It takes two
The Royal family of the Cloud Forest
I begin my day as usual, running late. In a whopping 25 minutes I have to get out of bed, get dressed, and pack lunch. I rely on the generosity of one of my roommates, Kenlie, and put her on sandwich duty while I shower. The field trip to the Monteverde Reserve is our best chance at seeing the elusive Quetzal. This bird tops the A-list of Costa Rica’s celebrities. It is covered in iridescent green feathers and its red chest was made to match the red carpet. The male’s lengthy tale evokes the image of a tail-coat Armani tuxedo. The female bears a shorter tail that has a more modest but equally classy appearance. To prove their celebrity status, the female Quetzal sports a tamed short cut while the male Quetzal sports a trendy green mohawk signifying their nonconformity to ecological culture.
Unlike most other birds and college students this ave chooses to partake in monogamous relationships. The Quetzal lives a great part of its life in isolation but sacrifices this lifestyle for the good of their child. The male and the female help raise the rarely spotted offspring until the nestling is ready to fly. Occasionally the father even sticks with the offspring for additional time until they reach the Caribbean. More intriguing, however, is their 24-hour surveillance over their child. Only one parent leaves to get food while the other stays to guard the nest. Somehow the pair maintains communication despite the distance.
With 3 minutes to spare, I make sure I have everything I need for the experience. I walk up to the van, backpack full of everything but the kitchen sink, and I am greeted with two peanut butter sandwiches. We begin our bumpy ride to the reserve, immediately meeting the rain we planned to avoid at 8 in the morning. During the ride Spenser, the English professor, gives a brief rundown of the history of the land, referencing the Quakers of Monteverde. Upon arrival, we wait for our tickets and look at the gift shop. Here we see an abundance of Quetzal memorabilia. Some new friends and I puzzle over the obsession with the green bird, but it isn’t until much later that I understand.
I leave the gift shop and seek familiar faces. Talking among some of the students is Ricardo Guindon, a familiar name. His father, Wolf Guidon, was mentioned during the car ride as the founder of the Quaker community in Monteverde. The community originally used the land for their own benefit. However, Wolf was receptive to the needs of the local community and environment so he founded the Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve. His lifestyle as a conservationist has turned into a large scale program that grows with every rainy season.
The group divides into 5 smaller groups and we are assigned tour guides. I internally sigh when I realize Aurora, the more intimidating Spanish teacher, is in our group. She’s a sweet lady but now it’s confirmed that the tour will be given only in español so now I really need to concentrate. Our tour guide introduces herself, rattling off her native language at what seemed the speed of lightning. All I got from the first sentence was “Hi I’m Marcella!” I assumed she would describe herself or the tour, but I got nothing out of her rambling Spanish. Within the same moment, I hear Aurora say más despacio and Marcella begins to slow down.
We let one group start before we begin the longer than expected journey. As everyone’s shoes slosh through the mud, I think to myself how pleased I was to find cheap waterproof hiking shoes the day before we flew to Costa Rica. Marcella spouts off 20 facts every minute about the plants and animals we see and occasionally throws in a historical component. After walking for 1 hour and failing to appropriately ration my 1 ounce of water, we stop at a waterfall. At the first glance of a “No Swimming” sign, Marcella gives the only tragic anecdote of the morning. She explains how a landslide and a few fatalities led to the formation of this rule.
Despite craving more details to the tragic backstory, I change the subject to something less dismal and ask Marcella about her personal life. She immediately mentions her 3 boys ages 5, 11, and 16. She explains that she’s from an area near San Jose still close enough that she could smell the smog. Marcella moved to Monteverde for work when she was about 18 years old and has since fallen in love with her job.
While Marcella tells us about herself, a couple appears with a school-aged daughter. Interrupting the ambient noise, the man asks where we are from. After a few casual exchanges, he explains that his family is not on vacation but instead trying to see the world. Starting from their home in Canada, they’ve already traveled through Asia and are currently travelling through Central America. Their journey will last for 6 months (February-July). So far, seeing people’s schedule not be dictated by education or work is the biggest culture shock.
In the next 35 minutes, we’re supposed to meet with the rest of the students. Marcella stops to explain the significance of the “Tarzan Vines.” I am instantly reminded of the legendary man raised by apes and the amazing soundtrack from that film. We stand in what looks like his playground. The vines occupy every cubic meter in sight. The entire forest is a network of even smaller forests. Really, each tree is a forest on its own. All the life that’s supported by one tree can be part of an immense network of communication. The network is so deeply intertwined that the trees can use these vines to support each other. However, if one of them falls, it is likely that an entire section also falls. Marcella cites this as her favorite lesson she’s learned from nature even though she learns something new every day. Lessons like this are what made her fall in love with her work. Now, my favorite childhood movie has been tainted because it completely lacks the obvious message of unity that is in nature.
We have 8 minutes left. Everyone is talking less in an attempt to save energy and water. Marcella stops us in an area with old wooden railing. We wait. Marcella describes the history of the Quetzal to Costa Rica. This vibrant bird was considered sacred to the indigenous people. Traditionally, they would harvest the feathers of the Quetzal and release it back into the wild. This bird held so much importance that anyone guilty of killing the bird would pay the price with their life. Aurora tries to start wrapping up. Three other tourist groups are in the same area. All of them have their cameras and binoculars at ease. We now have 3 minutes left. Again, Aurora is expressing that we need to leave. For some reason, everyone is whispering. I figure it’s probably so they don’t scare off whatever they’re trying to see.
Suddenly, a male Quetzal appears in the trees only a few yards away. There is no talking, only camera shutters and the sound of the forest. About 30 feet away from the female an incredibly elusive baby Quetzal is perched in the opening of a tree. The offspring does not look anything like the parents. Its feathers are thin, dull, and, brown. The first thing that comes to mind is the story of the Ugly Duckling. Despite the aesthetically challenged appearance of the younger individual, the king, queen, and heir gaze over their kingdom.
