Costa Rica Trip, (a Farewell to the Herman Institute of Biological Studies)

Few things in life have been harder for me than this past trip to Costa Rica. Despite all of the amazing experiences, people, friendships, data and birds seen through out the last 14 years in Playa Azul, Costa Rica, at some level it's always going to feel a bit like a failure. I'm smiling now as I write this, and feeling proud of all of the things that establishing the Herman Institute of Biological Studies helped make possible, and now it's gone.

One thing that I have come to realize through the process of letting go has been that the relationships forged between the people, birds, communities, ecosystems and even the data can all carry on without the physical structure tethering them to Playa Azul. Here are some photos of my time there from Jan 11, 2014-January15th

The view of the Institute and grounds as seen from the street with one's back to the Tarcoles River.

The sign that I painted in 2001, really doesn't look all that bad for not having been touched up.

The neighbor's house, and typical of the town.

The view from the front of the Herman Institute, looking out at the Tarcoles River and Gerardo Montero who has gill-netted in the mouth of the river for over 50 years.

Gerardo Montero, father of my friend and Bird Guide Luis Campos, and to Xinia Campos the caretaker of T.H.I.B.S. for the last 11 years. Look at his feet.

Some plants and a wonderful statue that has been with the property through many incarnations...

This is Pipo and his oxen. He is in his 70's and delivered the stones and gravel used in the construction of the Institute. He still fills his cart mostly on his own, I doubt he'd rather be watching "Oprah".


The Scarlet Macaw, once a dwindling population has been on the upswing for more than 10 years with the reduction in nest predation by pet smugglers

Don Javier and his family, the new owners of the Institute property in Playa Azul. Wonderful people

Pelicans around the fishing boats in Tarcoles

You'd Howl too if you were sitting on your nuts! This was one of a troop of 4 Howler Monkeys that came through the yard to say goodbye on my last day in Playa Azul.

A Black-headed Trogon in the town of Tarcoles

SUnsets in Playa Azul are almost always breathtaking, as the sun dips below the tip of the Nicoya Peninsula. This Woodstork made this sunset exceptional!

A Black Ctenosaur , an iguanid that is very common in Costa Rica. Known as "garrobo" locally, it is also relished as a wild food source.


I got to go to Carara on Tuesday the 14th. I birded the River trail in the morning and saw 91 species of bird. It was a wonderful morning punctuated by a flyover of two male Yellow-billed Cotingas!

White-faced Capuchin monkeys are really common in Carara National Park. These guys were raiding a wild banana grove

A Chestnut-backed Antbird shot at 1/6th of a second. I don't like to use a flash to photograph birds for the most part.

The largest click beetle that I have ever seen.

My friend Juan prepares a long line set over 3 kilometers long for Red Snapper

Scarlet Macaws are often in the nearby towns and villages eating beach almonds.

The Sky is falling. Why Birds might rain down on the earth.

Some birds are very high strung, some are less hardy, some birds are very mellow and downright friendly. Bird's dispositions are varied and run the spectrum much like human personalities. I have held and studied thousands of different birds of many, many species and families, including lots of Icterids, (blackbirds) and some Starlings. With this in mind, I find it very unlikely that a noise or disturbance could have caused the demise of the Beebe, AR birds alone. I also think it unlikely that these birds were flying over the town in a nocturnal migration at the time of their fatal fall. While many birds migrate in the night, including blackbirds, and I am not an expert in movements of southeastern Icterids in the winter months, but I would guess that for the most part, long distance, night time migrating is over, and that these large flocks are moving from food source to food source, and roosting in large groups. I may be wrong on that, but I don't think so.

What I think people ought to be talking about more is the weather system moving through the area at the time. Although radar maps show that at the exact time of the incident there was not a strong cell over the exact area, a VERY strong front had just passed through, the same one that had spawned over 20 tornados in a rare weather event in the state of Arkansas earlier that day. Tornados very frequently pick items, and organisms up and deposit them elsewhere. I also think it feasible that extreme pressure changes and other potential weather related factors could have combined to cause any number of scenarios in which a large flock of birds could have met their untimely fates. I would not rule out a combination of noise disturbance and weather, nor would I rule out poisoning and weather combinations, or some freaky government experimentation.

It sure is weird that on the same day thousands of fish died nearby in the Arkansas River, and that cities all over United States are experiencing large numbers of birds, mostly blackbirds, dying in similarly inexplicable ways. There is a lot of speculation on the conspiracy chat rooms and websites about the potential causes and meanings of all of this. The theories range from the end of the world and polar shifts to the government's HAARP project causing atmospheric anomalies which combined to kill these birds.

I'm at a loss, and after seeing first hand in the Gulf what our government and media are capable of, I am not about to rule ANYTHING out. It is a strange phenomenon that's for sure, and I hope that all of the attention these incidents are receiving means that there will be widespread scrutiny of the causes and work done to find the causes, whatever they may be. It shouldn't be that hard to figure out, maybe??

I'm headed out to sea, in fact, writing this blog from the wheelhouse of the F.V. Timberwolf, be back on Friday, hope the world is still here, and that the government hasn't HAARPed every living creature by the time I get back, or that 2012 doesn't come early, or...(enter own doomsday scenario here). I was going to write about personal experiences with certain birds, including Dovekies and Green-tailed Towhees to illustrate the differences in bird demeanor, but that'll have to wait until Friday. Have a great couple of days!!

Going Down

11/27/10

We left the dock at 11:00 AM, with a strong southwest wind agitating the Great Salt Pond and straining the many flags around Point Judith. The wind was so strong, in fact, that the wavelets being created lapped up and over the bulkhead at Rhode Island Engine and sprayed deep into the parking lot. A quick perusal of the nearby Gulls failed to turn up the first year Glaucous Gull that had been hanging around for the past ten days or so, but it might still be there.

We threw the lines, and made our way into the harbor, and as I stood on deck the wind went right through me. Since I hadn't expected to be in Rhode Island this winter I have none of my winter clothing and am ill equipped to say the least for a four day trip deep into the north Atlantic Ocean. I had woken with the beginnings of a cough, but had been in such a hurry to get ready for the trip and say goodbye to family visiting for Thanksgiving I had not time to address this burgeoning potential health issue, yet there I stood in the frigid wind, now surrounded by water, quite noticeably coughing. Little did I know at the time, that in my rush, I had also forgotten a good deal of the warm clothing that I do have.

When looking out at the North Atlantic from shore in the winter, it is a rare thing to see a placid ocean, rarer indeed would be to see the phenomenon last for three days, which is how many days we need to work out at sea. The time of a boat captain in New England in the winter revolves around the four o'clock updates on NOAA's marine forecast which constantly changes. We have seen that we can't rely on NOAA to accurately and competently report on the level of oil in and around the Gulf of Mexico, or in seafood for that matter, but they remain the only source for a decent marine forecast, and our very lives depend on their daily prognoses. It is very common for us to steam out in a gail, and return in a gail with the hopes that we might cram 50 or more hours of work into a less tumultuous window of agreeable weather.

Last Saturday we left at 1100 AM with the calculation that the wind should drop out just in time for us to reach our fishing grounds at midnight, one hundred miles to the south and get some work done in a nicer environment.

We exited the Harbor of Refuge and made our way into the open ocean in a wet and wild ride. Everything on deck had been tied down in preparations, and as we made our turn through the opening in the breakwater we braced ourselves for the inevitable crash and boom as the first waves hit us, and blew up and over the boat. A large group of Common Eiders was up against the wall, right in the maelstrom of the crashing waves on the west side of the rock formation, but they seemed to be unconcerned with their situation, and bobbed and dove with an ease that spoke of a great comfortability being out in the cold Atlantic, even against the wall. The males are really starting to look handsome again as the soft seafoam green takes over the dappled brown basic plumage on their roman heads. Content with one last view of these ducks and a flyby Long-tailed Duck, I retired to the bunk, where the other two deck hands were already sound asleep. Although it was mid-day, sleep came easy, as it usually does on the boat, even when it's rocking and rolling! You've got to get it when you can, and the body quickly becomes accustomed to taking advantage of any time in the bunk.

Within 20 minutes on deck, I had been soaked by an errant wave. All barrels on the port rail were instantly filled, and random gear was thrust toward the center of the boat with the thousands of gallons of seawater that exploded passed us, and filled my boots. I was able to change two and half hours later. At 0200 the next morning I awoke after 2 hours of sleep with the second scariest fever I have ever had, and was unable to work for the first three hours of Monday. When I finally made it out on deck, it was gorgeous. The sea had calmed down and was completely glassy. The other deckhands were working in T-shirts in the end of November! I felt horrible, but my spirits were uplifted by the occasional small groups of Dovekies that the boat happened upon. Dovekies are a really neat bird, and are one of my favorite little guys. So small, yet so hardy, these tiny little "penguins of the north" ply their livings in the harshest of environments, and I'm always amazed by their seeming nonchalant demeanor.

The next couple of days were spent in a fever induced haze, and by the time we had unloaded our catch on Wednesday morning, I would spend 65 of the next 72 hours of my life in bed thinking about the Northern Fulmars and Great Shearwaters that glide so effortlessly passed our boat as we work, and hoping that I'll be ready to go next week, when it's time to go back out on the cold Atlantic.