cabuya
cabuya feels off the beaten path. actually the only road here is little more than a beaten path, so that's not literally true. the town is a handful of ranches, a bar, and a few restaurants strewn across this dusty trail. it is populated mainly by cows and the few ranchers who keep them. an odd place to find yourself, and in the heat of the costa rican sun wearied by bus travel and burdened with a surf board the experience can be positively surreal. the few travelers we encountered appeared as if on cue during our walk in the sun. why are these people here? their contrast with the surrounding nothing amplifies the experience of being with them, their personalities exposed in stark shadow under the noon-sun.
nobody we encountered on the road was here for the rainsong sanctuary, which was the only reason i could conceive for coming to this strip of ranch houses. everyone who volunteers at rainsong stays at the farm or at a hostel down the road. it's a mix of mostly young animal lovers and veterinarians, though for a facility that houses a howler monkey, a kinkaju, an ocelot and many other captured animals there is surprisingly little expertise. this isn't the fault of the volunteers who are often students or simply animal lovers. the professional ignorance at rainsong flows from the sanctuaries matriarch who can be found under her cloud of cigarette smoke and identified by the blue and white mu-mu she wears everyday. she does care for the animals and rainsong has become her life, but she seems to see the animals more like her exotic collection of pets. pets she doesn't know how to care for or even properly feed.
the volunteers were, for the most, tops. really great kids who love animals and some were developing a body of expertise. their hard work really keeps the place vital, and i think they have improved it significantly over the years. i don't know what other place will let me grab a one armed white faced capuchin monkey named tarzan by the tail when it's time for his tree walk to be over. or gives me as a chore feeding bananas to a kinkaju who is sleepy and only wants to grab my hand and hug and nibble it. i can't imagine a place in the states that would hand over a baby howler monkey who bites to kids fresh in the program. as rewarding as it was to work with some of the more exotic animals, my fondest memories are more regular. like the way the birds in the aviary scatter when you walk in. or the way the turtles stretched their necks out when walking out of the pond for bananas. and especially they squeaks the guinea pigs made when they knew their lettuce plate was coming. i would love to experience something like this again, working with the animals was a reward i wasn't expecting.
nobody we encountered on the road was here for the rainsong sanctuary, which was the only reason i could conceive for coming to this strip of ranch houses. everyone who volunteers at rainsong stays at the farm or at a hostel down the road. it's a mix of mostly young animal lovers and veterinarians, though for a facility that houses a howler monkey, a kinkaju, an ocelot and many other captured animals there is surprisingly little expertise. this isn't the fault of the volunteers who are often students or simply animal lovers. the professional ignorance at rainsong flows from the sanctuaries matriarch who can be found under her cloud of cigarette smoke and identified by the blue and white mu-mu she wears everyday. she does care for the animals and rainsong has become her life, but she seems to see the animals more like her exotic collection of pets. pets she doesn't know how to care for or even properly feed.
the volunteers were, for the most, tops. really great kids who love animals and some were developing a body of expertise. their hard work really keeps the place vital, and i think they have improved it significantly over the years. i don't know what other place will let me grab a one armed white faced capuchin monkey named tarzan by the tail when it's time for his tree walk to be over. or gives me as a chore feeding bananas to a kinkaju who is sleepy and only wants to grab my hand and hug and nibble it. i can't imagine a place in the states that would hand over a baby howler monkey who bites to kids fresh in the program. as rewarding as it was to work with some of the more exotic animals, my fondest memories are more regular. like the way the birds in the aviary scatter when you walk in. or the way the turtles stretched their necks out when walking out of the pond for bananas. and especially they squeaks the guinea pigs made when they knew their lettuce plate was coming. i would love to experience something like this again, working with the animals was a reward i wasn't expecting.