January 8th

This morning I woke up around 6AM, just as the sun came up. Being so close to the equator, the sun does not rise slowly, it goes from night to day in a matter of minutes. I had breakfast on the front patio of my hotel, which is in a very central area of San Jose. Small colorful houses line the narrow streets, plant life covers everything as if trying to reclaim the city for it's own.  Sitting next to me was an older man smoking a large pipe. I look the man over; he is wearing a field vest and has a large stack of bird books in front of him. This man has to be either a creepy bird stalker or an ornithologist (wait…is there a difference?).  I watch as he stares up at a large vine encrusted eucalyptus tree across the street while puffing away on his pipe. This guy has “legend” written all over.  I am curious as to what he is looking at. In a think accent, reminiscent of a Bond villain, he proclaims "Crimson fronted parakeet" concluding with a quick and assertive head nod.  The man then asks me what I am doing in Costa Rica. I explain the purpose of my stay and he hands me his business card, which reads; “Sahotra Sarkar, professor of integrative biology, department of philosophy, University of Austin Texas. He tells me to keep him well informed on the birds I find on the Nicoya Peninsula and suggests a few of his favorite destination. While finishing my coffee I identify 3 more life birds (birds that I have never seen). This may seem trivial to all but the avid birder, for whom it is a special moment.

            My driver, Raphael, picks me up. He is an energetic Tico (local Costa Rican) and informs me that he is an Ornithologist as well…Together him and Mr. Sarkar make up only the 2^nd and 3^rd Ornithologists I have ever met. The day is off to a great start. We drive towards Puntarenas, where I will take a ferry to get to the Nicoya Peninsula. San Jose is a busy city, with a stark divide between rich, and poor areas. There is a lot of construction, especially on the roads. Surrounding the city are large mountains, Raphael informs me that some are active volcanoes, and the ash cloud spuing from the tallest one confirms this. We wind our way through busy highways until we reach more rural roads. We hit the Pacific Ocean and drive north to the ferry terminal at Puntarenas. Soaring overhead are magnificent frigate birds (that is the actual common name, not a lame attempt at eloquence). They are superb flyers, masters of soaring with minimal energy expenditure. These birds can soar for weeks without landing. They even eat and drink on the wing, as they cannot land on the water (there feathers are not waterproof).  I haul my heavy bags onto the ferry and make the one hour crossing to meet my mentor Bruce Smith on the Nicoya peninsula. We drive along a winding road to Tambor tropical, where Bruce lives and runs his kayaking outfit.

            Tambor tropical is made up of a series of small luxury suites built of exotic hardwood such as teak and bloodwood. They are nestled under a group of large palm trees, directly adjacent to the ocean. There is central area with hot tub and outdoor pool and seating area typical of most tropical retreats. A tiki hut bar serves as the social center. The suites are spread out over the property which is teaming with vegetation and bird life. I unload my gear and talk with Bruce, trying to ignore the urge to seek out the sounds of the strange animals all around me. I quickly succumb to this curiosity and begin to have a hard time focusing on my conversations with Bruce. He picks up on this and tells me to go for a walk up the estuary, which empties into the ocean next to the resort. He says this with a wide grin on his face. I grab my binoculars and guidebooks and set-off up the river. By this point I am well aware of the level of biodiversity in Cost Rica, but am yet to experience it. What I find on that 30 minute walk will serve as a defining moment in my life, when I am introduced to the biologic potential of a tropical forest. I am greeting by a plethora of bird life…I count and record 26 new species in this short amount of time and miss dozens more.  A flock of snowy egrets glides over tricolored herons and little blue herons, which run and lunge after small fish. Brown pelicans and royal terns plunge into the surf in pursuit of small fish. A ringed kingfisher gazes down from his fishing perch, this species is the largest kingfisher in the Americas, twice the size of the familiar belted kingfisher. Small forest birds flutter through the tropical growth, there yellows, blues, and oranges mixing with red blossoms of flamboyant trees. Hummingbirds zip in all directions, freezing in place momentarily to grab a sip of nectar. I find a small pond with a bare throated tiger heron. I walk down to the ponds edge to get a better look and dip my toes in to cool off (Bruce later tells me that the small pond houses the resident crocodile). I watch a family of barred antshrikes glean small insects off trees. Kiskadees are the loudest and most boisterous residents, screeching and whistling as they fly from tree to tree. Scissortail flycatchers and tropical kingbirds perch high up on the treetops. They burst from their resting place to snag flying insects before returning to their perch in wait for the next suspended morsel.  I am absolutely floored by the abundance of life in this place, especially considering that I havn’t even left my resort yet. What awaits me in the depths of the protected habitat soon to be explored fills me with an excitement I havn’t felt since I was a young boy.

I return to the resort and hop up next to Bruce by the tiki bar. We enjoy a few cold beer with names like Imperial and Pilsner. I get to meet a small group of eclectic people and listen in on some Spanish conversacion. They invite us to a bon fire on the beach, I run and grab my head lamp. Around the fire are a mix of locals and tourists, about a dozen or so in total. I talk to one of the locals and learn a few words in Spanish, the only ones of which I can remember are Murcielago (bat, the flying kind, not the bludgeoning type) and pajaro (bird). Sizzling over the fire on a grill suspended by cinder blocks are a pile of oysters. I am informed that these were collected by a few of the locals. I ask them how and where they got them, they smile widely and inform me that they collected all one hundred or so oysters at about 60 foot depth…on one breath of air. We share a laugh.  One of the men nicknamed “Poncho” shucks and hands me an oyster after pouring Tabasco sauce and adding a firm squeeze of lime. I cradle it in both hands and inspect it with my headlamp. These oysters or “ostra” in Spanish are much bigger and more robust then those we are familiar with in Canada. Upon closer inspection of this oyster I notice a small crustacean floating amidst the lime and Tabasco sauce. Poncho notices my confused look and says “eat it all at once”. I deduce that the crustacean is a baby lobster, which lives inside the oyster shell until it’s large enough to go out on it’s own. Unfortunately for the lobster this symbiotic relationship is cut short. I shrug my shoulders and toss it back. I can feel a subtle crunch of the lobsters claws, but the shell is surprisingly soft. The oyster itself is very chewy and the texture is much like that of a Quohog. The flavor is awesome, and I eat many more before the night is out. After having a few more beer I feel adventurous (how strange) and decide to go for a walk to the edge of the ocean. I swing my headlamp towards the sound of crashing waves and set off. I am immediately confronted with a peculiar sight…the beach looks like a star map, with hundreds of constellations flickering on an off. Closer inspection reveals the source of the strange lights…spiders…thousands of spiders…their eyes reflecting the light of my headlamp like one thousand sparkling diamonds.  I continue on, eager to find more. I begin to hear activity near a pile of driftwood.  I find a large hermit crab in a spiny conch shell harassing a smaller less robust individual.  I seek out an even larger hermit and place him next to the couple, he bullies the small one as well. I give up on trying to settle the domestic disputes of hermit crabs and return to the fire. Poncho is the only one at the fire (how long was I gone for?) and is throwing the empty oyster shells into the flames, which produces a strangely pleasing smell. He tells me where he lives and the various critters that he has to remove from his house on a daily basis. He is an energetic man who swears like a sailor. He tells me that he lives with spiders and snakes, but that he doesn’t bother them as long as they don’t touch him, if they do he swiftly “punches those little &$@*’s in the face”.  Poncho and I go join Bruce at the Tiki bar and Bruce orders me a fish sandwich. The one sided dialogue that occurs during this meal is perhaps the strangest I have ever experienced, and as Bruce would say “straight out of the hitchhikers guide to the galaxy”. Poncho informs us that he is moving to San Jose to follow a strange but magnificent calling. He has been contacted by Moses, Elijah and Abraham and has crossed to the next dimension. He tells us that he has begun to channel energy and can now heal people, although he will never get any credit for this because he can’t prove it.  His confidence and charisma could inspire the masses, if only the masses were as bat-shit crazy as he was (in some place they are). I like this man and enjoy his hour-long rant about quantum physics, his conversations with Jesus, and the fifth dimension, which sounds like a great place by the way, judging by the elaborate description put forth by Poncho. We finish our fish sandwiches and Bruce decides it is time to drive Poncho home. He lives 5 minutes up the road, but we need to help him take his cinder blocks home (these served as our oyster roasters).  Bruce grabs the truck and Poncho and I clamber into the back amongst the pile of kayaking equipment. We drive up the rickety road, which snakes it’s way through the tropical forest. Vines climb up the power poles and spill over the road as the sounds of hundreds of insects and geckos roars up from the ditches. Ponchos house is located beside a wharf with a bar, so we get one last beer. Poncho sees some young attractive girls and tells me that he has to talk to them (I assume that Moses is putting him up to it, as I hear he was became quite the ladies man after parting the red sea).  I watch in the mirrored wall as Poncho asks for a kiss and is quickly dismissed. He comes back and says “You know, they say if you don’t use it you lose it…I think I lost it man”…I tell him not to worry about it. We drive home and I lay down to begin writing this entry. I quickly discovered a peculiar phenomenon that occurs while using a laptop at night in the worlds most biodiverse country; insects attracted to the soft glow permeate through the cracks of the doors and windows and latch on to the screen. For some this may seem like a horrific nightmare, for me the dozens of silhouetted shapes display the astounding diversity of the insect world.

 I have not had time to take any photos yet, but they will be coming soon! Love you all.