In Quest of the Elusive Quetzal

An exquisite male quetzal, with crimson chest, white tail, and two-foot-long iridescent-green streamers shimmered in the dappled sunlight.

We watched it flit among the trees, bobbing its crested head while gobbling avocado-like fruit.

Surely this had to be "the most beautiful bird in the New World," as my guidebook proclaimed.

Like fireworks, it burst into the sky for a few breathless minutes and was gone.

Ecstasy!

Epiphany.

And relief.

The pressure was off. Now we could relax and explore other wonders of the cloud forest. And there were many:

Brilliant butterflies drifted like confetti among frail stands of bamboo.

We poked among the flora finding mistletoe, colorful fungi, and orchids. Standing under a leaf the size of a Volkswagen, Arturo joked, "Sometimes I feel like Alice in Wonderland in the forest."

Although there was talk of snakes - the deadly eyelash viper and fer-de-lance - and tarantulas, none were seen. And, no, we didn't see a jaguar. Arturo had never seen one in the wild.

Arturo was our teacher, guide, and mother hen, spotting things we surely would have missed, while always alert to potential troubles.

"Don't stand there too long," he warned as I stopped on the trail to take a picture. "Army ants."

OK, I'm outa there.

A troop of white-faced capuchin monkeys entertained us as we departed the cloud forest.

We left smiling, with notebooks thick with recorded observations, and heads held high.

After all:

We're the few.

We're the proud.

We're the quetzal spotters.

The next three days were spent at Tortuguero on the Caribbean coast: a change of pace, scenery, and temperature. Hot, steamy, and muggy. No trudging through the forests here. Our nature tours consisted of motoring in an open boat through the rivers and canals of Tortuguero National Park.

This dense, lowland rain forest is almost impenetrable by foot. Sneaking up on snoozing toothy caimans was safer and easier from the perspective of a boat.

We saw iguanas, the original lounge lizards chilling out in the afternoon sun, and the aptly-named howler monkeys. So loud and obnoxious is their call, you'll be pleading to hear Roseanne Barr sing another chorus of the National Anthem.

Howler monkeys aside, our days here were more restful, but no less rewarding. Without leaving our lodge we spotted a variety of birds, lizards, and heard the calls of rare great green macaws from our window.

Even the river banks held wonders like Jesus Christ lizards. When startled, this little reptile stands on its back legs, and runs, not just walks, across the water.

Then there were the poison-arrow frogs. Not even Miss Piggy would dare make a pass at these tiny red hoppers.

Leaf-cutting ants paraded across our paths carrying shreds of banana leaves to their underground nests.

Each day was filled with wonder. As Arturo said, "Nature is full of surprises."

Our meals were always sparked by banter with Arturo whose knowledge was as endless as our questions.

One man from California summed up the experience as we left. "Nature was everywhere," he said, "walk out the door and there's a sloth in the trees. There's always something to see and hear."

A serious birder back home in California, he figured we had seen 98 species. Just spotting that resplendent quetzal might have been enough for me.

It's 6 in the morning.

The first rays of sun stream through the trees.... Suddenly all slumber is shattered by the piercing shriek of a scarlet macaw.

It's nice to be back in my private, snow-bound, little jungle.

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