Agalychnis callidryas
Drawn from open occurrence records inside Osa Peninsula, aggregated onto a 10 km grid.
Occurrence records measure where people looked and found something, which is not the same as where the animal is. This is a relative likelihood, not a probability.
Records exist for January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November and December. A quiet month can mean the animal was absent, or that nobody was looking.
The postcard amphibian of the tropics earns the job at the moment of waking: a sleeping red-eyed tree frog is a green leaf-shape, everything tucked away, until a disturbance snaps open two enormous crimson eyes and flashes the blue-and-yellow striped flanks and orange feet. The theory is startle defense, a half-second of predator confusion that buys a leap. By day they sleep pressed under leaves; by night they hunt insects through the understory around ponds. Females lay eggs in jelly clutches on leaves overhanging water, and the embryos hold a party trick biologists adore: sensing the vibrations of an attacking snake, they can hatch early and escape, dropping into the water days ahead of schedule.
Nocturnal and arboreal; males call in rain-season choruses, a short chack from vegetation over still water.
Night walks in the wet season with a guide. One diffused flash at low power, a few frames, and done; the eyes and wet skin do the rest of the work.
Never reposition a frog for a cleaner shot; skin absorbs whatever is on your hands, from repellent to sunscreen.