Monkeys and Sloths

Spotting Monkeys and Sloths in Manuel Antonio National Park

There’s a certain magic to waking up early in the tropics and looking for monkeys and sloths in the canopy. The first light of dawn filters through the thick jungle canopy, painting everything in shades of gold and green. It was barely 6 AM when I stepped outside the small cabin, tucked away just a short drive from Manuel Antonio National Park. The humidity embraced me like an old friend, and the air carried the earthy scent of wet foliage. Today was the day I had been looking forward to for months: the day to spot monkeys and sloths in the wild.

I had heard countless stories about the park, about how it was one of the best places in Costa Rica to witness wildlife, especially playful capuchin monkeys and elusive sloths. But no amount of research or anticipation could have truly prepared me for the vibrant life that awaited within Manuel Antonio.

Remember your camera

With a camera slung over my shoulder and a sense of adventure, I joined a guided tour at the park entrance. Our guide, a local with a deep love for the park, greeted us warmly. They assured us that today would be one of those lucky days where wildlife seemed to make its presence known. I appreciated their optimism.

We set off down one of the trails, the faint sound of the ocean in the distance. Manuel Antonio is unique in how it blends jungle and beach, offering the best of both worlds. Within minutes, the thick foliage swallowed us, the towering trees casting dappled shadows on the path.

As we walked, the guide pointed out plants and trees I might have otherwise walked past. They showed us the strangler fig, its twisted roots wrapping tightly around its host tree. It was a reminder of how interconnected everything is in this ecosystem, and how much I might miss simply by not knowing where to look. Our guide, however, seemed to have an innate connection to the land, an almost sixth sense for spotting life in the trees and undergrowth.

Expect to hear

“Monkeys are near,” the guide whispered after about twenty minutes. The entire group froze, our eyes scanning the treetops.

Sure enough, there was movement high above us. At first, it was just a rustling of leaves, so subtle you could almost convince yourself it was the wind. But then, a flash of white and black fur—the unmistakable colors of capuchin monkeys.

I stood transfixed as they moved through the branches with an effortless grace. One particularly curious monkey stopped directly above us, peering down with keen, inquisitive eyes. It cocked its head, as if sizing us up, before scampering away to rejoin the others. A chuckle escaped me, feeling like I had just been assessed and deemed harmless.

For the next few minutes, we watched the troop of capuchins play and forage among the branches. Their movements were swift and unpredictable, their energy contagious. They chattered to one another in a series of clicks and squeals, communicating in a way I couldn’t understand, but could feel. I marveled at how close we were, no barriers or cages—just the wild, unfiltered.

As we ventured deeper into the forest, the monkeys gradually disappeared from sight, their chatter fading into the distance. The sounds of the jungle filled the space they left behind—the steady hum of insects, the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of birds. Everything in the forest moved at its own pace, slow yet purposeful.

Our guide led us down a narrow trail I would have missed had I been walking alone. “Now, we look for something slower,” they said, a smile tugging at their lips. My heart quickened in anticipation. I had always been fascinated by sloths, these gentle creatures that seemed to have mastered the art of taking life at their own pace.

We arrived at a small clearing dominated by a massive cecropia tree, its large, umbrella-like leaves providing perfect cover. Our guide raised a hand, signaling for quiet. They peered up into the branches, searching for any sign of movement.

“There,” they whispered, pointing high into the tree. I squinted, trying to see what they had spotted. At first, it looked like a clump of moss nestled among the branches. But then, the outline of a sloth became clear. It was so perfectly camouflaged that I nearly missed it.

The Sloth

The sloth hung upside down, its body completely still except for the occasional slow blink of its eyes. Its fur blended seamlessly with the bark and moss of the tree, making it look like an extension of the forest itself. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight—a creature so utterly at peace, unbothered by the passing of time or the presence of strangers.

For several minutes, we watched in awe as the sloth remained motionless, save for the occasional shift of its limbs. Each movement was deliberate, slow, and graceful. I admired how the sloth seemed to exist in its own world, unaffected by the rush of the outside. It was a stark contrast to the lively Capuchins and Titi we had seen earlier.

I snapped a few photos, knowing they wouldn’t fully capture the quiet beauty of the moment. There was something about seeing this creature in its natural habitat that made time feel irrelevant. The sloth embodied the idea that life doesn’t always need to move quickly—that there’s beauty in the slow, deliberate moments.

The rest of the hike was filled with other encounters: brightly colored butterflies fluttered around us, tiny frogs hid beneath the cover of leaves, and the distant roar of howler monkeys echoed through the forest. Yet, nothing quite compared to those first encounters with the monkeys and the sloth.

By the time we reached the beach, I was tired and sweaty, but felt more alive than ever. The golden sand stretched out before us, and the turquoise water of the Pacific looked inviting. But I found myself lingering at the edge of the forest, reluctant to leave the world of the monkeys and sloths behind.

Just enjoy nature

I took a deep breath, the salty ocean air mixing with the rich, earthy scent of the jungle. As I stood there, watching the waves gently lap against the shore, I realized that Manuel Antonio had offered me more than just a chance to see wildlife. It had reminded me of the value of slowing down, of being present, and of appreciating the natural world.

In the chaos of daily life, it’s easy to forget that there’s a different rhythm to the world—one that exists in the quiet moments, in the spaces between. The monkeys and sloths of Manuel Antonio had shown me that.

As I made my way back toward the park entrance, the sun beginning its slow descent, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. Not just for the animals I had encountered, but for the reminder that sometimes, the best moments in life come when we slow down and simply observe the beauty that surrounds us.

I left the park with a promise to myself: to carry the lessons of Manuel Antonio, its monkeys and sloths, with me wherever life would take me next.

Reflections on Wildlife in Manuel Antonio:It’s no surprise that so many are drawn to Manuel Antonio National Park. Beyond the beautiful beaches and lush jungles, it offers an unparalleled opportunity to connect with nature in an authentic way. Whether watching a troop of monkeys play high in the trees or witnessing the calm, deliberate movements of a sloth, the park invites you to see the world from a new perspective.

For me, it wasn’t just about the wildlife. It was about stepping into a space where humans are merely observers, where the true stars are the animals and plants that make the park their home. It’s a humbling experience that leaves a lasting impression.

Manuel Antonio is more than just a destination; it’s a reminder that there is beauty in stillness, in taking life at a slower pace. And in today’s fast-moving world, that’s a lesson worth embracing.