The morning after our trip to Costa Rica’s Curu Wildlife Refuge, our guide, Ernesto, was back to take us out once more. This time late enough for us to grab a quick breakfast, and with his son in tow to act as a shuttle driver, our destinations were Montezuma village, where Ernesto lives, and thence the Montezuma Waterfalls.

Ernesto had gained permission to access a small woodland where a pygmy owl had been sighted, so we stopped there first. After a short walk he located it, gazing down at us. It was, indeed, very small, but obviously no more welcome to the other birds than any other owl, and alarm calls ricocheted around the surrounding trees.

Driving on through the beautiful village of Montezuma, we reached the area where his family lived. Passing a field where his grandmother’s oxen grazed contentedly, we stopped by a small lake. A pair of mallard paddled busily; a ringed kingfisher sat on the tree in front of us; and, on a stump on the opposite bank, an anhinga preened, like a slim, handsome, serpent-necked cormorant.

Our next stop was outside the little local supermarket, not to shop but to see the papaya tree by its front door. Hardly had we stepped out on to the road, than a collared aracari flew from a neighbouring tree and started to tear into one of its giant fruits: a spectacularly coloured, bizarrely marked toucan, even outdoing its cousin the fiery billed aracari that we had seen further south two years before. The differences in microclimate mean that the ranges of the two birds don’t seem to overlap. Elaine’s camera clicked away. Eventually setting off for the falls, we came to an immediate, abrupt halt, this time to see a pair of pale-billed woodpeckers in a tree by the roadside.

Ernesto promised us it was just a short walk downhill by the river to see the waterfalls and then we would rejoin the repositioned car. He tactfully offered us walking sticks if we wished. Of course we rejected this offer. (We still have our pride.) From the upper entrance to the falls, with its tiny car park, small café and desk collecting entry fees, there was no sign of the river nor the falls, just a deep, heavily wooded ravine. We went to the gate and stared down the steeply descending “rural” steps as they disappeared into the abyss. As one, we swallowed our pride, turned and said that we would borrow the walking sticks after all. What a wise decision that turned out to be.

As we set off, Ernesto pointed out a fruit bat hanging under the café’s concrete platform: just one of Costa Rica’s one hundred and fifteen bat species. Occasionally we would pause to look at or listen to

a bird or just cool down. The river came into view far below us. A motmot, different from the one we had seen the day before, sat on a branch beside the path, blue-crowned rather than turquoise-browed, but no less beautiful. Ernesto knew each of the bird’s territories as we descended through the forest, and at one point played a song from his “Merlin App”, enticing a long tailed manakin to respond and eventually to show himself, but only in fleeting appearances amongst the thick green vegetation. Elaine was by far the best at spotting it. As predicted by Ernesto, it was accompanied by its dancing partner. It appears that mature male manakins dance to attract a female, often assisted by a younger male; they dance together. Eventually the principal male did pause long enough on a small branch above the path for both Elaine and me to see it properly, with its two long tail feathers, iridescent blue back, and its crimson crown; exquisite, but impossible to photograph.

We finally reached the river tumbling through rocks to the first and smallest of the three waterfalls. Below this waterfall was a large, deep pool, which spilt over its far edge to form the second, higher, waterfall, out of sight below. This, in turn, fed the third, highest, fall. We could see people admiring that fall far below us.

We sat for a while before making a hot climb up a steep stepped path to where the car had now been moved. So, it wasn’t quite true that no uphill climbs were involved. That one climb was enough for us.

Back at the car, we all set off to a restaurant run by Ernesto’s wife, to enjoy a late lunch of mahi mahi, large shrimp and octopus, whilst gazing down over a small sandy cove on the Pacific Ocean. Not a bad day ….