The drive took longer than expected, and, by the time we’d navigated about ten thousand speed bumps (they call ‘em “suspension breakers� here, and it was “shoulders of the bull� in Argentina), taken the ferry to the island, stopped for breakfast, and found the house, it was 10:30. This being the hottest month of the year in Brazil, it was already meltingly humid, and morning bird activity was toast; we wandered around halfheartedly for a few minutes then decided to go have lunch in the little town on the island. Here things felt almost Caribbean: All board shorts and flip flops and tans, lots of palm trees around a sandy beach, and, according to Rene, some excellent local surfing (though it was pretty laid-back on a Tuesday). We prolonged our siesta and didn’t gear up for birding until 3:30 p.m., sweating hard for just six new birds as we trekked around the forest this afternoon.