I arrived in Costa Rica with a very specific agenda: monkeys, coatis, hanging bridges. Nature was not interested in my itinerary.

Instead, I have been completely undone by the birds. There are thiry-six types of hummingbird here — thirty-six! — which I did not know, and which feels frankly excessive in the most wonderful way. They are tiny daredevils, whooshing past your ear, darting and jousting with each other for the best position at a flower. They do not seem to know or care that they are small.

And on the opposite end of the spectrum: the macaws, enormous and unhurried, moving through the canopy like they own it. Which, arguably, they do.

The closer you look, the more there is

I used to think of toucans as black and yellow. Bold. Graphic. A bit like a cartoon. But when you actually stop and look — really look — what you find is something far more intricate: white, yellow, red, brown, all layered into plumage that rewards attention. The bird didn’t change. I did.

I’m a little afraid of what this says about me, but I think I might be a birder now. I arrived with a loose interest in wildlife and I am leaving with more curiosities and a mild bird obsession

The trees help with this. They are tall and generous, offering perch after perch for the high fliers like the Red-Lored Amazons — who move between them with a speed and smoothness that makes it look effortless.

The ground birds deserve a moment

The Greater Curassow and the Crested Guan are a little out of this world — large, deliberate ground birds that move through the undergrowth with an ancient, unbothered energy.

The soundtrack

If the visuals weren’t enough, there is the sound. The Montezuma Oropendola makes its nest — a long, swaying, basket-like thing — in eucalyptus trees, and its call is something between a gurgle and a song, something liquid and strange and deeply satisfying. The dove coos. The clay-colored thrush chatters with what I can only describe as a kind of cheerful, inessential confidence. Together they make the rainforest feel alive in a way no guidebook quite prepares you for.

Often it’s not the big flashy things that bring life and song and color. It’s the unexpected ones. The details. The learning to look more slowly, and being surprised by what was always there.

The monkeys will have to wait. I have 36 hummingbirds to find.