April 25
Morning birding at Sauvie Island with Lindsey. We probably bored her, but if so, she was admirably patient. It was a bit quiet out there bird-wise, though pleasant in other regards. The two most exciting birds of the day were both of iffy authenticity: that is, (1) improbable in terms of range/abundance and (2) seen from the fast-moving car. So we decided that we could claim to have seen EITHER a Gyrfalcon or a Snowy Owl.
Eventually we parted ways from Lindsey, and drove off toward Washington. Before crossing the border, though, we stopped to fill up on gas. Horror of horrors, there were not enough attendants at the station to fill our gas for us! The woman at the counter was very concerned…could Don do it? Did he know how? Somehow he managed. Then we crossed into Washington, back to the normal land of self-serve gas. It was still a bit of a drive to our campsite in Gray’s Harbor State Park. We got there in the dark, and decided to go tentless for ease of getting going the next morning.
April 26
Up dark and early! And on to Westport, to embark on a pelagic birding trip. It appeared that I was the only female passenger among the thirty or so intrepid birders. Later we discovered an elderly woman disguised under an ambiguously shaped bundle of outdoorwear.
We motored out to Gray’s Canyon, normally a seabird hotspot. Unfortunately, there was little out there today, so all we could do was turn back toward the harbor after one or two “chumming” attempts garnered only a lukewarm response. The chum (oil, bits of fish, etc.) did attract a dozen or so Black-footed Albatross from downwind. These improbable creatures appeared one at a time on the horizon, reaching our boat within moments. Once in the vicinity they settled down on the water to float around and tuck in on the fishy goodness. To fly short distances they opened their wings but didn’t bother to take off completely, instead paddling their big black feet across the surface of the ocean, up and over the waves. Other new birds included Glaucous/Glaucous-winged hybrid gulls, Mew gulls, Rhinocerous auklets, and tons of Pacific and Red-throated Loons. We also had a couple gray whale sightings, and a whole 14-whale pod of orcas.
Pelagic trips make me unbelievably sleepy (a good alternative to seasickness, I suppose). We managed to drive the few miles to Twin Harbors campground before crashing. While making dinner I discovered that NOT ONLY are the local corvids Northwestern Crows instead of American Crows, but that this new species is particularly fond of pasta.
April 27
Morning trip to Gray’s Harbor National Wildlife Refuge, alongside a small airport. It was rainy AND I had to use the bathroom, so instead of birding we ate at Lana’s Hangar Café (puzzlingly adorned with both aviation-related and “Betty Boop” themed decor). We went birding after that, don’t worry. Then we moved on to some other sites in the area.
At the Ocean Shores Interpretive Center we were practically attacked by over-helpful volunteers. We did manage to get some relevant info out of them, and went for a beach walk on Damon Point…but the pouring rain deterred both birds and us. There were only a few shorebirds, along with one drenched Merlin who sat on a snag and commiserated with us.
Finally we abandoned the rainy coast and went east to Olympia, to the home of the Don’s aunt and uncle, the Petersens. They treated us to a sumptuous seafood dinner at Anthony’s Restaurant.
April 28
Not uncharacteristically, we delayed till noon and missed the only sunny part of the day. And when we finally started off northward to Olympic National Park, we only drove 20 miles down the wrong highway before realizing the mistake. All in all, a pretty typical start. We made various stops for birds, including one at John Wayne Marina (what?) and a few sites around Dungeness. It was raining hard by this time, so we took refuge under the awning of the deserted Olympic National Park Visitor Center, in order to cook dinner. Then we camped a but further down the road, at the (likewise deserted) “Heart O’ the Hills” campground.
April 29
This morning we had a fruitful trip to Ediz Hook, a sandy spit just past a big industrial paper factory area. There we saw Harlequin ducks, a new bird for us, despite the fact that they’re found in Maine as well (since we haven’t seen any there yet). We made our way back south down the Olympic peninsula amidst sporadic rain. Back at the Petersen abode, we had supper from a funny French grill thingy called “raclette” or something. It was fun. The rest of the night was a little less fun, since I was just getting the horrible cold that Don was just getting over. Also, we were still covered with poison oak. It’s nice to look back on these afflictions a week later with the satisfaction of being done with them.
April 30
It was another late departure from the Petersens’ (excuse: there’s always so much last-minute preparation, planning, internet stuff, and so forth to take care of before we go…it’s really not our fault). We went east over the Cascades, through a gauntlet of rain and snow, and found paradise on the other side…aka sunny sagebrush desert. The change in weather and atmosphere was surprisingly welcome. We camped in Yakima, the one town with a campground that worked out for tomorrow’s itinerary, and coincidentally the one town we’d been warned by Don’s aunt to avoid. We didn’t meet any unsavory characters, fortunately. But we did make the acquaintance of the Black-billed Magpie, a new bird that was soon to become a common bird (though its ridiculous silhouette still provokes a reaction of mirth from Don a week later).
May 1
After some difficulty and a consultation with two semi-clueless employees at a Ranger Station, we got on track to explore the “Wenas Valley” near the town of Naches. Oddly, I found two dead wolves (one of them HUGE) lying in a ditch, probably shot and hidden by a disgruntled farmer? We also encountered some more cheerful sights, including our first Red-naped Sapsucker, and the return of the cute little Brewer’s sparrows (seen last in Arizona).
A warning in case you are ever planning to camp in Cheney, WA: the “Peaceful Pines” RV Park is fifty yards from a double set of train tracks, and peak train time is at 3 am. Don didn’t seem to notice, but you might.
(Don is taking over to write about the next three days)
May 2
We deconstructed camp in good time. It was looking to be, for once, an expeditious departure. But then a couple things (one usual, one most unusual) got in the way. The usual thing was trying in vain to find an apartment in Bar Harbor for the summer season. The unusual obstacle was encountered on the camp premises while I tried to find a pay phone. It took the form of a portly man with a long gray ponytail walking his dog. He engaged me in conversation, and I took the bait. It was a pretty cute dog, after all. And how long could it really detain me? A little human interaction to start off a civilized day? Well, there went the next half hour. The rather one-sided discussion ranged from pow-wow’s (he’s a Native American product vendor and a dancer on the side) to personal health (his recent stroke was invoked to explain his current state of obesity).
After this late start, we headed to the Turnbull National Wildlife Refuge. Highlights there included a Trumpeter Swan and a bizarre-looking juvenile Hooded Merganser (its crest gave it a kind of fluffy mohawked appearance).
We spent just long enough at the Refuge to rack up a good number of waterfowl species and track down a singing enigma, which turned out to be our old friend, the Say’s Phoebe. Then we got on the highway and headed for the border. No, not the Mexican border. That was “the border” for quite a while. But this was a mere passage from Washington state into Idaho. I am sad to report that I saw no more potato fields on one side of the border than the other. In fact, we later learned that our friends in Moscow buy potatoes that come from eastern WA. Go figure.
We arrived at the University of Idaho family apartment complex, where Elissa (Abby’s cousin) and her husband Clay graciously hosted us for the next few nights. We quickly became acquainted with the household cast, which included Margaret (human, 6 months of age), Peshewa (hard to spell wild-cat), and Arlo (talkative Starling). Clay promptly broke out the wine and cheese. If you know us at all by now, you know which one we gorged ourselves on. In fact, we had to eat a lot of cheese just to keep up with the myriad varieties that came our way. One looked like a cantaloupe. I was impressed. We watched “The Russians Are Coming,” which was actually pretty good, as far as McBride family classics go.
May 3
A hearty French toast breakfast saw us out the door and packed into a compact car. Traveling with a baby adds a whole new layer of adventure. We were especially impressed at the array of baby-carrying hardware it took to get her around (high-tech car seat, baby back-pack, mega-off-road stroller, etc). We drove to the Heyburn State Park, on the south side of Coeur D’Aline, where it turned out there wasn’t too much going on bird-wise after all. The marshy boardwalks were pretty neat though, with a persistent Osprey trying to come up with a fish. And we saw a Ruffed Grouse in the woods up close.
Dinner was an excellent parmesan chicken thing (with cheese on top, of course). Then Abby decided to contribute in pretty much the only way she knows how. She made a sumptuous plate of brownies. Except, this time it was made in a real kitchen. And so they were back to being sinfully delightful, instead of just sinful. This desert accompanied another McBride family classic film, which I hesitate to admit I also did not mind, “Animal Crackers” by the Marx Bros.
May 4
My early morning on the downstairs couch was dominated by a Starling Serenade. Arlo’s favorite quotes are “Hai-yah!” (a sneeze imitation corrupted into Karate Kid), “Here’s your breakfast,” “Arlo is a pretty, pretty bird,” and a spirited if strangely tuned version of “I’m a little teapot.” This is all much more impressive when one isn’t in the process of waking up. That being said, I’m glad I wasn’t upstairs—I’d take vociferous starling over crying baby any day.
Some of us went to church, but one of us did not. He stayed behind in an effort to get some planning done. While that did not happen, he did get other businessy things done. And in a fit of guilt, he did all the dishes before others got home.
After lunch, we all went to Moscow Mountain for some more hiking, this time in some impressive Ponderosa Pine habitat. Birds were hard to locate in the tall canopy, but we did get some looks at Chestnut-backed Chickadees, a Red-naped Sapsucker, and a fly-by Rufous Hummingbird too. Margaret was a trooper and didn’t cry much at all today.
The evening was spent on a well-contested game of Spades, which was great fun until Abby decided to cheat her way to victory. This, you understand, is the only explanation for my defeat.
(Handing it back to Abby for the final stretch).
May 5
A huge thanks to the Dodson family for hosting us all weekend! After leaving Moscow we set off southward down the panhandle on highway 95 (not to be confused with a slightly larger road on the east coast). This road took us through a landscape of huge, beautiful hills, coated in all shades of green. We weathered a bizarre Bug Blizzard that left our windshield indelibly spattered. I saw one suspected Swainson’s Hawk.
At the Neat Retreat RV Park in Fruitland, ID, we made full use of the wireless services and could have borrowed a dvd (how neat is that?) but decided against it.
May 6
Westward back into Oregon and full-serve gas (the attendant took pity on us and wiped our bugspattered window). In the town of Burns we reserved a campsite, an unprecedented attempt at foresight and responsibility, then continued south 30 miles to Malheur Refuge HQ. On the way there we stopped at a pond to marvel at the dozens of black terns dipping and circling. Turns out headquarters has quite the array of yardbirds: Yellow-headed Blackbirds, Western Tanagers, Yellow Warblers, Bullock’s Orioles, Black-headed Grosbeaks, Lazuli Buntings, Rufous and Black-chinned Hummingbirds…all in numbers.
At HQ we also found out that the remaining birding sites were all 20-40 more miles south (apparently the annual water influx hasn’t worked its way very far north yet). Furthermore, one of them required being there at 6 am. So we decide to waste the $17 we’d already paid on a campsite 30 miles north of headquarters, and camp at the only other campground in the general region: down at the extreme south end of the refuge.
May 7
We woke up at 5:00 and left Page Springs Campground early, but not quite early enough. By the time we got to the sage grouse lek it was around 6:00, and we found seven male Greater Sage Grouse crouched motionless among the sagebrush. They didn’t budge throughout the next hour. It was still kind of neat that they were there to begin with, even if they weren’t still puffing up their weird yellow sacs and strutting and whatnot.
The rest of the day we spent retracing our route from the day before, and stopping at a lot of sites along the way. We saw a Sandhill Crane with a Red-winged Blackbird riding its back. Don spotted a Sage Thrasher. We scrutinized the finer differences between Franklin’s and Bonaparte’s gulls. And we saw a gazillion White-faced Ibis feeding in fields everywhere. We made another stop at headquarters, where I drew Yellow-headed Blackbirds for a while and Don fraternized with other visitors. We also visited the one-room museum full of tons of stuffed birds…it’s weird how stuffed specimens look like they’re a different size (usually smaller) than you’d expect from seeing live ones in the wild.
After stopping in Burns to fill up on gas, we started back east into Idaho, and changed time zones permanently (we’d already done so temporarily a couple days before). At Caldwell Campground we had soup for supper and conked out.
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