LA FORTUNA, COSTA RICA — Near a lively stretch of Highway 142, one of Costa Rica’s countless sloth tours tempts visitors with a confident pitch: a guaranteed sloth sighting — or your $60 back.
Stepping onto the park's trails, curiosity builds with each turn, as visitors crane their necks to spot one of the slow-moving creatures in the trees. Our guide said he’d only had to issue a refund once in his 10 years on the job — a testament to how reliable sloth sightings are in this park. This patch of forest, he explained, has everything the sloths need: food, shelter and safety from most predators. So, given the freedom to roam, they still stick around.
The guide’s story was from the heart — and touching in its simplicity. But as the tour continued, it became harder to ignore the contradictions hiding in plain sight. The patch of forest, though lush and alive with birdsong, was small, bordered tightly by paved roads and infrastructure. City sounds pierced through — engines running, horns honking, and on the day we were there, quite a bit of construction. It was less a hidden forest sanctuary and more an urban forest patch surrounded by the busy city.
The guide highlighted the park’s commitment to ethical and responsible tourism, explaining how its approach balances conservation with sustainable business. He shared the park’s origins: the owners originally planned to harvest the land for lumber. However, when they discovered sloths living in the trees, they reconsidered. Instead of cutting them down, they decided to create a sloth-watching trail, turning their land into a destination for nature-based tourism.
Regardless of the origin story, though, some experts argue that these kinds of sloth parks are not what they appear. Sam Trull is co-founder and executive director of The Sloth Institute Costa Rica, where she and her team work on sloth welfare and conservation through rescue, rehabilitation and release.
Trull believes sloth parks and similar attractions are far from natural.
“Scientifically speaking, it's very abnormal,” she said. “It's not a part of normal sloth behavioral ecology to find that many sloths in such a degraded forest, i.e. really non-forest.”
She said that sloths are often placed in such parks for the sole purpose of tourism, living in trees short enough to ensure an eye-catching view.
Costa Rica adopted enlightened wildlife protection laws in 2017, guided by the motto "when in doubt, favor nature.” The country became the first in the world to ban wildlife selfies. Its wildlife conservation laws prohibit collecting or extracting animals for any reasons other than those related to conservation and research/education. But scientists say the problem isn't the laws — it's lack of enforcement. Trull said many businesses still manage to bring in animals by labeling themselves as “rescue centers.” Some allow tourists to interact with animals even though such contact is technically illegal.
Trull explained that while it's clear sloths would not naturally make their way to some sloth parks, it's difficult for authorities to take action without proof that they were moved there. She and her team have worked with government officials to rescue captive sloths, pointing out signs like poor nail health or unhealthy conditions.
“As long as the government isn't seeing them moving [sloths] into these places for the purpose of people taking pictures, then they can't catch them technically doing anything wrong and can't prosecute them,” she said.
Even beyond roadside parks, wildlife scientists warn that negative human interactions with animals are becoming more frequent as Costa Rica draws nearly 3 million foreign visitors a year to a country roughly the size of West Virginia.
Despite the progressive wildlife protection laws and extensive forest conservation areas, the number of tourists seeking close encounters with animals can cause them significant stress. Sloths can spark a human “sloth jam,” that surrounds the animal with hundreds of tourists. Monkeys face danger from electrocution on power lines. Birds suffer fatal collisions with huge picture windows in fancy hotels and homes.
Sloth-themed merchandise in Costa Rica highlights how wildlife is commercialized. (Photos by Kat Tran and Maria Avlonitis/WUFT News)
Sloth-themed merchandise in Costa Rica highlights how wildlife is commercialized. (Photos by Kat Tran and Maria Avlonitis/WUFT News)
Animal encounters
As we walked quietly along the sloth-watching trail, the sounds of birds chirping and leaves crinkling filled the air. The group paused as our guide pointed to a sloth high in the trees, a mother with her baby cradled at her belly. It was a picture-perfect moment for the tourists and a beautiful snapshot of Costa Rica's national animal. But the sloth mother was moving more than I expected. She climbed up and down the branches with urgency, shifting from one limb to another, as if unable to stay still. It felt incongruous, watching this symbol of Costa Rica — the beloved sloth, known for its calm, serene presence — moving about.
After we left the sloth park, just 10 minutes down the road, our bus suddenly stopped. I could feel a buzz of curiosity in the air. I stood up to see what was going on, and that’s when I saw my first “sloth jam.” The traffic-stopper was hanging tightly to its leafy tree branch along the roadside. But the scene around it was far from natural. More than three tour buses stopped, along with haphazardly parked cars. Nearly 50 people gathered in a circle, all trying to get a glimpse. Tourists snapped pictures from every angle. The sloth, for its part, seemed oblivious to the frenzy. But as chaos unfolded beneath, it became clear how even well-meaning human presence could easily disrupt animal lives.
Watch above: Tourists form a sloth jam in La Fortuna, Costa Rica. (Gabriella Chavez/WUFT News)
While encounters like a "sloth jam" contribute to the strain, the greatest threat facing animals is the ongoing loss of natural habitats, some by the expansion of hotels and other infrastructure to bring tourists closer to those habitats. As urbanization expands, forests are cleared to make way for new buildings and roads, disrupting ecosystems and threatening wildlife.
Growth of infrastructure driven by tourism also increases demand for resources like power and water, adding another layer of threat.
“We have seen a lot of cases of electrocutions with monkeys,” said biologist Rose Marie Menacho Odio at Universidad Estatal a Distancia Costa Rica. “This event often tends to upset people a lot, as when the animal gets electrocuted it is a very apparent situation and it causes a really strong and striking impression.”
Monkeys rely on trees and branches to move through the forest. When land is cleared for development, they’re forced to use power lines instead. Tragically, many electrocutions involve mother monkeys that die with their young on their backs, leaving the babies orphaned. Other primates, as well as sloths, also attempt to cross power lines, only to fall and suffer severe limb injuries that prevent them from returning to the wild.
Even in some of Costa Rica’s most pristine wildlife reserves, tourists can’t seem to resist trying to interact with animals. Kenneth Alfaro at La Selva Biological Station in northeastern Costa Rica said photography, including selfies, remains a challenge even given the law prohibiting selfies. Attempts to capture the perfect shot can not only disrupt animal behavior, he said, but increase the risk of stress and harm as visitors get too close.
“We have a bridge here, and sometimes monkeys cross the bridge,” he said. “And when people cross at the same time, they just kind of face each other, and some people don't have the culture or the environmental education to say, ‘OK, I'm gonna step back, let the monkey pass, and then I continue.’ They take advantage of that, they go too close.”
Another problem is camera flashes, which can disrupt the sleep cycles of nocturnal species like frogs and owls.
Alfaro said that in response to these and other concerns about human-wildlife interactions, La Selva Biological Station is working on new regulations aimed at better protecting both the forest and its inhabitants.
One pressing need is to make sure tourists don’t leave trails so as to protect animals like the Honduran white bats that live and nest in La Selva. The fluffy white bats build their tent-like shelters under large leaves. Some visitors venture off trails to find and photograph them. Under the proposed rules, this practice may no longer be allowed.
Tourists can form unofficial trails that can damage the forest, especially in swampy areas where frequent foot traffic can significantly disturb an ecosystem. While these restrictions might limit some wildlife viewing opportunities, La Selva wants to prioritize species protection.
“We're checking, what should we allow?” Alfaro said. “What should we not allow?”
A bird in the hand
With its oversized, rainbow-colored beak and glossy black feathers, the toucan is one of the most iconic and unmistakable birds of the Costa Rican rainforest. Despite their bright appearance, toucans blend seamlessly into the canopy, flying through the forest gently and quietly. But their curious nature and fast, low flight patterns can become deadly when a clear glass window appears in their path — an invisible wall in what was once an uninterrupted forest.
Such is another dangerous human encounter, as greater numbers of foreigners who discovered Costa Rica’s wilds as ecotourists now build homes with big glass windows to show off the trees, said Menacho Odio.
“They build these houses in the middle of the forest with big picture windows,” she said, “oftentimes without having any knowledge of their implications and problems that these windows cause for the birds.”
In the wake of collisions, Menacho Odio said, people often try to rehabilitate injured birds, helping them stand and regain wing function. However, due to the high speeds at which these birds fly, they may have unseen internal injuries. Without proper follow-up, many of these birds succumb to internal injuries days later.
These quiet, unseen injuries are a reminder that human contact isn’t always loud or immediate — it can be subtle and still detrimental. And even the most tenacious bird-watchers or other animal-obsessed visitors may unwittingly take part. I experienced this first hand at Monteverde Cloud Forest Biological Preserve, when the trail suddenly became crowded and chaotic as photographers rushed to try and catch a glimpse of a quetzal mother that had nested in the trees. The commotion rippled up and down the trail, drawing in other visitors — all hoping for a glimpse of the elegant bird with its crimson chest and a strikingly long-feathered tail.
In some cases, the obsession to add birds to a sighting list takes on more intrusive forms — like the use of bird call playbacks. These recordings, often played from cellphones or portable speakers, are designed to lure birds like the quetzal out of hiding.
But the use of calls or playback is considered invasive. It can directly and indirectly affect birds’ natural behavior when they are attracted to the sound, causing abnormal behavior that can include abandoning their breeding sites.
The Costa Rican Ornithological Association’s Code of Ethics for Birdwatching advises that playback is sometimes important for scientific research. But it is discouraged for recreation and tourism — along with the flashlights or laser pointers that even well-meaning visitors might aim at birds nesting or mating.
Later that day, I visited a popular hummingbird café known for its rows of nectar feeders designed to attract dozens of hummingbirds at once. The air buzzed with the whir of tiny wings, and flashes of iridescent green and violet zipped past in every direction. But what stood out wasn't the birds. It was the tourists. Many stood just inches from the feeders, phone cameras extended, some even thrusting their devices directly in front of the hummingbirds with no regard for the birds’ space. The close-up experience seemed exciting for many. But it also felt uncomfortably intrusive — like a smaller, more controlled version of the chaos on the quetzal trail.
Coexisting
Costa Rica’s breathtaking biodiversity and commitment to conservation have made it a global model for ecotourism. However, as tourism and development continue to expand, so do the challenges of balancing human activities with wild-animal protection. Whether you’re a tourist exploring the country’s lush rainforests, a foreign resident building a home in a scenic landscape, or a local working within the tourism industry, everyone plays a role in protecting the animals that help make Costa Rica so special. Choosing ethical wildlife experiences, respecting park boundaries, and supporting conservation initiatives all can help ensure Costa Rica remains a haven for wild flora and fauna.
In some cases, visitors simply don’t know. “I just feel like that's the only thing that really makes a difference, continuing to talk to people and educating them, and being like ‘Hey, if you really like sloths, you shouldn't support this,’” said Trull of the Sloth Institute.
The government campaign #StopAnimalSelfies has helped raise awareness about the harm caused by contact with wild animals. Some spots offer tourist selfies with stuffed sloths instead.
Public awareness about bird collisions also seems to be growing; I spotted different variations of adhesives, bars and cords in picture windows throughout the town of Monteverde, a reassuring sign that the community is actively taking steps to protect local birds.
Menacho Odio, the biologist, emphasized that ecotourism has in many ways been positive for Costa Rica, protecting a great deal of land and generating income that can inform communities and educate tourists.
“The problem arises when we forget what it stands for and we only focus on human enjoyment,” she said. “It’s important to reflect at all times what’s best for those that visit us, for the locals and for the biodiversity present. We can always improve.”
