Gentle droplets of rain sprinkle down amidst the forest floor. Overhead, the cacophonous sounds of blue-capped mot mots and bell-birds seemingly direct the very gospel of the place. I remain crouched in the under-story, counting every breath and remaining as still as possible. The only way to be effective is to be cautious. Suddenly a spark of blue erupts before my eyes, springing into the comfort of an open leaf. I watch the small poison dart frog shuffle slightly before settling into the greenery. I begin to lean forward on my feet, pivoting slightly as I outstretch my hands. With the speed of a spring box, I leap forward and snatch at the frog. She tries to leap out as my fingers close around her slender body, but to no avail. Grasping her leg ever so slightly, I carefully turn her over and stroke the back of her head. In the forests of Bocas del Toro, Panama, frog and human share an intimate and personal bond, one that almost superceeds time and space.
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