Morpho helenor
Drawn from open occurrence records in and around Corcovado, aggregated onto a 10 km grid. A cell is matched by its centre, which can sit up to 16 km outside the boundary, so this covers the surrounding country too.
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 February and April, with the widest coverage in February and April. A quiet month can mean the animal was absent, or that nobody was looking.
A grid cell is a square of the map, not a sighting: 9 squares of 10 km carry records for Blue Morpho in and around Corcovado, and the 12 records behind them were collected by other people and published openly. Nothing here counts animals, and a place with more records is not always a place with more animals.
The blue of a morpho butterfly is not pigment but architecture: microscopic ridges on the wing scales interfere with light itself, throwing back a metallic azure that flashes with every wingbeat. In flight the effect is a strobe, blue, gone, blue, gone, as the drab brown underside alternates with the shine, and predators lose the thread mid-air. With wings up to 15 centimeters and more across, a morpho bouncing down a forest trail is less a sighting than an event. The underside carries a row of owlish eyespots and, when the butterfly finally settles on fermenting fruit, its preferred bar, the show switches off entirely and a leaf-brown triangle is all that remains.
Skip commercial releases and pinned-specimen souvenirs; wild patrol routes give you a better encounter than any staged one.