from their homes).

Rufous Hornero: Here he is, Mr. Argentina, the national bird himself. These guys aren’t just all over our field site; they’re all over Santa Fe. In the parks, backyards, roads, buildings, shoes, children’s backpacks, sofa cushions. They’re everywhere. As boring as this may make the Hornero seem, one really must appreciate an evolutionary design that has allowed a species to dominate the landscape (just like the Rock Pigeon we all love so much). While it may not be as exciting a find as a Kirtland’s Warbler or Eastern Scrub-jay, they are none less the awesome, and very good singers, too.

Striated Heron (L) and Black-crowned Night-heron (R): How awesome is this! Two superb hunters in one shot! They may look like bumps on a log, but they are quite  attuned to the subtle splishes and splashes below them. Could they even work as a tandem? While one cannonballs into the shallows, sending small fish flying into the air, the other will swoop in to snag the fish out of the air. And if you can believe that, we also had a Dodo sighting the other week (I tried to get a picture, but he was too clever for me).

Red-crested Cardinal: What a beauty. One of two cardinal species at our site (the other being the Yellow-billed), the Red-crested Cardinal is always a pleasure to find. It may be the contrasting body, but the red head looks to be on fire, perhaps bolder than the North American Cardinal we are familiar with. If my cousin Frank rocked a Mohawk, I think he’d look like this guy.

Maguari Stork: I’ve saved the best for last.  This is probably my favorite bird at the site. It’s not often that we find these guys, and when we do it is usually for no more than a minute, so we take in the majesty while we can. These monsters can stand around 4 feet tall and have a sword of a beak. Forget about humans, this guy could carry a baby hippo home from the hospital! What a beast.

I hope this will slake your thirst for photo'd feather'd flyers, you ravenous bird lovers you. Now go watch the Heels stomp all over wisconsin.