The Resplendent Quetzal is the bird people ask about before they ask about anything else — emerald above, crimson beneath, with tail streamers that trail far behind it. It appears on no itinerary I write. The wild aguacatillo trees fruit when they fruit, the birds move to where the fruit is, and a photographer who has flown a long way has no standing in that negotiation.
What I can plan for is being in the right valley, with people who know it, at the hour that matters. This is how that went.
Day one: an afternoon with the female
We went out after lunch on the first day, to a known nesting site. The lodge manager came with us — he had been watching the tree, and that kind of specific, unglamorous local knowledge is worth more than any plan I can make from home.
We set up at a respectful distance and waited. Before long, movement caught our eye: the female appeared. We spent hours watching her make trips in and out of the nest from afar, which was an incredible privilege in itself.
Her male counterpart was nowhere to be found. As the afternoon wore on and the daylight began to fade, we accepted that today wasn't the day to see the famous flowing tail.
Day two: before light
We had one morning left before heading back to San José. The manager offered to take us to another feeding spot he knew of. We set our alarms for well before sunrise and hit the road together while it was still pitch black.
As we drove through the mountains, the morning light slowly began to break, and it revealed the scene I keep coming back to. We were passing along the edge of a high valley, and looking down, the entire landscape below was buried beneath a thick blanket of clouds.
The second morning
We pulled up to the new site just as the sun began to light up the canopy. We didn't even have to wait.
Perched high in an aguacatillo tree, surrounded by morning light, was the male. His brilliant green feathers and deep crimson chest glowed against the forest backdrop. We watched him feast on the small wild avocados, moving gracefully through the branches.
It was the perfect end to the trip. The easy way to tell it is that we refused to give up and the bird rewarded us — but that isn't what happened.
We found him because someone who watches that forest every day knew where the fruit was, and was willing to get up in the dark to take us there. That is the thing I can actually plan for: not the bird, but the best chance at the bird.