Thursday, July 12, 2012

Kingfisher perched in the mangroves

By exploring the mangroves up close, there are opportunities to spot wildlife hiding in the thickets.  This kingfisher was perched in the mangroves.  He is a little hard to spot, but the wildlife guides have an uncanny knack for finding and pointing out animals.

Tiny Costa Rica is home to more bird species than the USA and Canada combined.  Its location in Central America caused it to be exposed to plant and animal migrations from both North and South America, adding to its biodiversity.

As their name implies, kingfishers feed on fish, and other small animals.  Their long, sharp beaks are obviously adapted for catching fish.  Kingfishers live widely in tropical climates, however the kingfishers in French Polynesia are endangered due to the loss of habitat.

We are showing photos of Bangkok, Thailand on our Viva la Voyage travel photo site this week.  We loved it, and we hope you will enjoy our photos.


brattcat said...

excellent capture.

Lois said...

Nice shot of a beautiful bird!

Sharon said...

This one I remember seeing. Such interesting birds.

Jack said...

I don't notice kingfishers in Florida. They are probably here, but they don't attract my attention.

Kate said...

I've never seen a Kingfisher but know several poems about them. I dedicate this one to the beautiful Kingfisher you photographed so well...I maxed it:

The Kingfisher
Mary Oliver

The kingfisher rises out of the black wave
like a blue flower, in his beak
he carries a silver leaf. I think this is
the prettiest world--so long as you don't mind
a little dying, how could there be a day in your
whole life
that doesn't have its splash of happiness?
There are more fish than there are leaves
on a thousand trees, and anyway the kingfisher
wasn't born to think about it, or anything else.
When the wave snaps shut over his blue head, the
remains water--hunger is the only story
he has ever heard in his life that he could
I don't say he's right. Neither
do I say he's wrong. Religiously he swallows the
silver leaf
with its broken red river, and with a rough and
easy cry
I couldn't rouse out of my thoughtful body
if my life depended on it, he swings back
over the bright sea to do the same thing, to do it
(as I long to do something, anything) perfectly.

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