Moondog.

I am fairly certain last night was the best night of my life. And if not the best, certainly in the top five.

Let me explain. 

This is a picture that my friend Amber Datta snapped when we went looking for the owls that were calling RIGHT BEHIND THE FIELD STATION. This picture makes it look far away, but we were literally two feet from the little guy. He was pretty angry. 

       And that was the second owl of the night. I got swooped, straight up wingtip grazing the top of my head, in a field in front of one of the houses down the road from the station. I ran to Johel's house and roused him to come see. We are currently in the hypothesized breeding season for this species, and with their nesting habits largely undescribed, any study that found nests would be more than potentially publishable. 

For those who know me well--okay, or at all--you know exactly how my chest burst open the first time I heard that owl respond to my ipod speaker calls. I am studying owls in the tropics. For the next month. 

 And don't even get me started on the other gorgeous things I saw yesterday. This Hercules beetle came to visit my friend Kyra's boot before we headed down to Spanish--

He stuck around for a while, too. And I saw four new bird species, including a Wilson's warbler right outside the station window. 

 But the most breathtaking things were in the forest. Yes: the ipod speakers are labeled the "Magical Owl Calling Machine," courtesy of a most excellent peer. 

       I don't know how I haven't spent that much time around the station at night before, but the trails and streams and trees are a completely different world under the cover of night. Though last night was hardly dark: the near-full moon had an insanely clear ring around it, and it lit up the forest like the light of day. Moonflecks in the understory illuminated bat wings and insects as they passed close to my head carrying fruits; the shuffle of rodents that remain dormant in the day were hardly audible over the frogs and crickets. There was a storm beyond Lake Arenal in the distance with flashes akin to heat lightning and clouds looking like cities under the moon. 

The owls...

And a cat. 

A spotted, slinking feline across my path for a half a second in the red of my headlamp. 

I died. 

Ask me about it because I can't really tell you much more than that here. 

I don't know how I get this lucky. Maybe I should always have eight penned-in-boredom-during-Spanish swallows on my ankles, feet and wrists. 

Maybe I should always go hiking in my green and teal elephant pajama shorts. 

A month of owl hunting. 

Is this real life?

Cheers.