In the stream bed, a universe of life opens up. Thousands of leaf-cutter ants progress down vines. The leaves they carry are like miniature sails in the jungle. Above me, for just a moment, a tiny black bird with a blue crown pauses on a branch. Then, white-faced capuchin monkeys in the distance. With my binoculars, I scope along the streambed, and glimpse the eyes of a frog – it's a non-poisonous poison dart frog in shades of beige and gold.
These are all animals I have seen before, but a thrill overcomes me when a small, plainish bird lands twenty feet away. Its sound is a strange jungle sound, like a marching band made of high-pitched flutes. I know from those inconspicuous birds in Portland's Forest Park – small wings, down-curved beak, a certain attitude in the way it flits about – this is a wren. Then I stun myself when I mutter: white-breasted wood wren.
This need for so many of us to categorize, understand and organize the natural world is not an accident. We were made that way. Humans became humans because we evolved as generalists. We are smart because we evolved to differentiate between different types of species: Edible, non-edible, poisonous, beneficial. We evolved to forage and hunt a wide range of organisms.
Old Highways of Peten From Belize into the jungles of Northern Guatemala, we travel with redheaded triplets who insist our theories about the Mayan past are all wrong.
The Howling Coast From the isolated Pacific Coast of Nicaragua to its bustling center.
Granada Libre Nicaragua from its tourism mecca, and the choices it faces as it enters a brave new world.
Jungle in the Sky A walk in the Nicaraguan volcanic cloud forest of Mombacho with an odd cast of characters.
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