About a mile after passing the main gate, we drove past a large, black bird with a white neck that looked like it had on a bad, black wig, sitting on a post just off the roadway. I slammed on the brakes, then changed my mind and drove to the first place to turn around. We drove back slowly, not expecting the bird to still be there. But still sitting on a power transformer post waiting for us was a Crested Caracara. It didn't fly off and Taz didn't bark as we rolled to a stop directly alongside its perch. It simply watched us as we turned on our cameras began snapping away.
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