
Bradypus variegatus
Slow-motion cecropia specialists: look up, then look up again.
The brown-throated three-toed sloth has committed so completely to slowness that its fur hosts an ecosystem: green algae for camouflage, and moths that live nowhere else on Earth, shuttling between the sloth and the dung it descends, once a week, all the way to the forest floor to deposit. That weekly commute is the most dangerous hour of a sloth's life and the least explicable habit in mammalogy; the leading theory involves keeping the moth garden growing. Everything else is economy: leaves for food, a metabolism at half-speed, a body temperature that drifts with the weather, and a face permanently arranged into a smile it did not choose. Costa Rica without a sloth sighting is a trip incomplete.
Solitary, arboreal, nearly silent; moves maybe 40 meters in a day. Swims surprisingly well when rivers interrupt the canopy.
Leaves from a personal portfolio of trees, especially cecropia; digestion of a single meal can take days, so meals are rationed by chemistry.
Scan cecropia crowns and ask local guides, who track individuals. Overcast light is kind to the fur; wait for the slow head-turn, because it is the only action coming.
Never touch or hold a sloth and refuse any photo-with-sloth offer; handling stresses them severely and fuels an illegal trade.
Generalised encounter areas, not exact locations. Each shape is a grid cell coloured by how likely the species is there.

Tapirus bairdii
Ancient forest engineer; patience is the only technique.

Panthera onca
Tracks along the beach at Corcovado; the animal itself is a gift.

Panthera pardus
Cryptic, solitary, and everywhere, if you know where to look.

Alouatta palliata
The sound of the neotropics at first light.