Stirred by my attention, the capuchins hurled increasingly larger branches in my direction. Disguising my sense of rejection, I gave a respectful nod towards my hairy arboreal cousins and moved past the fringes of the assembly. A black dart of motion caught the corner of my eye. I looked up to the frozen figure of a perched male slatey antwren, one of the more common birds in the lower levels of the forest near Las Alturas. Close-up inspection reveals a small white shoulder patch.
Females are a plain buffy-brown, slightly darker above and paler below.
I would see and hear these active and acrobatic birds during every walk in the forest. I had memorized their nest description, certain that I would find one eventually. And perhaps I had. Staring at the rigid individual in front of me, I noticed a collection of moss drooping from his bill. A sticky pause passed between us.