Along a Path in Costa Rica
You never really see the animals you read about. They are always
there, of course, just out of sight or maybe further off the trail,
probably much further than you’re planning to venture. When
you browse brochures or guidebooks to get a lay of the land, you can’t
help but to spend a little extra time admiring those beautiful, full-color
wildlife photos that some professional photographer spent a month
trying to capture with just the right light and at the perfect angle,
but that you know you’ll snap during those first few minutes
on the trail.
My husband and I would like to believe that, being experienced hikers
and backpackers, we had no such illusions when planning a trip to
Costa Rica; yet, we did buy a brand new digital video camera, just
for the rainforest scenery, of course, and packed twelve rolls of
film for our reliable 35mm.
When we would read accounts of those who trekked before us, almost
always there was an incident, and usually more than one, of a wildlife
encounter. Should we get our hopes up? (Truthfully, they were already
somewhere in the stratosphere, but we still had the pretense of being
rational.) Well, we’ll see, but let’s not hold our breath,
we told one other as already we began to turn blue in anticipation.
That shade of azure only deepened when we first arrived at Aguas Zarcas
in San Carlos. The sun was just making its journey from afternoon
to evening, so like the trail addicts that we are, there was no unpacking
– nor changing of shoes. Sure, we glanced down at those little
– and big – toes still sunning themselves from beneath
some strappy Tevas and felt some guilt (like when you were little
and went outside without a coat), but we could just rationalize it
away – while we were walking.
It would just be a quick walk, after all, to stretch our legs. Besides,
this trail was adjacent to the resort property so it was simply a
warm up for the real rainforest tomorrow. We were sure that we wouldn’t
see anything, but it was best to take the video camera anyway. (Yes,
we somehow found time in our haste to find and load a blank tape into
the camera.)
*The lush vegetation which enveloped us on all sides
made us temporarily forget about the fauna and focus only on the flora.
The immensity of buttressed roots laid a foundation for leafy giants
whose branches dripped with mosses and bromeliads, as well as water
now that a pleasant rain shower began its pattering from somewhere
above. Then, either because of the rain, or because we were finally
seeing the proverbial forest for the trees, one of us caught sight
of movement off to the side of our ever-muddying path. On closer inspection,
we found a hole with a few hairy legs as long as my fingers guarding
the entrance.
Tarantula.
“Are you getting this?” I remember asking my husband who
was trying to film, but still keep the camera dry.
Further on, following a small hop across our path, we discovered with
some searching, a toe nail sized litter frog. Then, a little ways
more, winding its brown body along the side of the path was a very
lengthy ground snake. As it moved from one home to another, we moved
closer. Our bravery born from knowledge that this reptile had no venom.
We watched until our latest curiosity pulled the last of its brown
scales into the new burrow.
Feeling that we had seen and conquered for the evening and noticing
the dwindling light, made even dimmer by the quickening rain, we hurried
our pace for trail’s end – glad that it looped back to
the start.
As the path darkened, we began to jump at the sound of splattering
rain and to pull hastily away from the shadows now surrounding us.
Yet, we laughed at our unfounded insecurities and poked fun at ourselves,
trying to relieve the tension. Then, as if to mock our ‘completely
at ease’ charade, we were buzzed by the biggest hummingbird
known to man. Startled but still smiling, we picked up the pace.
And, that’s when more than the rain broke loose!
My husband was the first to spot it, probably because he used to have
a tremendous fear of snakes. Seeing the terciopelo coiled on the side
of the path and seeing me traipse right past without so much as a
blink brought back more than a little of that phobia, I’m sure.
For anyone not familiar with this snake’s Spanish name, maybe
Fer de Lance rings a bell. If not, let’s just suffice it to
say that it is considered the most dangerous snake in Costa Rica because
its venom contains a fast-acting hemotoxin and it can sometimes be
quite aggressive. Luckily, not this time since I walked within a foot
of the small, grey reptile, its yellow – tipped tail reminiscent
of a squiggling worm that not only acted as a lure, but also showed
its young age.
We knew all of this, of course, from our abundance of guidebooks (which
always mentioned appropriate footwear). But, what we both thought
of was a television show about this very same snake within this very
same country. It aired only a week before we left and introduced a
trained herpetologist who had almost lost her leg due to a terciopelo
bite. (And, yes, she was also wearing sandals.)
I didn’t even have to ask this time. I could see that my husband
was already videotaping our foible, showing the snake then panning
to our exposed toes and ankles. Not feeling the need to linger –
after all, we now had captured this moment of ‘bad decisions’
for viewing anytime – my husband gave the staring snake more
than a wide berth and joined me on the other side of the trail. This
time he would go first, probably because I had missed our little friend
when I was on point.
But, I didn’t miss the second one!
Coiled just as the first, only a few yards further along, was another
young terciopelo, its yellow bit of tail flashing a warning. We didn’t
even bother to tape, no doubt due to images of a herpetologist’s
puffy, dead leg, blackened by venom. It was time to go.
And go we did, as fast as we could, running back to
the trailhead and caring solely about getting away from the animals
we were sure we would never see.
heidimiller©2005