In Costa Rica, the dark clouds of the wet season have descended upon us. Every afternoon, around one or two, they gather and swoop in to unleash their million count buckets and if the winds happened to bring in a bit of extra moisture from the Caribbean, the sky loaders work double, triple time to keep the rains a coming.
It’s only May, the rain bringers are just getting started; barely kicking the gears to get that sky river rolling. Some afternoons, the rains deluge and flood streets, even create local tornadoes. We saw one such heavy energy system the other day, happily, from a safe and dry distance. It was a massive lead block, a thing of dense gray water seemingly turned solid and alien that grossly interrupted the usual bucolic scenery of towns, scattered palm trees, and green quilted hills. In the news later that day, we watched footage from the center of that aquatic creature, an ocean in action that ripped off roofing and forced trees to bend the knee. From our perspective, it was a lead void that obscured the skies over the town of Grecia and the southwest flank of Poas Volcano. From the inside, I figured I had learned what a fish sees when it looks through the water of its tank.
Fortunately, so far, that seemed to be the worst of the early wet season weather. No doubt, as the season moves forward, we’ll see more of the sky becoming oceanic, especially with a super el Nino forming. What will it bring? Probably nothing good, severity on top of extreme is never a boon, at least not unless you are a mountain hoping to shed tonnages of soil and trees. Not unless you are a stream dreaming of becoming a rushing, unstoppable river.
In the meantime, although we have seen a few afternoons of rain steady from the afternoon on well into the night, there have also been sunny mornings, fresh foliaged trees graced with singing vireos (a la Yellow-Green), Clay-colored Thrushes bring beakfulls of food to hidden young, curious, loudly calling Brown Jays, heavy set Red-billed Pigeons power flapping through the humid air, and other neighborhood urban birds.

Those would be species like Blue-gray Tanagers, an occasional Blue Grosbeak warble-singing with hope at the edge of determined second growth, a motmot hooting from the shade, and others.
Here at the tail end of migration, as the warblers in NYC sing proud to announce their festive northern arrival, we still have some migrants. These are the classic “late ones”, the birds hesitant to leave their Amazonian haunts. Yesterday morning, around 5:40 a.m., I saw some of those later migrants; a flock of Eastern Kingbirds winging it north and briefly stopping to feed from a fruiting fig, pewees air bouncing from perches, and a stealthy Willow/Alder Flycatcher keeping to low vegetation at the edge of a small, urban stream.
My greatest hope is seeing a migrating cuckoo, the more likely one being a Yellow-billed. But they are tricky here in Costa Rica, with those long, svelte wings, most probably zip right over the entire country in one night. The ones that stop hide all too well and they don’t sing but I know they are here, hopefully I’ll get lucky before they are gone. I’ve been listening for them at night too but haven’t heard any. In fact, although I have heard various other species call from night skies above the Central Valley, I have yet to hear the guttural calls of migrating cuckoos.
I might not be seeing cuckoos but I’m grateful to see an abundance of swifts. It’s like this every wet season. After clear and breezy dry season skies nearly bereft of swifts, all of a sudden, we’ve got the air birds dotting the cloudy skies, calling from high above, and even zipping low over local roofs. They’ve come back to town and are still ever difficult to see well but at least they are here.
Where were they in the dry season? In all likelihood, the swifts were out foraging over rainforests or, maybe just too high overhead to see. In the dry season, birding eyes can always find the low flying Chaeturas (the good old “cigars with wings”) and the falconish, big White-collared Swifts but, to see the less common swifts, you usually need to bird more humid regions.
Not so right now and, amazingly, the uncommon swifts will forage right over busy streets and congested roads. That’s how it was this afternoon. While waiting in line for a late afternoon traffic light to change, dozens of scythe-winged, dark birds zipped over houses and busy streets. If anyone person bothered to look up and notice them, they could easily be envious. While we sat nearly trapped in vehicles waiting to move a few feet, the aerialists moved unhindered and fast, flying where they pleased and far, as if the town wasn’t there, as if to show off their natural freedom.
Without binoculars, I couldn’t say for sure which species were flying overhead but suspect they were mostly Chestnut-collared Swifts along with a few other species. When I got back home, birds were still flying over houses as well as high in the sky. Thanks to magnified views, I espied several White-collared Swifts along with a handful of Black Swifts, several Chestnut-collareds and, the stars of the wet season, Spot-fronted Swifts.
A few swift photos from some years ago…



There may have been White-chinned as well but I couldn’t see enough details to say for sure, nor did they reveal their identity with vocalizations. Happily, the Spot-fronteds did, mostly as they chased each other on air-chopping, bat-like wings. I suspect it’s some form of courtship, supposing they know that now is the time to nest, now is the time of insect abundance, at least on the Pacific side of the mountains.
We’ve been witness to that abundance ourselves, noticed clouds of gnats, millions of tiny bugs swarming over the streets. Swift and flycatcher food, could that also be why the flycatchers migrate late? More en-route sustenance?
The low pressure and clouds drive the air plankton down and the swifts follow suit. And you can actually see them, note pale scaling on the belly and eventually catch the fine details on their heads and, even so, their fast ways ensure that they aren’t the easiest of birds to watch. But now is the time to try and focus in on swifts in Costa Rica, at least in the Central Valley, because now is when the swifts are back in town.
To learn about swift identification in Costa Rica, check out the freshly updated Costa Rica Birds- field guide app, my ebook, “How to See, Find, and Identify Birds in Costa Rica” and this excellent article written by my friend and Ornis birding guide, Dani Lopez-Velasco, “Neotropical swifts: some noteworthy Peruvian records—and additional aerial enigmas“.


























