We got up at 430 in the morning to catch the 6 o’clock ferry off the peninsula. The sun was just rising over the horizon as we boarded the vessel. Not one to pass up good light, I readied my camera and positioned myself at the bow of the boat. It was a great time to photograph some of the seabirds that inhabit the inner gulf. I was particularly interested in photographing boobies. The ferry route passes by a colony of Brown Boobies and these birds will sometimes follow the ferry and ride the updraft created by the boat. After about an hour I was lucky to have a small group show up. Brown boobies are spectacular divers, they soar high above the water before plunging into the ocean after fish and squid. They hit the water head first with their wings held back in flawless aerodynamic form. From my high vantage point I could see the long twisting bubble trails left behind as the feathered torpedos shot through the water.
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| Brown booby |
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| Brown booby |
Small groups of brown pelicans also began to fish next to the ferry their ruffled plumage lit up by the first sunrays of the day.
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| Brown pelicans |
Once back on land we began to drive down the pacific coast, passing by some of the most beautiful but dangerous coastline I had ever seen. The towns along the way were thick with tourists and surfers. The massive waves that pounded the beaches gave one a profound sense of smallness. We stopped at a bridge, and Carlos and Jaimy directed me to exit the vehicle and take a look at the river below. Dozens of crocodiles basked upon the gravel sandbar, mouths agape. Egrets carefully tiptoed their way around the ancient creatures. Some of these crocodiles were the over 15 feet long, large enough to devour any animal (including humans) foolish enough to venture too close to the river.
The next stretch of road entered into mile and miles of palm plantations; monocultured palm trees grown to produce palm oil. No birds, not even in the freshwater lagoons that are always so rich with species harbored a single feathered friend.
We than entered into a large river valley…there was very little water flowing in the river, but the width of the dried up channel hinted at the torrent that must rage during the height of the rainy season. The forested hillsides were scarred with the spilled remains of huge mudslides. The road was often reduced to one lane, a quick repair after being destroyed by the falling earth. We crossed over the river and made the final climb to the top of the mountains. Paved roads turned to gravel and soon we arrived at a small house that overlooked the rainforest canopy, surrounded by taller mountains whose steep slopes were cleared for cattle ranching. I got out to explore the property; it was a single story house, with a tiled porch that wrapped around all sides. At one end was a smaller structure, inside was a grill raised by cinderblocks. Hot coals glowed underneath and the sweet smell of a warm summers campfire filled the air. Young chickens pecked and scratched their way around the house. Orange trees were planted all around the property.
The bird sounds resonating from every shrub and tree were a promising sound. I readied my camera and walked through the small orchard, it seemed like every tree held at least three different species, most of which I had never seen before. Not before long I heard my Spanish name ringing out…”Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek! Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!” Jeimy had spotted a Toucan that had just flown to the top of the hill and perched on a dead tree. It announced its presence with a yelping yo-YIP, a-yip, a-yip!! It was my first sight of a wild toucan, and they are certainly among the most beautiful and unusual birds I have ever photographed, both in appearance and behavior. This is the largest toucan species in Costa Rica, and one of the largest in the world. It is called the Chestnut-mandibled Toucan…
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| Chestnut-mandibled Toucan |
After spending some time with the Toucan we all piled into the pick-up truck to go for a drive to the farm where Carlos’ father raised cattle, pigs and chickens. Carlos’ nephew, Ian, a young and enthusiastic 13 year old rode in the back of the flat bed with me. We drove along dirt roads through mountain pasture and pockets of rainforest. Ian would pound on the roof of the truck whenever he spotted a bird he deemed as photo-worthy and I would jump out to get a closer look. It was like having my own personal guides and their enthusiasm and support contributed greatly to my experience. Birds were everywhere, sometimes it even seemed like birds grew on trees...
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| Cattle Egrets |
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| Hoffman's Woodpecker |
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| Yellow-head Caracara |
We arrived at the farm, or “finca” just as the sun was beginning to set behind the mountain. The setting sun lit up the lush mountain-side that was criss-crossed by miles of fence posts and scattered with the remains of an ancient forest.
That night Jaimy and Carlos introduced me to the “bird man” of San Vito. The man spoke little english, we sat in his living room and drank whisky on the rocks. He was an eloquent speaker, I had little idea of what he was talking about but was sure that this man could quite possibly be the former president of a Latin American country. I brought out my bird book and before long he was riffling through the pages enthusiastically pointed out “his” birds. After a long Spanglish conversation, we came up with a plan; I was to come to his house at 5:30 the following morning so that he could show me his birds. I was delighted, we had one more shot of whisky accompanied with a small piece of salted meat which I was told later was horse.
Night time in Costa Rica means insects. Big ones, small ones, hairy ones, spiny ones. I sat out on the patio waiting to see what the glow of the porch lights would attract. The house had an open air design, with vents running along the top of the walls and doors that were always open. The jungle was invited inside, and it’s residents came and went as they pleased. Many of these were small beetles and moths, but every now and then a giant would fly in that was not as easily ignored.
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| Giant leaf Katydid (length: 5 inches) |
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| Giant red-winged grasshopper (length: 5.5inches, wingspan: 10 inches) |
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| Rothshildia Triloba Silkmoth (wingspan: 6 inches) |
The morning brought a thick fog which rolled over the nearby hills and made each breath heavy with moisture. The sun could barely be seen as a faint orange disk through the heavy mist as we drove along the gravel road to the birdman’s house. He was cutting up plantains outside when we arrived. He brought me to the back of his house where he had a small wooden platform built against a backdrop of thick forest. He spread the cut up plantains across the platform and directed me to a chair back on the porch. Within seconds there was a frenzy of activity at the feeder. Birds of all colors were flying in to feed on the bananas. Most of these birds were colorful species of tanagers and honey-creepers; birds who specialize in feeding on fruits and nectar. They are among the most colorful birds in the world. They were very shy, and would fly away if I approached too closely; I had to be content with photographing the event from a distance.
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| Red-legged honeycreeper (male) |
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| Speckled tanager (foreground) and Red-legged honeycreeper |
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| Golden-hooded tanager with blue-gray tanagers |
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| Red-legged honeycreeper (female foreground) and Summer tanager |
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| Green honeycreeper (male) |
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| left to right - Red-legged honeycreeper, Clay-colored robin, Silver-throated tanagers |
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| Golden hooded tanager, Cherrie's tanager |
Once the birds were full we returned to the farm where four horses were saddled up and ready to ride. Carlos told me to pick which one I wanted. I made my way from horse to horse. The first two took one look at me turned the other way. The next was obviously pregnant…I had heard anecdotal evidence of the temperament of a soon to be mom, and decided to leave this one to someone else. The final horse was grey in color and stood about 15 hands, a fine looking steed; I climbed on top. Although I had ridden horses when I was young, it had been at least 6 years since I had been on one. It felt great to finally ride again, and in such a beautiful place. We made our way up the steep mountain, our horses making quick work of the rugged slope. We came to a small coral with a number of cow scattered in surrounding pasture. They were all branded with symbols to mark ownership. There was a particularly hefty bull that did not belong. Carlos, his father and his uncle worked together to round up the bull and return him to the proper pasture. I would like to say I helped but I just tried to stay out of the way of the large animal, failing to display the fearlessness of my horse, who seemed content to stand in the bulls way. We continued up the mountain, driving the bull forward, every now and then one of the men would surge forward to cut the bull of as he tried to change route. At the top of the mountain you had an amazing view of the forests and valleys below.
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| My steed (on left) |
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| View from the top |
On the way back Carlos asked me if I would like to eat pork. I eagerly agreed and we set off to “get the pork”. We came to a small house, Carlos talked with a few men out front and then we walked around back. There was a small coral…I than realized what “get the pork” meant. Although I did not enjoy seeing a pig get slaughtered I saw it a necessary experience for one who eats a lot of meat. We loaded the 60 kilo animal on to the back of the truck and headed for the house. We ate the pork over the next two days in a variety of different delicious dishes.
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| Picking up the pork |
That evening, Carlos and I were getting ready to go for a walk through the rainforest in the valley but before we could leave my Spanish name echoed from the house and excited fingers pointed towards the tree tops. “Neeeeek! Toucans!” I looked to see that a colorful party had invaded the orchard. I am not sure if “party” is the proper collective noun for a group of toucans, but it certainly feels appropriate to me. These toucans were a different species than the one I had seen before. They bounced from tree to tree, flying short distances with heavy wing beats that gave away their position in the moss covered undergrowth. Once perched, they displayed the typical strangeness unique to toucans, scanning around with their bright yellow eyes in search of fruits, insects and small animals. I grabbed my camera and joined them. They are the aptly named “Fiery-Billed Aracari” and they are awesome.
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| Fiery-billed Aracari |
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| Fiery-billed Aracari |
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| Fiery-billed Aracari |
After the Aracari party, we went for a walk into the thick rainforest of the valley below the farm. We made our way across the pasture to the edge of the forest that stood looming above like a living fortress. The deafening sounds of cicadas rang from the tree-tops. Every available space was overgrown with vegetation. Carlos looked at me with a grin “watch where you step” he said...
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| Rainforest vegetation |
In places, strange pathways crossed the trail where all the debris had been cleared away to leave a tidy corridor about 6 inches wide. Along these “highways” moved thousands of puzzle-piece shaped leaf cuttings…closer inspection revealed tiny leaf-cutter ants at work. Leaf cutter ants don’t eat leaves; they are farmers, harvesting leaves and bringing them into special underground chambers to nourish a subterranean fungus upon which they subsist.
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| Leaf-cutter Ants |
Next to the path grew many strange flowers, this one has a Spanish name that Carlos told me, but I prefer to call it “Labios de Jungla” or Jungle Lips!
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| Jungle Lips |
We traveled down to a riverbed that held little water. Clear pools filled with small fish were scattered about amongst the boulder. We walked up in river until we were met by a large rock wall that must be an impressive waterfall when the rains come.
The next day they took me further down into the valley to see the aboriginal people of Costa Rica. As per usual, the car ride was interrupted by the appearance of a new bird. High up above a hill I could see the unique silhouette of a Swallow-tailed Kite. I jumped out of the car and ran up to the top of the hill, feeling the warm breeze of the thermals the bird was riding. Soon I found myself looking down upon the outstretched wings of these masters of flight…
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| Swallow-tailed Kite |
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| Swallow Tailed Kite over brush fire |
We continued on our quest to find the aboriginals, parking the car and crossing over a small walking bridge suspended on cables over a river. On the other side was a small group of dwellings scattered through the forest. We approached one and I got to go inside, they were selling all sorts of handmade items from clothing to jewelry, all made with the same bright colors of the long dresses worn by the women.
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| Aboriginal homestead |
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| Aboriginals |
That evening brought a heavy rain shower. I was outside with my camera when it hit. I heard a loud roar and turned to see a wall of torrential rain coming towards me, it had to be within 100 feet. I looked up, not a drop was falling on me, I suddenly realized that I had better head for cover and made a quick dash for the house. It rained over 2 inches in 30 minutes leaving the air fresh and filled with birds. I found a group of toucans trying to dry out from the downpour, they seemed much less enthused about the rain than I was…
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| Fiery-billed Aracari |
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| Fiery-billed Aracari |
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| Fiery-billed Aracari |
The next morning was once again shrouded in a thick vale of fog. I took one last walk around the grounds, not knowing when i’d ever be back to such a place. The birds were out singing and still drying off from the previous evenings rain. Even the vultures provided a brief photogenic moment as they dried out their wings against the rising sun.
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| Rainforest canopy |
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| Black Vulture drying out |
I tried to reason with Carlos and Jaimy, saying that they could leave me with there with the birds and tell Bruce that I was eaten by the Chupacabra. I even worked out an agreement with Carlos’ father involving milking of the cows and fixing of the fence posts to pay my way. They thought I was joking. I thanked the family and snapped a quick photo we headed on our way back to the Nicoya peninsula.
Another thank-you to Carlos, Jaimy and their family. Their kindness and hospitably was much appreciated and made for an experience I will not soon forget. Hope everyone is having a good March break back home, miss you all
Cheers!
-Nick
San Vito Bird List
Silver-throated tanager
Golden-hooded tanager
Summer tanager
Speckled tanager
Blue-gray tanager
Cherrie’s tanager
Green honeycreeper
Red-legged honeycreeper
Hoffman’s woodpecker
Buff-throated saltator
Clay colored robin
Bananaquit
Black headed vulture
Turkey vulture
Gray headed Chachalaca
Variable seed eater
Yellow-faced grassquit
Blue-black grassquit
Squirrel cuckoo
Tropical Screech owl
Tinamou (unknown species)
Common paraque
Swallow-tailed Kite
Baltimore Oriole
Chestnut headed Oropendula
Broad-winged hawk
Savannah Hawk
Roadside Hawk
Great tailed Grackle
Tropical Kingbird
Great kiskadee
Social Flycather
Piratic Flycather
Streaked flycatcher
Chestnut-manibled Toucan
Fiery-billed Ararcari
White-crowned parrot
White-collared swift
Yellow-headed Caracara
Smooth billed Ani
Cattle Egret
Black swift
