Monkeys and Sloths of Manuel Antonio

Waking up early is the key

There’s a certain kind of magic to waking up early in the tropics and to see your first sloth or monkey of the season. 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 my little 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 dreaming of for months: I was going to see monkeys and sloths in the wild.

I had heard so many stories about the manuel antonio park, about how it was one of the best places in Costa Rica to spot wildlife, especially the playful capuchin monkeys and the elusive sloths. But nothing, no amount of research or anticipation, could have prepared me for the vibrant life that teemed within Manuel Antonio.

What you need to take:

Armed with my camera, sunscreen, and a sense of adventure, I joined the guided tour at the park entrance. The guide, a local with a love for the park that was evident in his animated gestures, greeted us warmly. Our Guide assured us that today would be one of those lucky days where wildlife seemed to come out in full force. I liked his optimism.

We set off down one of the trails, the sound of the ocean faint but persistent in the distance. The park is unique in how it merges jungle and beach, offering the best of both worlds. Within minutes, we were enveloped in the thick foliage, the towering trees casting dappled shadows on the path.

As we walked, our tour guide pointed out plants I would have otherwise walked right past. He showed us the strangler fig, its twisted roots choking the life out of a host tree. I wondered how much I had missed in life simply by not knowing where to look.

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

What to see and watch out for:

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 the Capuchin monkeys or TITI monkeys

 

I stood transfixed as they moved through the branches with an effortless grace. One particularly bold monkey stopped directly above us, peering down with curious, beady eyes. He cocked his head, as if sizing us up, before scampering away to join his friends. I chuckled, feeling like I had just been evaluated and dismissed as non-threatening.

For the next few minutes, we watched as the troop of capuchins played and foraged in the canopy. They chattered to each other in a language of clicks and squeals, their movements swift and unpredictable. There was a mischievous energy about them, like they were always one step ahead, constantly outwitting us. I marveled at how close we were to them, no cages or barriers—just the raw, wild world around us.

As we continued deeper into the forest, the monkeys gradually disappeared from view, their presence replaced by the sounds of insects buzzing and birds singing high above. The canopy was alive with movement, yet none of it felt rushed. The pace of life here seemed to ebb and flow with the rhythm of nature, slow and purposeful.

We were led us down a narrow, winding trail that I would have missed had I been walking alone. “Now, we look for something a bit slower,” he said, his eyes gleaming with the promise of a sloth sighting. My heart quickened. I had always been fascinated by sloths, these gentle creatures who seemed to have mastered the art of living in slow motion.

We reached a small clearing where a massive cecropia tree stood, its large leaves providing the perfect shade for creatures looking to escape the midday sun. The Guide raised his hand, motioning for silence. He peered into the branches, his gaze narrowing.

“There,” he whispered, pointing high into the tree. I squinted, struggling to see what he was pointing at. At first, it looked like a bundle of moss clinging to the branch. But then, I saw it: the unmistakable outline of a sloth. It was almost perfectly camouflaged against the tree, its fur blending into the bark and moss.

My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight of this creature, hanging upside down, perfectly still except for the occasional lazy blink. It looked like the epitome of relaxation, a living embodiment of the phrase “take it easy.” The sloth, a three-toed variety, moved its head ever so slightly, acknowledging our presence but seemingly unbothered by it.

For several minutes, we stood there in awe, watching as the sloth remained perfectly content in its slow-paced world. Every now and then, it would move an arm or shift its body, but these movements were deliberate and unhurried. I couldn’t help but admire the sloth’s way of life—completely at peace with its surroundings, in no rush to be anywhere but right there in that moment. It was a stark contrast to the capuchins, whose energy seemed boundless.

I snapped a few photos, though I knew the images would never fully capture the quiet magic of seeing this animal in its natural habitat. There was something profoundly humbling about it, something that made me reflect on the pace of my own life.

The rest of the hike was filled with other wonders—vividly colored butterflies, tiny frogs hiding under leaves, and the distant call of howler monkeys echoing through the forest. But nothing quite compared to those first encounters with the monkeys and the sloth.

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

I took a deep breath, inhaling the salty air mixed with the rich, earthy scent of the jungle. As I stood there, watching the waves lap against the shore, I realized that Manuel Antonio had given me more than just a glimpse of wildlife. It had reminded me of the importance of slowing down, of taking the time to truly observe and appreciate the world around me.

In the hustle of daily life, it’s easy to forget that there’s a whole other rhythm to the world, one that exists in the quiet moments and the hidden corners. The monkeys and sloths of Manuel Antonio had shown me that.

As I made my way back to the entrance, the sun beginning its slow descent, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. Not just for the animals I had seen, but for the reminder that sometimes, the best things in life happen when we slow down and simply take in the beauty of the world around us.

And as I left the park, I promised myself I would carry that lesson with me, wherever I went next.

Thoughts of Wildlife in Manuel Antonio:It’s easy to see why so many people are drawn to Manuel Antonio National Park. Beyond the pristine beaches and lush landscapes, it’s a place that offers a chance to reconnect with nature in a very real and raw way. Whether you’re watching a troop of monkeys swing through the trees or marveling at the slow, deliberate movements of a sloth or humming birds, there’s a sense of wonder that permeates every moment spent in the park.

For me, the experience was not just about spotting wildlife. It was about the feeling of being part of something bigger—of stepping into a world where humans are mere observers, not the center of attention. It’s a humbling experience, and one that stays with you long after you leave the park.

Manuel Antonio isn’t just a place to visit; it’s a place that invites you to slow down, to observe, and to appreciate the simple yet profound beauty of nature. And in today’s fast-paced world, that’s a gift we could all use a little more of.