Continental takeoff

What would it be like to stand near the Strait of Gibraltar, where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Mediterranean Sea, and watch migrating birds sweep overhead on their way to Africa?

Not many people would ask that question. Fewer still would sign up for a bird tour to southern Spain to get the answer. But that's exactly what my husband and I did this past fall.

We traveled to the 9-mile-wide strait, which is used by birds seeking the shortest route across open water. European raptors have been crossing the Mediterranean en route to their winter homes for eons, a sight that attracts birders from all over the world.

From our base in a small seacoast town, it was a short drive each day to the valleys the raptors sweep through on the way to the African continent. Looming in the distance, behind a perpetual mist, was their destination: Morocco.

"Oh, oh, oh, it's a very good bird. Yes, I see it, it's a ... it's a ... it's a ...," shouted Josele Saiz, our Spanish guide, the first day.

Frequently carried away by his enthusiasm, Josele often forgot to complete his sentences, a pattern that gave us the giggles as the week advanced. This "very good bird" turned out to be a booted eagle, a smallish raptor about the size of our red-tailed hawk. It gets its name for its light-colored leg feathers, which resemble boots.

Josele didn't just forget to complete his sentences; he became nearly speechless when a rough-legged buzzard (same as our rough-legged hawk), a Montagu's harrier (similar to our harrier) and a huge griffon vulture (a bald-headed bird with a feathery ruff) came flying by.

Fantastic, familiar birds

One day, we toured Europe's largest national park, El Coto Doñana. (As we were bumping over inland dunes, we learned that parts of "Lawrence of Arabia" had been filmed here.) In the park, a naturalist advised us to watch the tree line. Sure enough, two big, black Spanish imperial eagles swept into view, a highlight of the trip. Only about 500 of these secretive eagles remain in the region, so we were very lucky to see them.

Later, we went to a hilltop hawk-watch site, very much like Duluth's Hawk Ridge. On the day we visited, the raptors were few and far between, although a "home bird" did fly over: an osprey.

The drive back to the hotel revealed one of the things that makes raptor migration increasingly dangerous along the Spanish coast: Thousands of wind turbines twirled their blades on the same ridges and valleys used by the birds.

Another day, when we moved inland to find wading birds and songbirds, we were wowed by the sight of hundreds of storks probing through a recently cut rice field, searching for frogs. These birds, exotic to us, were joined by Florida-like birds such as ibises, spoonbills and even flamingoes. And several species of the hovering hawks, known as harriers, helicoptered overhead hunting for rodents, just as they do back home.

As Josele dropped us at the airport in Malaga, he advised calmly and warmly, "You must come back for more of our Spanish birds."

We just might.