The Night Stalker

Bird of the Day Series, Social Media Content

You have to be a special kind of person to try to observe Boat-Billed Herons. They’re easy enough to find. They live in mangrove forests, swamps, marshes and lagoons, all the way from Mexico to Argentina. So you have to wade into the jungle, and I’m told that mangrove forests smell horrible and are full of all kinds of unpleasant creatures.  

Photo: Hasan Ahmed

Once there, if you look up, you’ll see lots of Boat-Billed Herons.  They spend their days high in the trees, in large groups of up to 50, play-fighting, sleeping, preening, and whatever else birds do in their down time. They speak to each other with croaks, and by slapping their bills together, to make a popping sound, or what sounds like hands clapping. But they are known for a raucous, jeering, laughing call of ‘An, An, An’. This call can set off a forest-wide chorus, which is guaranteed to make your hair stand on end.

This is the only bird species whose chicks are born with two specialized teeth which allow them to peck through their shells. Once they’ve hatched, those teeth fall out. People have been known to try to collect these teeth. But if you go near a nest, you will be swooped upon and receive a bill to the face—with enough force to break your jaw. What’s worse, if you actually manage to touch a nest, the heron will likely abandon it and you’ll have dead chicks on your conscience. 

If you want to see these herons on the ground, you have to hang around until the sun sets. Half an hour later, they’ll will come down from the trees to feed. But only if there’s no light. If there’s any kind of light at all, including moonlight, they won’t feed. They can see because of those huge eyes, and they hunt by feel. They stand at the water’s edge, foraging for things like shrimp. Or they’ll wade in and stand perfectly still, then scoop with that bill. They’ll lunge for small fish; if they see something larger and really worth the effort, they’ll swim for it. 

If you do something dumb, like turn on a flashlight, this two-foot bird may stretch his neck way up, turn toward you and start slowly rocking from side to side. Or his crest will go up and he’ll grab a branch or twig and shake it at you. If you still haven’t taken the hint, he’ll reach his wings six feet to the sides and start stretching his neck toward you. That’s when you need to hit the road.