Most people cruise by the small sign for Carara National Park, in a rush to drive from San José to the Costa Rican coast. But I know better, having been told by a local to not only make a mandatory stop at this sliver of rainforest, but to get here when the gate opens at 7 a.m. Three minutes later, I hear loud squawking overhead and look up at an extended branch of a white cedar tree. Above me is a pair of scarlet macaws in their impressive pageantry of red, blue and yellow dress. The male and female are perched side by side, a symbol of the macaw’s life-long monogamy. They’re all over each other, kissing and grooming their feathers, when I realize there’s a little red head peeking out of a hole behind them. It’s Junior — and above him, another head pops out of another hole, a sibling.

I stare at the family of four for a good chunk of time before I have my fill and decide to take an early-morning walk among the cashew trees and streams. When I return to the tree an hour later, drenched in sweat from the humidity, I find one of the macaws still hidden under a large leaf. A naturalist leading a group of visitors is about to walk right past the gem when I point out the macaw. Surprised, the guide asks if I am a bird-watcher. “Yes,” I say. “Yes, I am.”

Home in suburban Boston, I keep a pair of binoculars handy near my desk. I never thought of myself as a bird-watcher, just someone with a couple of bird feeders in the backyard, hoping to spot that fleeting yellow warbler in the spring and the beady-eyed red-tailed hawk in late fall. I can certainly understand the allure of finding new birds in the wild, especially if they’re as colorful as the scarlet macaw or as long-billed as the toucan, yet I’m not quite ready to start compiling a list.

Thankfully, Costa Rica doesn’t discriminate based on expertise. A dolt like me can have just as much fun bird-watching in this tropical clime as the most avid lister. Here, in a country the size of West Virginia, you find more than 850 species of birds. (Take the entire United States and combine it with Canada, and you won’t come up with that many species.) This bird population stems from a wealth of diverse terrain sandwiched into a sliver of Central America. Within a relatively short driving distance, you can be atop 4,600-foot peaks slicing through the hazy, cool cloud forest or down at sea level on the Pacific Coast immersed in the hot, sticky rainforest.

The next day, I hike in an even more remote and primordial forest on the outskirts of Monteverde’s legendary Cloud Forest. Sendero Tranquillo is a private, 210-acre property owned by the Lowther family, who also happen to be proprietors of nearby El Sapo Dorado, one of Costa Rica’s first ecolodges. Sticking to the tenets of sustainable tourism, they allow a maximum of 20 people to enter their spectacular landscape each day, so tourists do not overrun it.

They also employ an impassioned naturalist named Maurizio Ramirez, who has the uncanny knack of setting up his telescope on a tripod almost instantaneously if he hears or sees a bird. Within moments of arriving, I have a close-up look at a striped-tail hummingbird, one of the 53 varieties of hummingbirds in the country; the brilliant-green emerald toucanet; and the large, turkey-like black guan, whose meat is very tasty, says Maurizio.

Long before there was a supermercado in town, Maurizio’s family had to hunt for its food. His dad was one of the first eight settlers of Monteverde, a farming community with short, steep, verdant ridges and bowls not unlike the pasture found in the Scottish Highlands. High up in the mountains with views of the Pacific, the weather here is surprisingly cool for a Central American locale, especially when you’re socked into the misty clouds of a cloud forest. This perpetual dampness creates the slick layer of moss that covers the branches and trunks of trees. Add the thick vines that drop down from towering ficus trees like dreadlocks dangling from the head of Bob Marley, clay-covered trails laden with fallen passion fruit, and the large leaves of the banana ferns, and you have a fecund terrain out of some fable, like stepping into the backdrop of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.

A former researcher at the Tropical Science Center in town, Maurizio loves being a guide in this setting. He hands me cilantro and cinnamon to smell, explains what part of the palm tree to cut to find the meaty heart of palm, sticks a flashlight into a hole to see an orange and brown tarantula, has me swing from one of the vines à la Tarzan, and calls out in a throaty “kyow, kyow” to lure the favorite bird of the cloud forest: the resplendent quetzal. It’s not the size of the quetzal that gets birders all dreamy-eyed but the plumage, an iridescent green with a Matisse-red belly, trailing a billowing two-foot-long tail feather.

I am here too early in the season to find the quetzal (the best time is from February to May), but Maurizio comes up with another tantalizing treat. “This is impressive,” he says as he sets up the telescope quickly. I peer in and my jaw instantly drops as I make out the bushy white eyebrows and wide eyes of a crested owl staring right back at me. “Wow!” I blurt out as Maurizio chimes in with “Beautiful, just beautiful.”

My final stop on this bird-watching tour of Costa Rica is La Selva Biological Station, a forest reserve nestled on the border of Braulio Carrillo National Park. Professors and their students come to La Selva’s protected environs to study ecology and evolutionary biology. Budding ornithologists in the know visit La Selva to go on naturalist-led strolls where, on a good day, one can find more than a quarter of the 400 birds that have been recorded here.

My guide, Octavio “Tavo” Ruiz, points to a big ball of brown fur asleep on a high branch — the great potoo. Far more exhilarating is the large yellow beak of the toucan we spot jutting out from the trunk of a trumpet tree. But Tavo brushes it aside, stating, “The toucan is a common sighting in La Selva.” I am about to tell the jaded birder that the crow is a common sighting where I’m from, but Tavo hears the high-pitched call of the montezuma orependola, and we are in hot pursuit.

Part of the appeal of birding is simply taking a scenic walk in quietude listening for the sounds of wildlife. Tavo leads me on trails coated with fallen leaves, bromeliads and orchids into an old-growth forest lush with large ferns and rope-like vines that fall from the tall surá trees. On my own, I’d stroll along and see nothing but ripe jungle foliage. It is Tavo’s trained eye that finds the birds and their nesting spots, often high atop the forest canopy.

“Come here. Fast!” says Tavo as he scurries deep into a forest of ferns, vines and tree trunks as wide as redwoods. He stops suddenly, points to a branch and passes the binoculars. I adjust the focus and locate the chubby bird, nothing more than a gray pigeon.

“The olive-backed quail dove,” says my delighted guide as he breaks into a toothy smile. “A rare find.”

“Way to go,” I respond, trying to share his enthusiasm by patting him on the back, but it’s hard not to chuckle. I just spent the past two hours staring in awe at three types of toucans, including the large-billed chestnut-mandibled toucan that graces the cover of the Fruit Loops box with his splash of yellow feathers. I’ve watched a mother howler monkey cross a suspension bridge with a baby on her back and spotted the petite blue-jeans frog with its red body and blue legs. And what creature gives Tavo goose bumps? A dull-colored dove that I would notice only after it smashed into my office window.

At least now I can define myself as a bird-watcher who prefers color to rarity. Costa Rica fits the bill, so to speak.

Info to Go

Carara National Park is located 10 miles north of Jaco. Admission is $8. The spacious cabins of El Sapo Dorado ($103 per night) are nestled into the hillside of Monteverde. Ask at the front desk for the tour of Sendero Tranquillo, which costs $22. La Selva Biological Station is located two hours northeast of San José; a dorm-style room, all meals and a morning walk cost $98. If you prefer not to stay here, you can still go for the guided walk ($42). The Birds of Costa Rica by Richard Garrigues and Robert Dean has illustrations of every bird in the country and is an invaluable guide.

Weblinks

Carara National Park

Costa Rica Tourism Board

El Sapo Dorado Hotel

La Selva Biological Station