
Black Vulture
A highly social scavenger whose broad circles and white wing patches are familiar above both cities and wild rivers.
Browse the published Explore collection for Mexico. Open a discovery for its field guide, practical details, and background.

A highly social scavenger whose broad circles and white wing patches are familiar above both cities and wild rivers.

A versatile diving bird found from Pacific harbors to Amazon rivers, often drying its wings on the nearest exposed perch.

The small, vocal hawk of tropical roadsides often watches from a wire or bare branch before dropping onto prey.

A loud, adaptable tropical flycatcher whose name echoes its ringing kis-ka-dee call.

The calm blue-gray tanager of Amazonian gardens often appears in pairs wherever fruit and open canopy meet.

A fast, flexible hunter able to follow rodents into spaces far smaller than its apparent body length.

The best-known blood-feeding mammal is also a highly social bat that shares food with unsuccessful roost-mates.

A Brown Rat problem is a route-finding problem: identify the stocky ground-level rat, map fresh sign to food and entry, clean contamination wet, then close the building before measuring whether control worked.

The agile roof-climbing rat of ports and warm cities differs sharply from its heavier, burrowing relative.

A broad-headed Neotropical toad carries large toxin glands behind its eyes—an effective defense that makes a curious dog, not a quiet observer, the urgent concern.

A powerful tree-dwelling herbivore that can escape predators by diving from branches directly into water.

A human-transported tropical gecko that patrols walls beneath lights and announces itself with surprisingly audible chirps.

A sky-blue thrush that hunts from fence posts and readily adopts nest boxes across Missouri’s open countryside.

A round, secretive quail more often found by its clear bob-WHITE whistle than by a clean view.

The familiar lawn bird whose upright pauses, orange breast, and liquid dawn song reward a much closer look.

A small-headed dove writes its identity in motion: pointed tail, white tail corners, black wing spots, explosive takeoff, and a high mechanical whistle quite separate from its mournful voice.

Missouri’s restored woodland giant scratches for mast by day, flies to a high tree roost at dusk, and turns spring clearings into a careful performance of gobble, strut, fan, and low drumming.

The black-necked goose behind migrating V formations, urban grazers, family processions, and loud seasonal skies.

A widespread dabbling duck whose glossy drake is obvious—and whose variable females reward more careful identification.

A long-legged ambush hunter that can look prehistoric at close range and surprisingly compact when folded in flight.

A broad-winged raptor commonly seen on poles, thermals, and highway trees, yet extraordinarily variable in plumage.

A fish-eating sea eagle whose recovery turned a once-imperiled national emblem back into a familiar sight over major waters.

A long-tailed scavenger rides warm air on raised wings, teetering with few flaps while its pale flight feathers flash across the entire trailing edge.

The adaptable deer behind dawn roadside silhouettes, garden browsing, spotted fawns, antler cycles, and flashing white alarm tails.

A slender, intelligent canid equally capable of living in prairie, desert, farm country, forest edge, and major cities.

A hefty tree squirrel of farms, parks, and open oak country, often warmer-colored and more deliberate than the eastern gray.

A compact rabbit that freezes into invisibility, then bounds for dense cover with its cotton-white tail flashing.

A nocturnal generalist with a pouch, fifty teeth, a grasping tail, and a famous involuntary shutdown response.

A mostly nocturnal digger that advertises powerful chemical defense with bold black-and-white fur and patient warnings.

A broad-tailed rodent that fells trees, stores branches, builds dams, and creates habitat used by entire freshwater communities.

Missouri’s statewide wild cat often appears first as a nearly straight track line through mud, then as long hind legs, cheek ruffs, and a short tail slipping between brush and clearing.

The mouse most closely tied to people is best identified by a nearly bare scaly tail and muted gray-brown body—and best managed by sealing the building, not chasing the animal.

Missouri’s open-country Peromyscus is a large-eyed seed cacher whose crisp brown-over-white coat is recognizable, but whose indoor traces demand sanitation rather than close inspection.

Missouri’s largest frog broadcasts a deep jug-o-rum from permanent water, where one missing pair of back folds separates it from the smaller Green Frog.

Kansas’s flute-voiced grassland emblem is often identified by song before its yellow breast ever comes into view.

Kansas’s state reptile crosses prairie with a yellow-starred shell and a durable mental map—one reason moving it to “better habitat” can do lasting harm.

A boldly marked prairie amphibian that spends most of its life hidden beneath Kansas soil.

Kansas’s state fish navigates opaque water with eight barbels and taste receptors across its skin, but the fastest identification begins behind it—with a deeply forked tail.

A talkative burrowing rodent whose clipped lawns and tunnel systems reorganize an entire patch of prairie.

North America’s smallest falcon hunts Kansas roadsides from wires, poles, and wind-held hovering flight.

A pale summer flycatcher turns Kansas utility lines into launchpads for pink-flashed aerial loops.

This grassland bunting broadcasts its own name from Kansas weeds, fences, and bluestem each summer.

A small, long-legged owl stands in daylight beside a prairie-dog mound, using another mammal’s excavation as nest, refuge, and lookout.

A large spotted woodpecker hunts ants on Kansas lawns and prairie edges, then flashes a white rump and yellow—or sometimes reddish—flight feathers when disturbed.

One Cheyenne Bottoms cattail can hold two identification lessons: a glossy male turning hidden red shoulders into a territorial flag, and a heavily streaked female moving low enough to be mistaken for a sparrow.

A shorebird without a shore runs across Kansas gravel, flashes two breast bands, and sometimes performs an apparently broken wing to move danger away from eggs hidden in plain sight.

A Western Kansas hare becomes a pair of black-tipped ears, a still body in a shallow form, and finally a flashing black upper tail carried through long open-country bounds.

Kansas’s broadest weasel reads the prairie from below, opening prey burrows with long foreclaws and leaving fans of soil that may outlast the animal’s brief nocturnal appearance.