Today, the rain came down so hard that the creek turned to a raging river, forcing logs loose and pulling branches off trees that hung above water. Although it’s the rainy season in Panama, today's weather was fierce enough to break dams in El Valle de Antón, and pull apart asphalt on the roads.

I am sitting at dinner in the open dining area of the Canopy Lodge with eight birders.  We were strangers this morning, but already we share wine and stories. 

A man enters the dining area wearing camo fatigues, wading boots, a lantern and a snake stick.  I had arranged Mario to guide me up the creeks and streams of El Valle before I came to Panama.  Ever since high school, I have been haunted by the story of the world's vanishing frogs.   

I am thankful that Jose is joining us.  He is the hard-working birding guide at the lodge, and he has offered to join us on his own time.  Nobody has ever done something like this at the lodge, he explains. 

From the van, I stare out into the darkness while Mario and Jose banter in Spanish.  I try to follow their conversation, wondering what people in El Valle talk about.  But every once in a while, I hear Bufo marinus or Euphonia  - their talking about frogs and birds.

Next

12345678910111213