The Day the Sanctuary Never Stopped Surprising

That Friday in March, Omar Enrique Berdugo Cabeza set out to walk the grounds of Fundación Loros and the sector of Los Guardianes as though the sanctuary itself had decided to put on a show. It all began while washing the bird trays: when he flipped one over, a tiny brown frog appeared, perfectly still on the palm of his hand, as calm as something posing for a portrait. Then came Negrillo, the parrot, who without any warning glided down and settled on his shoulder. In aviario 2, he found a livo pollero that had gotten trapped and couldn't find its way out; a little further on, all six titis were present and accounted for at feeding time. And on the walk back through Los Guardianes, an abandoned little house had kept its own surprise waiting for him — a juvenile golero that had grown up there, between walls that belonged to no one. Back at the foundation, life kept appearing at every turn — an orange-headed gecko on the brickwork, a red mite like a drop of velvet on the bark of a tree, a praying mantis so small it fit on the tip of a finger, a green grasshopper resting on a knee, a black iguana half-hidden among the dry leaves, butterflies drifting between flowers, and a poyoneta paying a visit to the terrace. In a rubber tree, a bird with a yellow bill, yellow tail, and black plumage that no one had expected. But the image of the day arrived at the very end: in a níspero tree, two wild parrots had chosen the donated nest box to make their own, calm and free, as though they had always known that space was theirs. Not far away, the parrots of aviarios 1 and 2 — warmed through by the dry-season heat — were receiving the stream of a garden hose, pressing themselves against the wet leaves so that the cool drops would settle deep between their feathers.