Bugs and Birds

One of the many things that Pecos and I have in common is that we are both terrified of spiders. Bugs, too, are not favored. Back in Oregon, it was rather hilarious to watch Pecos jump into a frenzy at the sight of a bug in his house. I would watch as he panicked while trying to figure out how to get rid of it. Pecos is also a pacifist. Much as he despises having insects in his house, he also respects them and would try each time to get them outside, alive.

Here in Costa Rica, he is a changed man. For the first few days in our rental house he courageously killed large spiders and chased a few flying cockroaches that thought this place still belonged to them. The house had been empty for nearly a year. Huge moths attack our porch light in the evenings. Wasps guard the porch in the day time. Ants file up and down the exterior walls. After just a few days of cleaning and maintaining bare floors, very few insects venture in. Like most of our neighbors, we have our front and back doors open during the day. Pecos is ever vigilant, keeping the broom handy for any curious beetles or other creepy-crawlies. I am grateful. Our bed is away from the wall. Because we have no dressers, we keep our clothes in tightly zipped suitcases. We shake out our shoes before putting them on. Foods are kept in plastic containers. Plastic bins hold assorted household items. Not one cup or dish is allowed to stay dirty in the sink. Not one crumb hits this floor. We can scan each entire room in a glance to assure that no monster-size insect is waiting for us. I like this bare-bones living. It is comforting, offering a homey calm far different than the clutter of antiques that make up the inn’s ambiance in Oregon.

Because Costa Rica is so close to the equator, daylight extends from approximately 5:15 a.m. until 6:30 p.m., year round. We wake before daylight, called to the day by the howler monkeys in the distance who call out in baritone cries to each other in the jungle trees above the Pacific. Their cries announce the dawn and the dusk. A cacophony of birdsong starts softly and then rises to a surprisingly high crescendo as the day breaks.

On our first morning here, I ran outside as the sun was coming up. Several hump-backed, long-horned cattle chomped at grass just over the thin strand of barbed wire that separates our little yard from their large pasture. Surrounding them, on the ground and perched on their backs, were a dozen white egrets! The birds flew up in a great flock, wings flapping loudly, to land on a nearby tree where they could keep an eye on me. Just then, a pterodactyl-sized black bird with long tail feathers, wide wingspan and crested jewel-baubles on top of its head swooped down toward the egrets’ tree and chased them away to the circular patch of jungle above our driveway. Soon the egrets returned and the scene was repeated twice more for my benefit. Finally the cattle egrets settled in a distant tree, bright white against the dark green mountainside, and the large bird moved on.

A loud but pleasant screeching soon came from the trees down the road – animal? bird? – and was answered with an identical call from the jungle patch. They trilled to each other for at least 10 minutes and then suddenly their calls stopped and a toucan flew from the tree to meet the other, then together the two brilliantly-beaked birds flew low, right over my head. Seeing a toucan in the wild is thrilling! 