Costa Rica: Raising the Bar
for Conservation
By Marta Yamamoto, Berkeley
Daily Planet
When traveling through Costa
Rica it’s best to emulate the
sloth. Take it slow, very slow.
Costa Rica requires maceration,
allowing time for her to soak
into your pores. On a recent
visit I received sage advice
from my guide, Luis Diego Soto:
“Close your eyes and listen.”
Listen to the voices of the
forests, mountains, rivers and
the life within. Listen to the
voices of the people.
I listened to what they all were
saying about Costa Rica’s
stewardship of her natural
resources.
With over 27 percent of land
protected and preserved, Costa
Rica has raised the bar as a
model for conservation. In land
the size of West Virginia exist
12 life zones and 5 percent of
the earth’s flora and fauna,
making Costa Rica one of earth’s
most bio-diverse areas. From
beautiful rain forests, volcanic
mountain ranges, misty cloud
forests, jungle rivers to
mangrove swamps and vaulting
canopy trees, life thrives.
In Coter Lake’s rain forest, the
sounds are those of water, drop
by drop, working its way down
through tiers of foliage, and
the whine of the giant cicada.
Here the nutrient-rich soil
layer is thin, requiring flora
to grab a foothold wherever
possible. Every square inch
becomes a habitat, nothing is
wasted. One Guanacaste tree, the
national tree of Costa Rica,
teems with life—red bromeliads,
Sobralia orchids, mosses, ferns,
blue sky vines and massive
termite nests.
Another sound is the “capi, capi”
of the Maleku, indigenous people
who are the guardians of the
forest. Through Soto they
explain, “Outside we are the
same, two eyes, two ears, two
arms, two feet. What sets us
apart? What we believe in our
hearts and think in our minds.”
Through their crafts, like the
soothing rain cylinder and balsa
animal masks, they work to
preserve their forest.
Government regulations have
aided conservation. Protected
land is surveyed and catalogued,
plant by plant. Permission must
be granted even for the removal
of one tree. Within Costa Rica,
one acre of forest traps five
tons of carbon dioxide and
releases the same in oxygen. As
an incentive, the government
buys oxygen credits from
individuals maintaining forests
on private land. Quotas for
visitors have also been set in
the more popular parks and on
trails within the parks.
Monte Verde Biological Preserve
is a primary cloud forest of
diverse terrain, under intense
humidity. Winds sweep across
this land of miradors: in
English, passages of windswept
uninterrupted green, where there
are no signs of human habitation
as far as the eye can see.
Listening here yields the joyful
calls of birds, a symphony of
song. Sharp eyes and Soto’s
spotting scope reveals the
amazing quetzal, emerald
toucanet, screech owl and black
guan. Ears tuned to the cellular
might hear the aerial roots of
the strangler fig as it
surrounds and embraces an unwary
ficus, slowly sapping its life
and creating a latticed
tree-structure of its own.
While 50 percent of the
population still makes a living
from agriculture, over 186
protected areas have made
tourism Costa Rica’s number-one
industry. This has resulted in
thousands of jobs as guides,
drivers and in the service
industries, as well as a
dramatic rise in the value of
land. My driver one day, Oscar,
related the story of a convert
to ecology. “There was a man who
didn’t care about conservation;
he wanted to cut the trees down
in the quetzal forest. Now he
saves the trees and leads groups
to see the quetzal.”
Tourism has its down sides, as
is often the case when money
competes with the environment.
Some areas, like Quepos, have
been overdeveloped, resulting in
wall-to-wall hotels and strains
on the water supply. Before
quotas were set, Manuel Antonio
National Park was overrun with
beach enthusiasts whose lack of
eco-interest contributed to
wildlife like the white-faced
capuchin and squirrel monkey
becoming habituated to human
food. But it’s all a balancing
act. As Soto remarked, “The
money collected at Manuel
Antonio helps support less
popular parks.”
In the mangrove swamp I hear the
sound of water lapping against
tree roots: trees preventing
erosion, helping to transform
wet land to dry, trees whose
roots create nurseries for
crustaceans and fish as they
filter salt. As the boat slowly
glides, I observe the red, white
and black mangrove forests, one
of the most productive for
removing carbon dioxide and
producing oxygen. I watch ibis,
ringed kingfishers, a northern
tree boa and a tiny fur-ball,
the silky anteater. Then I hear
a plop, a mangrove pod hitting
the water, sinking to the
bottom, imbedding itself in the
silt, ready to grow roots and
begin the cycle of life once
again.
Costa Rica’s paradise is not
perfect, but it’s a work in
progress in the right direction.
By abolishing her army in 1948,
Costa Rica has been able to
channel financial power to her
people—30 percent to education
and another 30 percent to health
care. Literacy is at 93 percent.
The government subsidizes
education and provides
tuition-free technical training;
unemployment is very low.
There are many voices speaking
in Costa Rica; their sounds fill
the air. The richness of the
wildlife fills your eyes. This
small country on the path of
conservation can easily fill
your heart.
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