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Fortuitous Encounters

Fortuitous Encounters

Several times I’ve started these little essays with “I was walking from the house to the Dining Hall to have breakfast when…” And it is true, these short walks, including from the house to the office or lab, or a short hike down a trail usually brings me into contact with something unique, unusual, perhaps even common in the big scale of things, but extraordinary nonetheless. So you can only imagine having a couple of hundred people “walking from here to there” every day encountering the extraordinary and you will understand why this is such a remarkable place to live and work. Consistently, conversations at breakfast revolve around someone showing off a picture of a tamandua (a tropical anteater) carrying a baby on its back, its orange/cream-colored fur broken by a “vest” of darker pelage; or the image of a blue-glowing scorpion under a UV light, eerie and ghostly, encountered during a night hike to a high spot next to a wetland; or the tale of rare birds walking in front of someone on a trial or near a stream, or the amazing viper resting by the side of a trail, or the ocelot hunting frogs in the swamp and on and on.

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The Wet, Sticky Forest

The Wet, Sticky Forest

It is May, one of the hottest months at La Selva. It is also the beginning of the “rainy season” although calling this a “season” is a bit misleading. Perhaps we can call it the intensification of the rains, or the period when rains are more frequent and intense....

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The Jeweled Forest

The Jeweled Forest

“Knock-knock!” Don’t say “Who’s there?” It is not a knock-knock joke. Someone knocks at my office door with regularity these days. I open and, invariably, it is one of my staff, or a researcher, or a graduate student, saying “Carlos, do you want to see something cool?...

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Some Days are Simply Special

Some Days are Simply Special

Some days are a bit more exciting than others. Take today, for example. It’s a regular morning, with the howler monkeys calling on the forest behind the house, their calls reverberating through the trees, echoed by the calls of a separate troop a few hundred meters away. We woke up to the usual mix of bird songs, oropendolas gurgling softy over their recently completed long-hanging basket nests; a band of parakeets chatter while feeding on the top of a tree; three or four large parrots, quietly forage. Crested guans softly calli each other from the trees. Other small birds sing, chitter, warble. It’s 6 a.m. and all’s well…

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