Our last
four days in Costa Rica went by in a flash yet at the same time seemed to be as
full of experiences and sightings as the first nine days. On these days we were
on the more lush Caribbean slope, first in the foothills of the Tilarán range,
which are something of a transition zone from the Central range and the
Guanacaste range of volcanic peaks. We spent a full morning near the Arenal
Observatory Lodge, and our pre-breakfast walk was surprisingly successful
(being in a patch of secondary forest adjacent to over-manicured gardens), with
a family group of Song Wrens (the male singing his fascinating song that alternates
so rapidly between short, pure whistled tones at varied pitches and harsh
chuckling phrases that it seems two birds must be singing at once), a
Black-headed Nightingale-Thrush, and a pair of Spotted Antbirds being the main
highlights. The porterweed in the gardens attracted several hummingbirds
including our only Black-crested Coquette, a female. We also stopped to take
pictures of this flowering bush in the dark understory, and my guess as to the
caper family (with its brush of many stamens) led me to the name Capparidastrum discolor.
On our late
morning walk, the only bird photo I managed was of this Great Curassow in the crown of a tall tree, where it had been singing its nearly subsonic humming
growl, making it very hard to locate.
We also had
our best views of a beautiful male Scarlet-thighed Dacnis in a small fruiting tree
just off the trail (made especially beautiful by its direct comparison to the
utterly drab Ochre-bellied Flycatcher also feeding from the fruits), and a pair
of Buff-rumped Warblers countersang, probably reaffirming their territorial boundaries
right along the trail. So wrapped up in his business, one came with in a few
feet of our group several times, and the ringing song at that close range was
almost painfully loud. Sometimes I’ve had to resort to using playback to bring
one of these birds closer for even brief views, but this was by far a more
satisfying experience.
We had the
next full day at La Selva, the famous research station of the Organization for
Tropical Studies. While it was bustling with students and a few independent
researchers, it’s also a magnet for groups of ecotourists, especially birders,
who pay an entrance fee as well as for a local guide, the help from whom I’ve never
been disappointed in. We arrived before La Selva officially opened at 7:00,
which fortunately put us at the right spot at the right time to see seven
gorgeous male Snowy Cotingas gathering in three trees on either side of the
entrance drive, posturing, giving short display flights, and displacing each
other on branches. About the size of an American Robin but chunkier and with a
shorter tail, this oddly silent bird (especially odd considering that some
members of the cotinga family are among the loudest of all birds) is special
for being one of very few all-white passerines in the world.
This visit
we were accompanied by Joel, a very good birder who has worked here for many
years as a guide and a field biotech for researchers. He asked me where we had been
in Costa Rica and which birds we hadn’t seen yet, and when I mentioned Rufous
Motmot, any puffbirds, tinamous, and quail-doves, he chose to take us down the
STR, a wide, paved path with good views of the understory as well as lower
areas of the canopy. But we didn’t get far, as the bird activity near the
bridge was high. Collared Aracaris were coming into the fruiting bushes just a
couple feet away, impatiently hoping we’d move on, while a large group of
Crested Guans walked nonchalantly nearby and our first Crowned Woodnymph and
Black-cheeked Woodpecker foraged in another tree. These two Crested Guans were
just a couple trees farther along, possibly part of a big extended family.
The Queen
Mary Bromeliads, Aechmea mariae-reginae,
were in full bloom this year, mostly high in the trees, but this one was below
eye level from the vantage point of the foot bridge crossing the Sarapiqui
River.
We moved on
down the trail, stopping to marvel at leafcutter ants, millipedes, and the
occasional bird. Not far down the trail, Joel stopped to show us large holes dug
into the dirt banks on either side of the trail where he thought Rufous Motmots
might be currently nesting. Sure enough, a few steps farther, he spotted this
giant of motmots perched motionless in the midstory.
Chrysomelidae
is a huge family called leaf beetles, and the subgroup known as tortoise
beetles are particularly attractive. This one is Ischnocodia annulus and has been called the Target Tortoise Beetle.
If it
weren’t for Joel, we might have walked right past this Black-capped
Pygmy-Tyrant. I had heard one in the canopy earlier, but ignored it, as seeing
one of the world’s smallest passerines is almost impossible when they are
singing from the tallest trees as they usually do. But this one was bringing
food to a nest, a hanging pouch dangling from the petiole and hidden behind the
blade of a large philodendron leaf just 10 feet above the trail.
Belonging to
Costaceae, one of the families in the ginger order (and strangely unknown in
the temperate zone even as a house plant or ornamental), this is Costus malortieanus.
Another bird
I had mentioned to Joel as one missing from our list, Black-throated Trogon
appeared in spades.
Recognizing
the cauliflorous fruits on this vine as a member of the family Sapindaceae
(looks reminiscent of ackee, with a bright aril meant to attract dispersers)
helped me find the name Paullinia
fasciculata on the Digital Flora of La Selva website.
We then took
a narrower trail back for lunch, hoping for more understory birds. Joel was
pointing out an active nest of a Lesser Swallow-tailed Swift on a huge tree
trunk overhead (which I failed to photograph for some reason, except for maybe
because it paled in comparison to the one I found with Jake, Paul, and Steve in
northern Peru last May) when one of the tour participants noticed this small Eyelash
Pit Viper just below (my) eye level an arm’s reach from the trail. It is indeed
venomous, apparently with a very potent venom, but it is not an aggressive
species, and strikes seem to be very rare considering how common it is and how easy
it is to overlook. It’s possible that the species is reluctant to strike in
defense unless really bothered –
every one I have ever seen has remained utterly motionless and probably
has no reason to believe it’s visible. But we were warned to remain at least as
far as most of its body length. It uses only the very last loop of its tail
around the branch as an anchor and can strike at a distance of a the remainder of
its body length.
This is a
refuse pile of Atta colombica, the Surface-dump
Leafcutter Ant.
Rubyspot
damselflies of at least two species were here and there along the trail,
hunting from the tips of leaves at eye level. La Selva has several species, and
I’m guessing that this one is a male Hetaerina
titia. Joel said that expert odonatologist Bill Haber had just been here,
updating the La Selva species list, even discovering a new species of damselfly
in the process.
After lunch
back at the main center for lunch, we took a short break when I shined my
headlamp into a small hole in a dirt bank right by the gift shop. In it was
this Yellow-spotted Night-Lizard, Lepidophyma
flavomaculatum, which retreated deeper in before I could get a photo better
illuminated by my flash.
This vine in
the family Marcgraviaceae is Souroubea
gilgii, normally attractive to honeycreepers and hummingbirds, but it
remained bird free and merely beautiful while we were watching.
Also during
our break I found this Passiflora
auriculata passionflower, which surprised me by being wonderfully fragrant,
like chocolate and strawberries. Most passionflowers have no smell, and some
are even foul smelling.
I was amazed
to see this female Fasciated Antshrike and her mate at eye level in the bushes
by the gift shop, so far from the canopy where I’ve spent many neck-breaking
minutes trying to bring one in with playback. Like a few other birds we saw
here, they were on a foray out of their usual element to collect nesting
material.
We took
another walk back in the forest, finding a pair of Broad-billed Motmots.
This
Gray-waisted Skimmer, Cannaphila
insularis, was perching in low vegetation right next to the trail.
Joel took us
to a tented leaf where these amazing Honduran White Bats were roosting. They
had been using it for about two weeks by now, and we were among hundreds of
people who had seen them, one by one. The leaf was only about four feet off the
ground, well visible about ten yards from the main trail, but a narrow path had
been worn to it where one could carefully walk without unduly shaking the
surrounding vegetation, kneel and look up under the leaf (unfortunately placed
directly below a very bright hole in the distant canopy, making a good photo
impossible). The tiny 1 ½-inch bats had created the tent by biting along either
side of the central vein of the leaf. Many species do this, but I had seen this
one just one previous time, and I
think it was my first visit to La Selva in March 1998.
One last
photo from La Selva is of this spider lily relative, Crinum erubescens, growing along a narrow stream in the deep forest
understory and visible from a short foot bridge.
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