“Come here. Fast,” says Tavo as he rushes deep into a forest of ferns, hanging vines, and massive tree trunks. Stopping suddenly, he passes me a pair of binoculars and points to a tree branch. I adjust the focus and locate a chubby bird: It’s nothing more than a gray-colored pigeon. “The olive-backed quail-dove,” says my delighted guide, breaking into a toothy smile. “A rare find.”

“Way to go,” I respond, patting him on the back in an effort to share his enthusiasm — but it’s hard not to chuckle. I’ve just spent the past two hours observing three types of toucans, including the large-billed chestnut-mandibled toucan with a swath of yellow feathers on its neck. I’ve also watched a mother howler monkey cross a suspension bridge with a baby on her back. And I’ve spotted the strawberry poison-dart frog with its red body and blue legs. But what creature gives Tavo goose bumps? A dull-colored dove that I would notice only if it flew smack into my office window.

“Are you prepared to see one of the most beautiful birds?” asks Tavo, hurrying into the bush once again. Tavo had no way of knowing just how ready I was, but in fact it was a beautiful bird that inspired me to return to Costa Rica and spend a week exploring the tropical forests in search of our fine feathered friends.

Months earlier, I’d been near the central Pacific coast of the country, looking at one of many new real-estate developments sprouting up near the beach, when I heard loud squawking overhead. High above me on the branch of a palm tree was a pair of scarlet macaws with their impressive pageantry of red, yellow, and blue dress. Now, I’ve never thought of myself as a bird watcher — just someone with a couple of bird feeders in the backyard, hoping to spot that fleeting yellow warbler in the spring and the beady-eyed red-tailed hawk in late fall. After seeing those glorious creatures, I understood the allure of finding new birds in the wild, but I hadn’t yet gotten to the point of starting a species list or recording migration patterns.

Luckily for me, Costa Rica doesn’t discriminate based on expertise: Beginners can have just as much fun bird-watching in this tropical clime as the most avid lister. In a country the size of West Virginia, you’ll find approximately 850 species of birds — more than in all the U.S. and Canada combined. This abundance is a result of the wildly diverse terrain sandwiched into a sliver of Central America: A relatively short drive can take you from the hazy, cool cloud forests found atop 4,600-foot peaks down to a hot, sticky rainforest found near sea level on the Pacific coast.

My first stop on this return trip is La Selva Biological Station, a forest reserve nestled on the border of Braulio Carrillo National Park. Professors and their students come to La Selva’s protected environs to study ecology and evolutionary biology. Ornithologists and rookie birders alike can visit La Selva to go on naturalist-led strolls. On a good outing, you might see more than a quarter of the 448 bird species that have been recorded here.

This is where Octavio “Tavo” Ruiz shows me his beautiful bird: a big ball of brown that’s known as the great potoo. For me, the large yellow beak of the toucan we spotted jutting out from the trunk of a trumpet tree was much more exhilarating. But Tavo brushes it aside, saying that “the toucan is a common sighting in La Selva” — unaware that, regardless of that fact, it’s not common for me. Before I can explain this, though, he hears the high-pitched call of the Montezuma oropendola and is off in hot pursuit. I follow close behind. Without Tavo, an old-growth forest lush with large ferns and tall sura trees might as well be uninhabited. It’s his trained eyes that find the birds and their nesting spots, often high atop the forest canopy.

The following day, Tavo tells me we’ll be hiking in an even more remote and primordial forest on the outskirts of Monteverde’s legendary cloud forest. Sendero Tranquilo is a private 200-acre reserve owned by the Lowther family, who also happen to be proprietors of nearby Hotel El Sapo Dorado, one of Costa Rica’s first eco-lodges. To minimalize the environmental impact of tourism, they allow just 20 people to enter the reserve each day.

They also provide the assistance of an impassioned naturalist named Mauricio Ramirez, who is able to set up his telescope on a tripod almost instantaneously when he hears or sees a bird. Within moments of our arrival, he treats me to closeup views of a striped-tail hummingbird (one of more than 50 types of hummingbirds in the country), a brilliant-green emerald toucanet, and the large turkey-like black guan. I take Ramirez at his word when he says the guan’s meat is “very tasty.” Before there was a supermercado in town, Ramirez’s family had to hunt for their food. His father was one of the first settlers of Monteverde, a farming village with short, steep, verdant ridges and bowls, not unlike the terrain of the Scottish Highlands.

This high up in the mountains, the weather is surprisingly cool for a Central American locale, especially when you’re hemmed in by the misty billows of a cloud forest. The perpetual dampness creates a slick layer of moss that covers the branches and trunks of trees. Add thick vines that drop down from towering ficus trees, clay-covered trails laden with fallen passion fruit, and the large leaves of the banana plants, and you have a fecund terrain that could easily be mistaken for the mise en scène from The Lord of the Rings.

A former researcher at the Tropical Science Center in town, Ramirez loves being a guide in this setting. He gives us cilantro and cinnamon to smell; shows us what part of the palm tree to cut to find the meaty heart of palm; sticks a flashlight into a hole to see an orange and brown tarantula; has us swing from one of the vines à la Tarzan; and employs throaty calls in an attempt to lure one of the most famed birds of the cloud forest, the resplendent quetzal. It’s not the size of this quetzal species that gets birders dreamy-eyed, but rather its plumage — iridescent green head and wings, a crimson belly, and a billowing plume that extends two feet past its tail.

It’s too early in the season to find the quetzal (the best months are February through April), but Ramirez conjures another tantalizing treat. “This is impressive,” he says as he quickly sets up the telescope. I peer into it and my jaw drops as I make out the bushy white eyebrows and wide eyes of a crested owl looking right back at me. “Holy cow!” I blurt out as Ramirez softly chimes in, “Beautiful, just beautiful.”

The next day, I journey to Carara National Park without a guide — the avian population is so thick and varied here that even the most amateur birder can easily find splendors all around. I enter this thicket of rainforest just as the park opens at 7 a.m., and within minutes I hear the distinct “raak, raak” of a scarlet macaw. Gazing up into the branches of a white cedar tree, I spot a dazzling display of color. A male and female are perched side by side, a living symbol of the macaw’s lifelong monogamy. As I watch them “kissing” and grooming each other’s feathers, I realize there’s a small, red head peeking out of a hole just behind them. Focusing on the infant macaw, I see another head pop out of another hole — a sibling.

I study the family of four for several minutes before setting out on an early morning walk amid the cashew trees and streams of the small park. Drenched in sweat from the humidity, I return to the tree later in the morning and find one of the macaws still hidden under a large leaf. A naturalist leading a group of visitors was about to walk right past this gem when I stop him and point out the macaw. Somewhat surprised, the guide asks if I’m a bird watcher. “Yes,” I reply. “Yes, I am.”

GETTING THERE
US Airways offers nonstop service to San José from Charlotte, Philadelphia, and Phoenix.

WHERE TO STAY
The spacious cabins of Hotel El Sapo Dorado are nestled into the hillside of Monteverde. Note that the last hour of your drive to Monteverde will be on a rocky, pothole-strewn wreck of a road; a four-wheel drive vehicle is advised. The resort features an excellent restaurant that offers many organic vegetables grown on site. While you’re there, ask at the front desk for the tour of the Sendero Tranquilo Reserve, which costs $22 per person.
(011) 506.645.5010
sapodorado.com

Tucked away in the countryside high above the urban buzz of San José, it’s hard to believe that Finca Rosa Blanca Country Inn is only 15 minutes from the airport. Watch the turquoise-browed motmots play in ancient fig trees as you sip the inn’s organic-grown coffee. Then talk to the owners about their efforts to make the place sustainable and beneficial to the community — they use solar panels to heat the pool and hire local artists to paint murals on suite walls. Rooms start at $250 a night and include breakfast.
(011) 506.269.9392
finca-rblanca.co.cr

WHERE TO GO
La Selva Biological Station is located 90 minutes northeast of San José. A dorm-style room, all meals, and a half-day tour costs $70. If you prefer not to stay here, you can still take a guided walk for $40.
(011) 506.766.6565
ots.ac.cr/en/laselva

Carara National Park is ten miles north of Jacó. Admission is $8.

WHAT TO BRING
The Birds of Costa Rica: A Field Guide, by Richard Garrigues and Robert Dean, features illustrations of more than 820 bird species. The book is an invaluable guide, both before your visit and while birding.

Boston-based Steve Jermanok is a travel journalist whose work has appeared in National Geographic Adventure, Men’s Journal, Budget Travel, and Forbes Life.