Back again from my family Christmas vacation within a vacation. At least, that’s what it felt like. True to form, my family works, exercises, and agonizes over plans far more when they are traveling than when they are not. I’m exhausted, back at work, and have over a week’s worth of wildlife photos to post and write about. So I’ll be breaking this past week into multiple parts, trying to play catchup.
So here goes.
The trip kicked off to a great start with a visit to the Cloud Forest Preserve, a place where, surprisingly, I had not returned to in some time. Within minutes, we managed a few blurry photos of the classic yet illusive Resplendent Quetzal, a male in full plumage, no less.
This was followed by howler monkeys, impressive ficus trees, some spectacular scenery, and a long, photogenic montage of hummingbirds at the feeders. We sat there, enjoying our lunches in full view of the colorful birds, and concluded that it had been a truly successful visit. We were perfectly content.
And then an olingo crawled down a tree in full view of everyone and proceeded to perform what I recognized from the more regrettable of college parties as a keg-stand on one of the hummingbird feeders. He power-chugged it dry in seconds, and then moved on to the next one while several dozen tourists shot photo after photo while the bewildered guides tried to explain why a usually nocturnal and shy animal was going on a junk food binge in broad daylight.
Which turned out to portend a week of similar encounters with wildlife that should otherwise have required at least a little effort to see. Things that I have raved about, along with other more seasoned naturalists, things that normally necessitate days spent in the field for a single, out-of-focus photo. The things that should be special, rare, illusive, but frustratingly refused to even act uncommon.
Manuel Antonio National Park had so much wildlife, I felt lame for taking pictures. Not even a kilometer down the main road we were directed by guides toward a white-tailed deer, a brown vine snake, and a three-toed sloth. Hacienda Baru–a less well-known and severely underrated alternative—turned out to be less active but still yielded a monkey fighting a green iguana, something I had not realized how much I had wanted to see until I witnessed it.
Turns out, my family are some of those people who just have the best luck when it comes to spending a brief time an area and seeing all the rare wildlife. The kind of people who usually drive me crazy with envy. Like the puma group a while back. But this time, I got to go along with them, and join in their unearned jungle fortune. To partake of their Beginner’s Luck Feast. And it was delicious. At last, I learned what it felt like to casually tell a lifer local naturalist of the day’s haul, and display pictures that would make them seethe in their rainboots.
And it only got better from there. Tune in tomorrow for “The Return of Elepigorse”.