CHICO AND THE CHOCOYO

       I sat in the wooden chair on the red-tiled veranda.  Jerry finished his SKYPE session for work and now all was quiet.  I could now concentrate on my writing.
     But all of a sudden, we heard the sound of cheerful whistling coming toward our cabin located in the midst of a coffee field.  That was Chico’s way of warning us that he was walking into our vicinity since we had no screens and our windows were wide open during the day.  
    This elderly Nicaraguan caretaker was very helpful.  He didn't seem concerned that the gringos on his finca are not fluent in Spanish. 
     “Hola!” I cheerfully greeted.  He scampered like a ten-year-old up the steep limestone staircase to our porch. Setting aside my laptop I waited to find out why he stopped by.  

     A yellow plastic bag of fresh oranges and mangoes dangled from his arm. He informed us that they were very ripe and needed to be eaten right away.  
     Just last night he dropped off a handful of lemons and limes. Early this morning, before we had toasted our bagels, he brought us bananas. This area was rich in fresh fruit.
     Jerry, who was eating a cookie, motioned to it and asked Chico, “Muy bueno?”  That was his way of asking Chico if he enjoyed the oatmeal cookies he gave the man when he carried in our bags after going to La Feria, the outdoor market.
     “Si, deliciosas!”  Chico called out as he scampered back down the stairs headed for home. Jerry hollered out, “Chico!  Mi amigo!”
     The caretaker chuckled. But when he got to the driveway, he saw something. He ran back up and motioned for me to come and look, then he pointed at my camera. "Photo! Mira!"
     Curious, I removed the lens cap, and I rushed out to see what it was that he wanted me to photograph.

     He pointed up to several holes in the stone retaining wall.  There were pipes in the holes, but I couldn’t see anything else.
     He kept saying, “Un chocoyo esta allá,” (a chocoyo is up there). He told me it was an animal, but I had no idea what I was going to see.
     Chico set a rickety ladder up against the wall. He climbed up a few steps and started slapping right next to a hole. He said he could see the chocoyo and wondered if I could. From where I stood, I saw nothing. He motioned for me to climb this semblance of a ladder leaning against the wall so that I could see better. I was a little hesitant to go up the twenty feet, but figured it could not be a dangerous animal.
     One step at a time I carefully placed my feet.  One hand gripped my Canon, and the other grasped the rungs of the makeshift ladder. 

     I peered into a hole not bigger in diameter than my fist, not wanting to miss this creature’s grand entrance for my photo op.
     The caretaker slapped his hand on the wall and motioned for me to slap near the hole. EEEWW! I wondered what was going to come out at me? What would I do then?  Tentatively, I slapped the wall, but not too hard. Nothing happened. I came back. I shrugged and turned to go up to the cabin, but this guy was determined that I was going to see this chocoyo. He climbed up toward the hole again and I heard slapping.  He asked if I could see anything, again I shook my head, "No."

      Chico motioned to my camera and said to get ready for a picture. He got even higher up and then blew gently inside the hole. The beautiful green head of the conure peeked out. I snapped a good shot. Chico blew again and with a burst of green feathers, I heard the flurry of wings and caught another blurry photo of this beautiful tropical bird in flight.

     The chocoyo landed on a nearby power line with a tree in the background, so it was a bit hard to distinguish, but I snapped away, hoping that I could crop one of the photos and enlarge it, to see it better. If only I could get another good shot of it. 

     I showed the photos to Chico. He teased that if I printed photos of this bird, we could sell tickets for people to come and see it. We laughed together and I thanked him again for showing me the beautiful bird so that I could capture its image.  

    

      I had hoped to get a better photo with my zoom lens one day, but that was my moment in time. That was my moment with Chico, the humble Nicaraguan, and that was my moment with this exotic bird that hides in our wall.

     Each moment is a gift that cannot be repeated; and cannot be replaced. These special frames of time hold a magic of their own. Unique is its timing, its lighting, its emotions, and the delight or sadness. These moments will not repeat at that same exact pitch, nor will the atmosphere ever be the same. I want to fully embrace them with no regret, with eyes wide open, and with a spirit of wonder ready to connect every day.