The drive took longer than expected, and, by the time we’d navigated about ten thousand speed bumps (they call ‘em “suspension breakers” here, and it was “shoulders of the bull” in Argentina), taken the ferry to the island, stopped for breakfast, and found the house, it was 10:30. This being the hottest month of the year in Brazil, it was already meltingly humid, and morning bird activity was toast; we wandered around halfheartedly for a few minutes then decided to go have lunch in the little town on the island. Here things felt almost Caribbean: All board shorts and flip flops and tans, lots of palm trees around a sandy beach, and, according to Rene, some excellent local surfing (though it was pretty laid-back on a Tuesday). We prolonged our siesta and didn’t gear up for birding until 3:30 p.m., sweating hard for just six new birds as we trekked around the forest this afternoon.
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