Afternoon, Bel Campo…
The morning was highlighted by work at a local kitchen. Fulfilled, tired and sweaty, I made my way to my room at Bel Campo lodge, and into the pool, followed by an ache-relieving long shower.
My room is a cottage that sits down a pathway on the side of the lodge’s main hill. The bedroom is complimented by an apron of a deck that sits securely over a twenty-foot drop to the jungle outside.
I laid down to take a nap.
As soon as I felt my way into the pile of pillows, a trilling frog-like sound lured me out of the cushy, pillow top bed that I had nestled in to. I had learned just days before from a Kek’chi Maya guide, that the ribbety gutteral sound comes from the toucan. I was eager to see one and take in its contrast of color and large beak.
As I made my way to the deck, I scanned the trees to see if I could locate the bird. The noise sounded from top of a thatch palm tree. I knew that if I waited, it would appear. The afternoon wind blew, and even through the screen I could still feel its warmth wrap around me. The wetness of my hair softened, and I felt a completeness and comfort in my linen robe.
It is my favorite time of day.
The toucan appeared, just a minute after it stopped chirping. It dipped downward and as it came to its side, it clicked its beak together. I heard the clicking and stood still, watching it as it moved from the palm to a Gumbo Limbo. The greenish yellow of its face was perfectly framed by the black of its cap and back. The beak was a rainbow of colors, more marvelous than I pictured, better than I was told it would be.
Kristin Fuhrmann Simmons