Critters

I remember learning that there are more poisonous and otherwise lethal critters in Australia than anyplace else on the planet. I remember being taught, while on a 10-day camping trip across the Outback, that if you see a perentie lizard running towards you, you should drop to the ground and make yourself as flat as possible. Because when a perentie lizard gets scared, it wants to climb up something, anything, to safety. There are almost no trees in the outback. Perenties have razor sharp claws. You don’t want to accidentally be mistaken for a tree.

There are 500,000 species in Costa Rica. Three-hundred thousand of those are insects. There are so many things happening, everywhere, every second. It’s like being in one of those paintings or prints or whatever they were. The ones you had to stare at and get your eyes to un-focus before you could see what it was, hidden in all the dots.

Lots of these critters are familiar and living their lives out in the open. The world’s sweetest brindle pit bull lives on the mango farm. We spent three weeks here before learning his name is Yogi, which suits him to a tee. Before that, we called him Perro Apestoso aka Stinky Dog. He is nothing but love, this animal, but wow, his stench follows him around like a cloud, just like PigPen from Charlie Brown.

And then there’s The Fucking Cat that also lives here. I swear, I am more afraid of the damn cat than anything else I’ve run into. Because she’ll come rubbing up on my legs, wanting her head scratched and whether I comply with her desire to be pet or not, she may or may not bite me. And thinks nothing of trying to climb up on my chest to eat the crumbs out of my mouth if she wants what I’m having. This kitty doesn’t give a fuck.

We were shopping in Santa Cruz last week. Santa Cruz is a decent sized town; twenty-five thousand people live there. The town square is almost in the exact dead center, block upon block of houses and businesses in every direction. In other words, the jungle is some distance away. We were walking through the square when we see a 4-foot-long orange lizard walking towards a tree. It was huge. And orange. And completely disappeared in seconds into the tree.

Where it pushed another huge monster of a lizard out of the tree. These godzillas are living in the town square! Waging battles across the walkway from where the little kids are playing on the jungle gym. If this is going on over our heads in the middle of this busy little town, imagine what’s happening over our heads in the trees that are everywhere on the mango farm.

Plenty of lizards at the Jardin de los Mangos. The one that likes to take the sun on the roof of the pool filter house must scramble from the plumeria tree to the peak of the corrugated tin roof. Its long claws make this a treacherous activity, and its ascent is an uncoordinated mess. Occasionally, it doesn’t stick the landing and slides off the roof, past the tree and into the pool. This has happened twice already since we’ve been here. I have learned that lizards are excellent swimmers.

The family of monkeys is more fun than, well, a barrel of monkeys. We can spend hours watching them when they show up. Wilmer, the caretaker who also lives on the property here, tells us there are 18 in the group. We found out last week that Wilmer has worked/lived here for 30 years. I believe Wilmer’s count is accurate. He also tells us there are 3 adult males in the group which is unusual. The fellas are easy to pick out when they travel past overhead – the parts that identify their maleness are stark white against their brown and black fur.

I love watching the senior male when he’s feeling chatty. It just looks like he’s having a blast, singing his crazy songs.

Sean has a whole thing going with a juvenile motmot that spends time in the trees next to our cabina. I won’t attempt to explain it; it’s not my story to tell.

I couldn’t finish the laundry the other night because a giant brown toad had posted up right next to the dryer and I was just not willing to disturb it.

On the pathway from our cabina to the car, we have noticed a tiny 3-inch-long praying mantis that looks a whole lot like a twig. Now that we’ve noticed it, we’ve seen it every time we have walked to the car. It’s bizarre, realizing something so tiny and so clearly an insect is turning its head to watch you. Like suddenly it’s become an alien life form.

Our rental car has a backup camera. I’ve never had a backup camera before. Turns out to be an incredibly handy feature here.