I am tramping in dark woods, though it’s a sunny day here in Costa Rica. A man’s voice calls out “ocho,” “diez,” and a string of Spanish words. I know the speaker is Bernal, a local forester, though I can barely see him through the dense vines and the stems of young trees. He is calling measurements of red-marked trees to another forester, Jeanette. She stands braced on both feet to write his numbers on her clipboard.