familiar stomping grounds

Our first visit to Oro Verde, a small family-owned forest reserve near Uvita, had been a revelation. There were so many exotic, colorful birds flitting around that D hadn’t quite known where to point his camera first. We had been in the country for merely two months at that point, and nearly every bird that crossed D’s viewfinder was new to us. A year later, the return to Oro Verde felt like a bit of a homecoming: in the intervening months, Costa Rica’s birds had become familiar — and the family that graciously showed off the natural bounty of their land was too.

“The bird I’m calling now is a streak-chested antpitta,” our young guide told us. “It’s a rare bird; antpittas are difficult to find, but this one always comes when we call — ever since my sister and I were little girls.” “Susie?” D asked, remembering how her father, who had guided us on our visit to Oro Verde last year had told us a similar story and mentioned that his daughters had nicknamed this male bird Susie. The main difference was that the old birder had whistled, imitating the antpitta’s plaintive call, while his daughter simply used playback to lure the bird toward us.

Whereas that initial visit to Oro Verde had been infused with a sense of discovery, there was not much to write home about on D’s return with our visiting friends last week. That first time, D added nearly two dozen new birds to his life list; the second time around — only two! A similar fate awaited at Hacienda Baru, another birding hotspot near Uvita D had been eager to revisit. He went on a solitary early morning walk there and similarly came away with just two new lifers, neither particularly noteworthy.

Hands down, the best birding of our return visit to Uvita came on a boat tour of the Sierpe River, nearly an hour south of where we were staying. There were no lifers to add to D’s list, but the sightings were spectacular: a snowy egret trying to gulp down a fish before a hungry tiger-heron pounced on him in a failed bid to steal his lunch; a pair of nighthawks — nocturnal birds that are hard to find in broad daylight — lit up by the sun while roosting in a thicket of bamboo; innumerable macaws gobbling fruit in tall trees along the riverbank.

Perhaps the best thing about birding from the boat was that it was far more accessible for our friend. Toward the end of our walk in Oro Verde, D had asked her how many birds she thought we had seen. “I dunno, ten…maybe twelve?” she ventured. D’s checklist would reach 50 different species by the time the visit wrapped up some ten minutes later, but a lot were small, flighty forest species that were difficult to point out to beginner birders. By contrast, the herons, egrets, and other shorebirds we glimpsed from the boat were much easier to see and appreciate — and this too brought joy, for as much as D enjoys exploring and seeking out new species, he also loves nothing more than the opportunity to share his passion for birding with others.

Pictured from top to bottom: green heron; streak-chested antpitta; purple gallinule; lesser nighthawk; snowy egret.