Volunteer Blog: Charlotte
July 14, 2026The season I spent at the station, from July through August, was dominated above all else by rain. It rained really heavily during the first few days of early July, right after I arrived. When I was inside the house, I couldn’t hear any other sounds besides the rain pounding on the tin roof. So at first, I didn’t realize that the sound of the Caribbean waves could be heard all the way there. As August began, the rain seemed to subside. Yet, in the early hours of the morning, the sound of rain would invariably reach my ears as I lay half-asleep. The rainforest during the rainy season is teeming with life, and at times it rained so heavily that it felt as if everything had vanished and only the rain remained in this world.
The staffs at Ara Manzanillo also made sure to give us plenty of personal time so that we could not only volunteer but also gain personal experiences. Whenever I find myself in a new place, I look around, discover a special spot of my own, and designate it as “my place”. Then, it feels familiar, as if I’ve been there for a long time. Playa Grande at Punta Uva, where I often went to collect beach almonds, was my beach. In particular, an old tree I found there—one that had lost its life as a living organism but still stood vigorously in its place—was “my tree”.
Art Project—Wing Project
During the two months I was there, I devoted a lot of my time to an art project to create a “Photo Zone.” Since I had originally planned to participate in an artist residency in Costa Rica, this art project was truly exciting for me. In mid-July, when Erin returned from vacation, we began discussing this project, and as soon as the idea came up, we started researching and purchasing materials. I had to piece together six small boards to capture the large, flying silhouette of a macaw from behind. However, finding the right primer was no easy task, and it took several rounds of trial and error. After all this lengthy preparation, the actual painting took about two weeks and a half. Since I knew I had to finish it before I would leave, I spent almost the entire day immersed in the work. Fortunately, everything was completed before the end of my volunteer term. Toward the end of the painting process, Alejandro came by to determine the size of the metal structure for the installation, but it wasn’t finished before I left. I was able to see the actual installation—about three weeks after I returned to Vienna—through photos Erin sent me, which made me very happy.
Health Check
Another event that was very brief but left a strong impression was the Health Check we had been eagerly awaiting, which took place in mid-August. First, we had to wait for several consecutive days of sunshine. As a result, our plans were repeatedly delayed.
All of this was carried out under Duaro’s guidance: we successfully lured six macaws into the aviary before we could proceed with the health check. All of us volunteers had to stand ready, prepared to rush in. One person would assist Duaro, another to take notes, and another to document the process with photos. This experience gave the three of us volunteers a sense of accomplishment from working together with Duaro. The Macaw I was assisting Duaro with went through the entire process quietly. I’ll never forget the sensation of unfolding his wings—quickly yet carefully.
Reflections
The two months I spent at Ara Manzanillo weren’t a long time, but they were the most fulfilling time of my life. With a keen awareness that everything around me breaths alive I felt as if I were living in the time of eternity. As my volunteer term drew to a close, I found myself chasing after the passing moments—minute by minute, hour by hour—trying to gather them up. The time had come to leave the macaws who illuminate this jungle. The time had come to leave behind these fluttering wings that seem to radiate beams of light, and the screeches that were anything but beautiful. Having spent the first week of July at Ara Station in a state of almost trance-like joy and moment-to-moment excitement, I thought I’d never want to leave this place: the jungle, the Caribbean Sea, the wetlands that exist between land and sea where trees with sleek bodies stand like snakes, their roots firmly gripping the damp earth; and jungle nights where the sound of the sea roar powerfully and I fall asleep early, as if I completely forget the rhythm of city life. I’d wake briefly to the sound of rain falling like terrifying thunder, only to drift back to sleep. Or sometimes I’d just listen to the rain for a while before falling asleep.
Those were days filled with a sense of fulfilment, as if I’d returned to my true home, where nothing was lacking. I once had a conversation about parting with my beautiful young volunteer colleagues, Mary and Manon. We wondered why we feel nostalgic about things that fade away and grieve over goodbyes. Could it be that this is simply a habitual emotional reflex? Or perhaps even some kind of learned emotional embellishment? But even if it were defined as an emotional embellishment, I could not rid myself of this sense of regret.
I also had to say goodbye to “my tree” waiting for me in Playa Grande. I said my goodbyes out loud. And I asked it: “Please call me back here again.”
