Spooky Animals

October 31, 2025October 30, 2025 / Jet Eliot / 55 Comments

For our Halloween fun today, it’s a good time to look at wild animals that give us a slight chill. Wild animals have a rawness that is unpredictable and can indeed be spooky.

These are not even some of the very scariest animals (like a hyena) because I don’t want to give you nightmares.

We start with a fellow mammal, a Halloween specialty, the bat. This one is a spectacled flying fox. We came upon a colony in a forest in northern Queensland, Australia.

You can see in the photo below the bat looks bespectacled, for which it is named.

Some of the creatures here just look spooky because they’re different, but others really are spooky for how dangerous they can be.

Below is a male African buffalo. We were in Zambia, Africa and more than once our jeep came from behind tall grass and there one would be, glaring at us.

Took my breath away a few times.

His left eye is scarred and half-shut, no doubt the result of a fight. A typical male, like this one, weighs 1,650 pounds (750 kg).

This hippo, below, was scarred and surly. Some people may think hippos are kind of cute, but when you are near one in the wild, you immediately grasp the sobering presence they exude.

Hippos are fast–faster than they look.

Below are warthogs we came upon in Zambia; they had been digging for roots and tubers. Long, flat snouts, sharp tusks and soulless eyes. A strong-legged and very fast animal.

While on a safari walk, the guide told us to stay away from ground holes because the warthogs cleverly back into burrows, out of sight, and come charging out tusk first if they are threatened.

There are many intimidating African animals in the wild, but we’ll look at just two more, seen in Botswana.

The male lion, below. I think we all know to fear this formidable creature. They swagger confidently and have piercing golden eyes and when it’s the right time, they pounce and tear flash like the warriors they are.

This is a cobra we encountered. The snake’s hood (neck) is flared and its head is up, ready to strike.

Shimmery and golden in the African sun, but deadly.

Let’s hop on our witchy broomstick to head over to the western hemisphere, look at more spooky creatures.

Galapagos Islands. Far out in the Pacific Ocean about 600 miles (1,000 km) from the mainland, the wildlife has evolved in isolation, unaccustomed to humans.

These two wild iguana species, below, were not dangerous to be around, but just so incredibly unusual. Absolutely prehistoric looking.

The only living lizard that forages in the sea, marine iguanas are slow on land but graceful under water. We saw hundreds of them basking on rocks and even found a few in the water when we were snorkeling.

In 1835 Charles Darwin reported the Galapagos black lava rocks were frequented by these “most disgusting, clumsy lizards.” That seems a bit harsh–he probably found them on one of the days he was having stomach troubles.

Equally as curious-looking were the land iguanas. Here is a pair, below.

Peeling skin, crusty faces, long rat-like tails and gnarled claws.

Let’s head to Central America next. But yikes, this broomstick is so uncomfortable. Let’s switch to a magic carpet.

This American Crocodile, below, was churlishly staring at us as our little boat cruised by. Look at that mouth. Even when the chops are shut you know there’s pointy, sharp teeth lurking inside. How many teeth? About 65.

The array of spooky insects we have on this planet is immense. Many are very cool, but I’m taking it easy on you today. I’ve just got one for you, the assassin bug, below.

They’re called assassin bugs because they use an “assassination” method to hunt and kill. They ambush their prey, then grab them with their front legs, inject them with paralyzing saliva and then suck out the liquefied innards.

Heading north to America for the last two spooky creatures.

We were eating our sandwiches inside the car in a parking area when this big bison wandered very close to us, apparently attracted to the mud puddle. We could hear its steady, heavy breathing.

We were of course thrilled but a little nervous.

They’re faster than they look too, faster than most horses.

Lastly, my own backyard. We lived on an isolated mountain top and in the summer it was hot and dry.

This mature rattlesnake, below, hung out with us one summer.

We agreed not to bother each other, and it worked out. Why did we do that? Because the rattlesnake kept the rodent population under control.

Its head is in the center of the photo below, and it is looking at you. Rattles are on the right; there are 7 or 8 or 9?

It rattled at us a couple of times that summer, but we quickly got the message.

There’s something so gripping and powerful about wild animals. Add to that the dark superstitions of this holiday that go back centuries, and we have ourselves a spooky Halloween.

Happy Halloween!

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Great Horned Owl

September 8, 2023September 7, 2023 / Jet Eliot / 78 Comments

I was out at Point Reyes recently, Northern California, when I spotted a great horned owl. Usually we don’t see owls during the day, so this was a thrilling surprise.

It was cool and overcast, around noon; the bird was sleepy, resting atop a fencepost, photo below. You can see one of its powerful talons in this photo.

Great horned owls are widespread across North and South America. (See range map at end.) But we don’t see them too much during the day, as they are primarily nocturnal.

Named for their distinctive ear tufts or “horns,” this owl species has had a successful existence ever since human hunting of them was abolished in the mid-twentieth century.

Their adaptability to eat many kinds of prey and live in numerous habitats has helped this species thrive.

Bubo virginianus is a formidable hunter. Gifted with exceptional hearing and excellent night vision, they also have talons with immense crushing power.

More info: Great Horned Owl at All About Birds

What I like most about this owl is its profoundly silent flight.

I was once outside at night listening to a pair of great horned owls dueting. I could not see them (too dark), but they were not far away based on their frequent vocalizations–somewhere to the left.

There were two of us, Athena and I, and we were both very attentive to the owl pair. We listened and searched, scanned with our binoculars. But it was so dark we could see nothing.

Then in a flash the owl was hooting on the right.

One had flown right by us without either of us seeing it. It was like a magic act.

Thereafter, it was easy for me to see why so many cultures all the way back to ancient Greece have revered the great horned owl.

Their silent flight is attributed to three different kinds of feathers working together to cut the turbulence of their flapping wings and soften any sound of movement.

During daylight hours they are well camouflaged in tree canopies. The only reason we found this great horned owl, below, in Alaska, was because it was next to its juvenile offspring who was screeching. The sound attracted us.

The young one is below on the right. The adult looks a little miffed.

We had great luck in those dense woods in Alaska…here is what we found in the same woods an hour after finding the owls. My first moose.

Another time we found a great horned owl nest, below, on a neighbor’s forested property. They had phoned to tell us where to find the nest. It was a large, isolated patch of forest with a challenging trail. The nest was on a broken-off tree stump.

Good optics and some human acrobatics brought the scene closer…revealing owlets.

One day in April, a few years later, we were treated to a new generation of owlets at the same nest. It was a very rainy day.

Although many great horned owls live in forests, they also reside in suburban parks and residential areas, wherever there are nearby fields or open habitat for hunting.

They primarily eat rabbits and hares, rats, mice, and voles, but they will eat anything they can overtake.

This little guy, still on the nest, can’t overtake anyone yet, but that will come.

Great Horned Owlet, CA

It is usually during breeding season that the great horned owls are most easily heard. They breed earlier than all the other raptors; for us in Northern California it is mid-winter.

I am an early riser and cherish their deep hoots in the winter dawn several times a week. I sit in the dark on the front steps bundled up in a blanket, enchanted by my own private concert.

Here is what I hear:

Sound clip courtesy Wikipedia. Go to the arrow in the black box.

A mystical creature, celebrated for ages by people of all cultures. A ferocious raptor with astounding skills. A silent warrior and master of the night.

Written by Jet Eliot.

All photos in the wild by Athena Alexander.

Creatures of the Night

October 30, 2020 / Jet Eliot / 105 Comments

Giant Eagle Owl, aka Verreaux's Owl, Botswana, Africa — Giant Eagle Owl, aka Verreaux’s Owl, Botswana, Africa

When the sun goes down and the night turns black this Halloween, there are plenty of wildlife creatures to send shivers up the spine.

Owls, our most famous nocturnal creature, have serrated feathers for silent flight. They can glide right past you invisibly and soundlessly…all you know is a faint breeze on your face.

The shadows of the rainforest can make the small creatures large…

and the large creatures gigantic.

Baird's Tapir, female adult, Belize — Baird’s Tapir, female adult, Belize

And where would our scary nights be without bats? In Australia the bats are so big their scientific name is megabats. Here are two species of megabats.

Pair of Spectacled Flying Foxes, Australia

Grey-headed Flying Fox, Australia. Photo: Athena Alexander

In the Trinidad rainforest we discovered a steady stream of these Long-tongued Bats shooting out of the lodge basement every night at cocktail hour, like clockwork.

Long-tongued bats, Asa Wright Centre, Trinidad

A walk through the Australian rainforest brings out animals most of us have never heard of like brushtail possums and sugar-gliders.

Sugar Glider, Queensland, Australia. Photo: Athena Alexander.

Even creatures who are not nocturnal, like this lizard, lurk in the night…they have to sleep somewhere.

One night while Athena was photographing sugar gliders, cicadas came in, attracted to the lodge’s yard light.

I was admiring their bright green color and thinking how much bigger their cicadas were here in Australia, than ours at home. Bigger than my thumb.

I thought they were very cool…until one landed in my hair.

I screamed. Panicked and beat my hands through my hair like a crazy person.

And Africa has a very animated night life when it comes to wildlife. Moths as big as birds; and of course all the nocturnal mammals that are out hunting–lions, leopards, hyenas, to name a few.

Leopards, Zambia. Photo: Athena Alexander

The African savanna at night is like no other place on earth. Bumping along in a jeep past the black expanse, at first you see nothing. But then you start to see eerie eyes shining back at you. Pairs of eyes. Everywhere.

The eye shine has to do with a reflective layer behind the retina that helps the animal see better in the dark.

We were cruising along when we heard a lot of sloshing. The guide whispered for us to get our cameras ready.

Here’s what the light revealed.

The most terrifying night sound I have ever heard was in the Amazon rainforest: the howler monkeys. I’ve mentioned it before, but will include a sound clip again.

Howler monkeys are territorial so when one starts howling, announcing its supreme existence, they all start up. It has a stereo effect that permeates the forest in the most haunting way, sounds like a combination of tornado winds and deep-voiced gorillas.

Imagine hearing this in the dark as you’re walking to the bathroom.

Howler Monkey Vocalization

Wild monkeys, hyenas, leopards, owls, bats…a great way to get your Halloween sufficiently spooky. And while these animals may get your heart jumping, erratically even, they’re really not interested in hurting you…well, some aren’t.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Spectacled Owl with Fer-de-lance snake, Belize

Two Night Drives

June 14, 2019 / Jet Eliot / 79 Comments

Black and White Owl, Belize

It was the same territory we had traversed every day in this Belizean rainforest, but a very different world opened up once the jungle night unfolded.

Night drives involve a vehicle with a strong spotlight hooked up to the battery, and one or two guides who drive and spot. Athena and I stood in the back of a pick-up truck–hanging on, dodging palm fronds, and swatting at mosquitoes.

Baird’s Tapir, adult female, Belize

Tapirs were a great find, and one of our favorite adventures of the whole trip. More about that: Tapir Time.

But we came upon so many other creatures too.

Mottled Owl, Belize

Owls and bats are a big draw on night drives, and the Belizean forest did not disappoint. I’m always happy to see bats because it means there is a balance in the ecosystem. We saw about 20 individual bats on our two night drives. The lights on the vehicle brought them in, for the insects, then they’d spin away into the black oblivion.

We spotted this spectacled owl with a snake. When we drove off, we watched the owl carry the Fer-de-lance snake, highly venemous, back to a palm tree where we suspected there was a nest.

Spectacled Owl with Fer-de-lance snake

Owls and bats are not the only nocturnal flyers. There were also common pauraques and northern potoos, bird species in the nightjar family (Caprimulgiformes).

Pauraques were especially prevalent in this rainforest. When they aren’t flying, they are on the ground, camouflaged in leaf litter; this parent was hiding a little one.

Common Parauque adult sitting on top of chick

They feed on insects, and were attracted to the constant bug flurry around the lodge’s landscape lights. I heard them every night, so loud that sometimes they woke me up.

Sound of pauraque in night forest.

At one point, the driver spotted a wild cat called a margay. We had a two-second look at it before he or she disappeared into the forest. Camouflage spots, quick and stealthy…gone in a flash.

Margay. Photo: Brian Gratwicke, courtesy Wikipedia.

They are small, the size of an ocelot, native to Belize, and nocturnal. Their populations are declining, so we were happy to see this rare wild cat.

There were large moths and small; beady eyes looking out of the tangled trees; lots of croaking frogs. We came upon a raccoon who was hunting high in a tree; and deer in their nighttime mode, frozen in place by the spotlight. This mammal emerged out of the shadows and it took a few seconds to see it was a tapir.

Tapir (center) coming out of the jungle shadows

Every day we saw cattle in a pasture on the edge of the forest. At dawn we were there chasing parrots and toucans, while the cattle unabashedly stared at us. When we came back at night, their shining eyes were still staring at us.

Cattle in pasture

One night we were walking on the lodge grounds when we heard a plop, and found this cane toad, a native.

Cane toad, Rhinella marina

It’s cooler at night, and the moving vehicle creates a wind that feels luxurious after a long, sweaty day. But the best part of the night drives is seeing this mysterious nocturnal world come alive.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander except margay.

Baird’s Tapir, juvenile and mother, Belize

Hiking for Owls

April 16, 2013September 11, 2017 / Jet Eliot / 2 Comments

I’m working away on writing the second novel in the Anne Lamington series, so I have been glued to my desk this week. For fun I went for a hike with my partner on Sunday. Our neighbors e-mailed us about a nest in their woods, a very cool sighting, we decided to check it out.

We took the trail through the nearly-dry riverbed, climbed over boulders and rocks, jumped across puddles of water, and hiked a few miles into the forest. What we were looking for was a great horned owl nest with two nestlings in it. When we got close to the waterfall, where the nest was supposed to be, we were perplexed. Somehow the trail was gone and here we were in the middle of a riverbed wondering what to do.

Just then the shadow of a giant bird flashed, we looked up. The female great horned owl had flown right over us. A four foot wingspan cruising through a densely wooded forest, and she was silent. Her wings are designed to be silent. We were jazzed, we must be close.

Since we had lost the trail, we decided to cross-country up the side of the cliff, for the trail must be up there. We had been on this trail two years ago and had memories of it; it had to be very close, especially with the sighting of the mother owl.

We traversed the cliff diagonally, taking each section slowly and sensibly. We were careful not to put our foot down into a leaf-covered hole to avoid a twisted ankle, only grabbed onto trees that were firmly rooted in the ground, and stayed away from rocks that were loosely positioned. I guess it was when I had to place my highly-sensitive-to-poison-oak leg into a knee-high patch of poison oak that I realized I was in trouble. I didn’t panic though, because I just hate panic. I trekked on.

About two minutes later I had to let go of a stabilizing 30 inch downed tree trunk to move forward and realized I had nothing to grab onto. One slip and I would tumble down this rocky cliffside. I was on a nearly vertical cliff that was damp and crumbling, and I had nothing to hold onto. Now my legs were shaking too.

My partner is the photographer in the family, she had 40 pounds of gear on her back. We had to shimmy under a low tree so I held her pack while she did so, and this was when I had a taste of the weight she was carrying. We had made our way to the big tree. We had thought that after we got to this tree we would see the trail. But there was no trail in sight. She said, “What do you want to do?”

I heard my always-be-brave voice reply, “I’m so scared I can’t think.”

So we spent the next ten minutes climbing back down the way we had come. That incredibly undignified method of descending steep trails on your rear end came in handy. Back at the bottom of the cliff, I sat down on a mossy rock to get my legs to stop shaking while she left her pack with me and scouted around for the trail.

The only answer was to go back to the beginning of the trail and try again. She’s an intrepid photographer. Of course she would say that. I’m a novelist, thinking about a line on Downton Abbey that the Dowager said, “The trouble with nature is there’s so much of it.”

On the way back down we found where we had made our mistake, at a crucial trail fork. I still had rubber legs, declared I was going back to the trailhead and she could try again on her own, I’d be glad to wait for her. She agreed and hiked off.

I went to the trailhead and leaned against a big mossy rock by the creek. I listened to the water and the wind. I thought about the sensation I was having of my hair mixing with the rock’s hair. I didn’t have a book to read so I thought about the book I’m writing and the new beginning I’m doing. I willed myself to not feel like a failure for not going back.

She made it back fine, said she thought she got a few good shots. She found the nest and the two chicks. That’s what this photo is. I waited for the inevitable disappointment comments about what she wanted to get but didn’t. Photographers are like that. Then she added, “I should have spent the whole day there to get the best shots.”