It was probably the hottest day I had ever experienced. We were deep in the jungle in Costa Rica, halfway up the side of a steep hill. The temperature was at least 90 and the humidity was at least 95%. Hot. Under the jungle canopy doesn't always mean shade, it can mean airless. It IS shadier, but somehow, the wet air doesn't feel cooler. It was probably about ten-thirty in the morning, so it was only going to get hotter. I thought of the novel Green Mansions. Huge, blue morpho butterflies drifted and floated across the trail, the color of the summer sky at dusk.
We were on a birding tour to Costa Rica with a wonderful guide, Olga, who hailed from Los Angles Audubon Society. Olga had been to Costa Rica at least twenty times and she knew the birds and where they'd be.
There were twelve of us and we ran the usual gamut from almost rank beginner to very serious lister. I was somewhere in the middle, a committed birder but new to birding in this environment. We were staying at a beautiful Rancho, tucked into a valley at the base of a rain-forested mountain, where we rested in comfort and coolness after a busy day birding. The rooms were spacious and cool, the food local and delicious. Norte Americanos feel very at home there. There were, however, some basic lessons to learn. On the first night, I had to ask the proprietor to kindly remove the giant flying insects that had entered my room via screenless window. That was the last time I forgot the rule: close windows, then turn on lights.....
Each day we would take a trip to a different birding area. We weren't too far from the sea, so one day we spent shore-birding. One day at the sewage treatment plant, one on the open plain, and so on.
This was day two and we were looking for birds in the forest canopy. If you've never been in a tropical rain forest, it's a delight. The forest floor is soft and damp, and you're on a trail surrounded by shoulder high shrubs, forty-foot-plus tall trees and vines looping and twining everywhere. There are a zillion birds calling, but wow, they're hard to see in all that green cover. You may have heard of 'warbler neck'. It's the stiff and sore neck that results after a day of looking almost directly overhead, holding a pair of binoculars to your eyes. There's really no other way to see these little flitty guys, as they move quite quickly gleaning insects from the air and from stems and flowers. But when you DO see one, it's all worth it. Brilliant reds, yellows and intense blues are the norm in the tropics.
Anyway- I was hot, had drunk all my water, worn too many clothes, was tired and lagging. I was to the point of being silly. The group was well ahead of us, but the trail was well-marked. One of the major, major rules of birding in a group is to keep quiet. Keep quiet and don't wave your arms around. Scares off the birds. I knew the rules. Acting stupid you should just know not to do - no matter if you're in a hot rain forest.
As my husband and I pulled up to the rear of our group, I could hear Olga saying that she had spotted a Scarlet-Thighed Dacnis in the dense cover ahead of us. Everyone was very focused on finding this beautiful bird. However, the name seemed incredibly funny to me, so I leaned over to the elderly woman next to me and asked "Are you sure it isn't a Scarlet-Ankled Dacnis?" Yikes- the look I got: cool, head to toe and back up, and then, "No, dear, it's a Scarlet-Thighed Dacnis." With this, she looked like she smelled something bad and turned away. My husband was acting like he didn't know me, edging ever-so-slightly away.
So. I had picked one of the serious listers to share my hilarious observation with. I knew the correct name of the bird, as I was quite looking forward to seeing it. This particular dacnis is songbird size, and is a combination of inky black and dense, rich turquoise, except for the feathering on the tibia, which is the area between body and what you might call the 'knee'. These feathers are fluffy and lipstick red. Amazingly beautiful. What the lady dacnises must think!
I did get a good, long look at the Dacnis and made a special effort to be super-serious for the rest of the morning. That's the only Scarlet-Thighed Dacnis I've ever seen, but I'll never forget him. He was above us on a branch, peering down, the sun glinting on his turquoise back, showing off those red feathers.
People ask me why I bird. Why ever not?
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