This is Bird Note.

It's early morning in Costa Rica.

We're in a mixed tropical and temperate forest,

where a stream runs to the Pacific.

Tiny bats nestle in a tree after a night on the wing.

A great kiskady calls,

and gray-capped flycatchers sally forth from

willow-like shrubs to catch insects in mid-air. Now a dozen white ibis, large, graceful birds with

curved pink bills, fly by in silent formation, low to the water.

Deep in a thicket, two black-hooded ant-shrikes call.

It's only 8 a.m., yet the heat and humidity are rising.

By noon, a few black vultures will be eating the remains of an iguana.

Chestnut mandibled toucans will shift lazily from one tree to another.

We'll lie low until the sounds of cicadas give way to the sounds of crickets.

In the tropics, darkness falls quickly.

Tonight, however, the moon is full, and a chorus like no other begins to pour forth.

The calls of Bufo Marinas, marine toads.

The land is pulsing with life.

For birding out, I'm Michael Stein.