Tropical Kingbird is likely to be one of the last birds I see in 2012 and first I see in 2013. Not a hard bird to come by in Costa Rica. This confiding Central American bird was far away from its normal home, near Half Moon Bay, CA.


December 25th is possibly the worst day of the year to be posting a blog, because lets face it, even the dispensing of wisdom from the world’s leading birder (past, present, and future) can compete with family duties. Of course, I don’t have that problem…we all know that having kids is a great way to put a violent halt to one’s birding career, so I had my plumbing redone long ago, if you know what I’m saying. That’s what you need to do to be Great. So instead of being assailed by relatives on this Christmas day, I find myself preparing for a birding trip to Costa Rica with my colleague Seagull Steve.

But even with this huge bird injection into my year list, it is unlikely I will surpass Redgannet to take the banner of 2012’s Greatest 10,000 Birds Yearbirder (and the high-quality drugs and access to brothels that comes with this prestigious award). I will wave the white flag now. At least I have a good chance at knocking out Jochen and Corey, which will bring huge gloating rights. The waning days of 2012 will see me slinging glass mostly in the Sarapiqui lowlands, which is saturated with tropical cripplers…but Seagull Steve, the pathetic amateur that he is, has never even been to Costa Rica, so the birding may be happening at a slower pace than if I went alone (been there, ticked that, you feel me?). At any rate, I’ll let you know what the 2012 magic number is when I am back stateside in 2013.

That’s all for this year birders. Remember, if your family or poor year list is getting you down, whiskey will go a long way.


Written by Felonious Jive
The Great Ornithologist Felonious Jive is indisputably the world’s greatest birder. As a child, Felonious was involved in a tragic accident that left him blind and crippled. Miraculously, he began regaining his faculties while parked at a window that faced his family’s bird feeder. Following his full recovery, he continued his pursuit of birds past his family’s yard and out across the globe. Now, his identification skills are unmatched by anyone living, dead, or unborn. Although considered a living deity in the birding community, his avian abilities have made him critical of his comparatively inexperienced peers. This has won him no popularity contests, although he remains much sought-after by birdwatchers of the opposite sex. His close colleague Seagull Steve writes of his exploits at Bourbon, Bastards and Birds.