December 18th - Christmas Bird Count Round 2: Lyle-Hood River

Klickitat River

Bingen Society House

I'll say again. What an affordable, clean, pleasant stay this was. 7 AM coffee, and a little breakfast. On my trips, I'm normally flying out the door as the sun rises, but. . . with 185 birds pocketed for the year, and a pretty fixed area for the Christmas Bird Count, I figured the potential of squeezing out some new birds was pretty low. 

I got my things packed up, and then got a call from John, "Hi Tim. . . are you going to be here soon. . . ?" I realized I'd mixed the meeting times for Saturday and Sunday. "Be there in 20!" I promised, still sipping coffee. I think I ended up getting from Bingen to Lyle about 15 minutes later - a distance that I'd not had dialed in quite so well before this last day in the county. 

Klickitat Balfour Trail

Youcanstartwiththetrailheadacrossthestr.....partwheretheroadtakesyoudowntotheriv...ndIhadgoldeneaglesatthetreedoyouseethattre....

I nodded, and to be fair, I really did hold onto a lot of what John passed to me quickly after I arrived. There are times like this where I am like a full glass of water, and someone giving me more information is just pouring water that will not be in that glass for long. But there are a fair number of things and places and place names that I'd put together in my head over the course of a year, so I felt like I kind of knew what part of our sector I would be taking solo once John and his wife Mary departed. 

We had an interesting task - birding the Klickitat River for about 8 miles above the mouth. Interestingly, and maybe frustratingly, this did not include the mouth itself. Some of the best birds of the year in the county have shown up at the mouth of the Klickitat, although both John and I were without spotting scopes. Close up birds seemed like they would be more our speed.

My first birds out of the gate at the Klickitat Balfour trailhead were Lesser Goldfinches. There have been some of these showing up regularly in spots in King County where I live. With those observations have come some nice photos and even videos of the birds, sometimes alongside the more common American Goldfinches. That said... I still don't have enough experience with the two species to be quite so confident.

Red-tailed Hawk

But I'll tell you - drop two or three dozen of the Lessers drop into a bush right in front of me, giving their distinctive "tweeyoo" call. I had a few failed photo attempts, as it was still not all that light out, but did get a good one eventually.

It was an interesting woodpecker day! An interesting woodpecker year for the area, honestly. Northern Flickers were everywhere. They're never really uncommon, but the numbers were a bit higher on the count. Acorn Woodpeckers are kind of a brag for this particular CBC. In recent years, these birds have moved from a single granary tree to a wider area. I've probably seen them in 3-4 different locations over the course of the year and found two during my morning walk. Finally, Lewis's Woodpeckers were notably absent. Not a great acorn crop or something along those lines, so they exited the area for the winter.

I had two birds I was really hoping to see here: Barrow's Goldeneye and Lincoln's Sparrow. As I made it up the hill a little bit from the parking, things opened up a little in the direction of the river. There were some well-beaten trails running across fields towards the river, so I followed them down. I'd missed this on previous visits and was happy to find that this brought me right to a little cove full of 60 Mallards, a dozen or so American Wigeon, and some ever-present domestic Graylag Geese.

I swear there were sparrows here

No Barrow's on the river, so I climbed my way back up, stopping at most of the blackberry brambles to give a quick pish for sparrows. I did get a pair of Golden-crowned, and a few Song Sparrows, but the numbers were pretty low! At one point I excitedly followed what I thought could be a Fox Sparrow, only to find . . . a Yellow-rumped Warbler. Good laugh at myself over that one. And not my last laugh of the day. 

A bend in the trail took me up the hill to meet up with Old Highway 8, and then to the upper parking area. From there, I met the Lesser Goldfinches once more, and then finally found a blackberry bramble with some new birds for the morning, a White-crowned Sparrow, and a Lincoln's Sparrow. The latter was new for the year - my 186th species in the county for the year.

I was pretty happy to get a good look at the Lincoln's. Even if it didn't stay up for a pic - they're just such pretty birds. I was musing that they might be the sharpest looking sparrow, in my opinion. But there may be others that are close. Like maybe Sagebrush Sparrow? Regardless, it was a nice moment enjoying a new year bird in December.

Soon after I was back in the car. 

Klickitat River Trail

I crossed back over to the West side of the Klickitat River and started up the road. I wasn't 100 percent on where to stop, but I was a solid 79 percent, and figured I could just keep an eye on the side of the road for any possible turnoffs that would bring me closer to the river. It wasn't too far when I found one - a little spur that led all the way down to the river. I recalled John describing the potentially bad conditions, but it was pretty clear, and not all that long. 

At the river itself, I quickly found a mix of Common and Barrow's Goldeneyes (187!). They flew fairly quickly, which was a bummer, as it was a nice opportunity to see the two species side by side. Viewing them from behind first, I could tell I had both species of males by the coloring on the back. Barrows has Black. They both have black, of course, but Barrow's has just a little more. The facial markings are the easier way to sort them out, but . . . as was the case today, these birds always seem to be on the run!

Come baaaack!

From this little parking area down by the river, I was able to walk back up towards the road and catch the Klickitat River Trail. I wasn't sure how far up I should walk it, but I wanted the steps! This took me past some churps that I thought might be Varied Thrushes. A little patience showed them to be Hermit Thrushes, and one gave me pretty good looks! Shortly after this, I got a surprise as a flock of about 90 Oregon Juncos passed through the trees, headed south to the mouth of the river.

About 90?? On a normal day, why make such a statement? But this was, after all, the Christmas Bird Count! Every bird seen during the day is tallied as carefully as possible, helping us track species over time. Generally speaking, winter is the best time for this, because the birds are neither migrating (spring, fall) nor nesting (summer). So, what started with 1,2,3,4....gradually changed into 45,50,55 as it became more and more apparent that this was a flocking lot of juncos!

Farther up, and I stopped, hearing odd noises. It took a second to recognize it as fishing that I was hearing! This was a spot on the Klickitat where native fishing was allowed, and about a dozen people were out that day. 

This is where I had a chance to get a better look at some Barrow's Goldeneyes. There were about a dozen of them on the river, and they weren't flying away at the first sight of me. It took a few minutes to realize that they were largely hemmed in by the groups of people fishing on both sides. I snapped some pictures, and then had a few more rounds of I-sometimes-forget-what-birds-sound-like. My first was a calling Kestrel that I thought sounded great for Prairie Falcon, until I listened to my recording later. Even worse was the American Dipper song that I could only place as a Rock Wren. 

The latter one, I can kind of defend. American Dippers prefer fast-moving water. Fast-moving water is loud. It's hard to hear dippers sing. But at this odd little spot, the water was not moving all that fast. This had me less ready to hear a dipper, and it also meant that I could hear more of the song than I ever really had before. Not just the loud ringing "cheer cheer cheer" but some of the other varied calls as it cycled through its repertoire. I just sat there and scanned the rocks on the far side of the river for the Rock Wren and never found it! Again, a recording saved the day once I had a chance to hop on my laptop.

This recording and sorting out of observations actually happened at the little cafe in Lyle. One more round of eggs, sausage, and hash browns there. I actually did need a fresh cup or two of coffee. This got me warmed up and ready to tackle a piece of the area that I mistakenly thought had been assigned to me.

Barrow's Goldeneyes

Fisher Hill Road

I got to this junction, where the trail crosses the river, and Fisher Hill Road also heads west off of the main road to .. OH, I just now as I typed this connected the dots. Fisher Hill Road cuts past Appleton, goes past Panickanic (sp?) Road, and eventually hits the Conboy NWR area. I'd been on it a couple of times during the year, but never this far down. 

It was a bit after noon now, and the birds were getting quieter and quieter. I did come across another smaller flock of Juncos. This time, when I heard them deep in the trees off of the trail, I pished a little bit. Right as I did so, an oak leaf came flying through the air to a branch closer to me. I laughed that off, but then, when I pished again, the leaf came even closer. . . 

. . .

There had been so many times where I'd mistaken oak leaves for birds during this walk. A flock of oak leaves dropping down to feed in the snow; an oak leaf soaring across an open field. But were these mistakes? The response from the oak leaf when I pished. . . I mean, you don't have to be a scientist to explain that, right? Later at dinner, I did ask about whether Klickitat birders counted oak leaves in their species lists. They seemed hesitant to admit it. . . but Klickitat birders play their cards close to the vest, I think. I'm telling you though: oak leaves.

The rapids around here were quite beautiful, and I was curious about the different fishery operations. A search once I got home told me that this stretch is one of the places where dipnetting is allowed for Native anglers. 

Another dipper. . .a Black-billed Magpie on the ridge. . . and a lot of quiet. I didn't head too far up the trail before I decided to call it a day on this stretch. Back out on the road, not knowing how far down John and Mary had birded, I made a few stops trying to add to our count for the day. 

One stop was a little more optimism than wisdom. I saw a busy feeder at the side of the road, and a wide bit of gravel near the house. There was a "no parking" sign. Now. . . I really don't want to be that birder out there, one that disregards signage like that. In my head, I thought a couple of things: I'm not parking, I'm stopping. . . someone who loves birds enough to put a feeder out will be excited to hear about the Christmas Bird Count. . . these things were not true. The homeowner was friendly but firm, and I got headed back towards Lyle. 

Last Call!!

Dinner would be in Bingen, so I decided to make a stop around 2:30 at Bingen Pond. It's just such a good spot, that it made sense to make a visit, even though I wasn't following up on any particular sighting. 

The ducks on the pond all looked pretty familiar, so I peeked out towards the Columbia, and found my last Klickitat bird for the year.

Red-breasted Merganser (188)

Crappy shot, but I'd discussed this with Cathy on Saturday. She'd asked at one point, "Do you want to go back for a better shot?" I just laughed and explained that good photos would set the bar higher, "And then it's just work, work, work!" This was a shot that I was happy to have at all - the duck was diving pretty actively, and I was kind of shooting blind and crossing my fingers. Pencil thin bill, classy mohawk, and no signs of distinct white coloring on the chin or neck. I was happy when I heard that Cathy was able to follow up and find it the next day - a new county bird for her, which is certainly a rarer thing for her!

Ayutlense

There was an open invitation to meet at this Mexican restaurant in Bingen for a post-count dinner. No pics from dinner! It really is a shame, because people were pretty lit up from the day. Yes, it was largely quiet for birds, but a day of birding always means a few good stories. Many people got to reconnect or put new faces to old names. We ended by tallying our count for the day. With only the people who could make it, we hit 99 species, and I'm certain we added a digit to that once everything rolled in.

I think I've used this expression before, but I will again - what a treat to have that time with such neat people. 

One bit of excitement was some scrutinizing of a photo of a blackbird. We confirmed that a Tricolored Blackbird was relocated at a feeder near Dallesport. Very nice count day bird. 

"Well. . . there's time! Are you going to chase it?"

I chuckled then and am chuckling even now as I type this. "It's. . .not what I do." I explained. 

Exit

People eventually trickled out for the night, as did I. The sun was down on December 18th, and my Klickitat year was complete. 188 species for the year, and a life list up to 195 species. This despite a few bumps along the way - I was pretty content. It really is an amazing place. I hope that a read through this blog makes that clear, if only through clumsy photos, and rambling words. 

Happy birding, everyone, and best wishes in the new year!

December 17th - Christmas Bird Count Round 1: Trout Lake-Camas Prairie

The More the Merrier!

A sentence that no extrovert could disagree with, right? An important part of these silly trips I make is to try to step into these beautiful places and get to know them a little better. But. . . oh my goodness, Klickitat County! Here I was at the very tail end of the year - I had been to the beautiful places, I had found the good places to get breakfast, or burritos, or beer. But somehow, I'd spent not a single day out on the trails or side roads birding with anyone from the county. 

They're a funny bunch down there in Klickitat. I think it's the geography: 

No interstate highway in Washington is going to take you past Klickitat County on the way to anything. Maybe you are on your way to Oregon. . . but is that really safe? And any road leading to Klickitat is guarded by Mountains, sketchy roads, and places where you're probably not supposed to be. 

So, it would make some sense that Klickitatonians Klickatites Klicksters residents of Klickitat have developed a culture, an ecosystem, that doesn't rely on system inputs. It just cruises along, fueled by internal intermingling. 

The intermingling is significant! Bird lists in "The Klick", if you poke around on eBird, include a lot of shared lists. I even learned of Secret Societies of Klickitat Birders who get together regularly to explore the county, and other individuals who only bird. . . because they enjoy it! Heading out and studying birds without a care for posting lists, these people are like. . . lemurs in Madagascar. . .Sakoku-era Shoguns. Maybe Hobbits.

Nonetheless, somehow, I finally found a way in. Not just one, but two days in the Klick, birding and socializing with Klickitat birders on Christmas Bird Counts. *I* had a merry old time, and hope that the addition of a wet-sider was welcome in the end!

Stuart and Cathy

In this context, it's fun to do a brief introduction of Stuart and Cathy, my co-birders for the day. Both made a living off of various biological endeavors: hydrology, forestry, bird-banding, Western Gray Squirrel Surveys. . . they've been around, and have worked for or adjacent to many of the major government bodies that try to keep a little eye on our ecosystems and make sure they're healthy. 

Stuart was someone I knew about because I use eBird. A stroll through past years in Klickitat shows that he was likely the Klickitat County year list record holder many years running. It's interesting because most people in the state who keep lists. . .well, *most* use eBird, but most also report their lists to Washington Birder. You have some interesting exceptions - birders with thousands and thousands of lists from birding trips, with not a one of them on eBird. 

You also have folks like Stuart, who adds his observations to eBird to support citizen science but doesn't report his findings to Washington Birder. He's not alone in this regard! Not in Klickitat County. The greatest life list for the county from Washington Birder: 264 species. On eBird, there's a *year* list this year of 258 species. 

The notebook of a *good* observer

The worst part of all of this. The absolute worst part. I may be listed in Washington Birder as the most prolific single-year birder with my list in the high 180s once the year is done. 

I hope someone fills out a form this year and saves me that embarrassment. Stuart, incidentally, set a mark in the 190s many years back, and has found 265 different species in the county over the years. Getting to bird with someone who knows the county *that* well was a treat. 

Cathy is someone I knew from eBird - not for the lists with impressive numbers, but for the extremely detailed lists. Citizen science is not a sloppy endeavor for her. Detailed, accurate sightings with plenty of additional notes are the norm. And her passion - bird-banding - has let her see birds in neighboring Skamania County that (with *some* effort, because members of the Washington Ornithological Society didn't really know her) had never been recorded previously. 

So, I landed in quite a car. 

Owling?

They're pretty clear in any Christmas Bird Count. "Owling is not expected."

??????

Of course, after a night's stay with my Mom in Yakima, I zippittied my doo dah to Klickitat early. I had to do work before I got out the door, and just misunderestimated the time it would take to get to the spot on the BZ-Glenwood Highway where I was hoping to find Barred Owls. I arrived at the intersection with Laurel Road at about 7:45, with the sun already over the horizon. It was behind hills to the East, and socked in by a little fog, so I hopped out and tried anyway. No owls, but I did start to see the first stirrings of birds - a Common Raven, a Red-breasted Nuthatch, and an American Robin. 

I would have stayed a little longer, but it wasn't dark, and it was like... 8 (o'clock and degrees), so I continued on my way to the Gilmer Valley. 

OH! That's what this place is called

I'd been up and down the BZ-Glenwood Highway a time or two over the course of the year. When I got to this area, I instantly recognized it, although I'd had no idea that the location was called Gilmer (on the map), or the Gilmer Valley (by Cathy and Stuart). It's a beautiful little stretch along this road - where it breaks open into wide open pastureland. 

On this particular day, we had full access to the fields. Stuart, who actually set up this particular count circle 15 years ago, had long ago made contact with this particular family, (one with a road named after them a little ways North at Conboy National Wildlife Refuge) who found some value in being able to track the bird species seen on their land in winter. As noted above, "the more the merrier!" Biodiversity in an ecosystem is generally a good sign of stability. 

We started at some of the stable areas near the barns and other buildings on the property. The easiest and earliest species were ones that even the landowner recognized as invasive species, Eurasian Collared-Doves and European Starlings. Picking through the Dark-eyed Juncos poking around in the mud, we came across a Slate-colored Junco. There are several subspecies for these sparrows, with the most common locally being Oregon Juncos, so this was a nice little surprise. 

TOSO far away

California Scrub-Jays were also in the mix, as well as American Crows and Common Ravens. We strolled up the road a little and found a few birds up away from the road. A juniper had not only an American Robin (singing a whisper song) but a Townsend's Solitaire. These birds are rare overwintering birds in the state and have a strong preference for junipers. This particular tree was full of juniper berries, which we saw the bird eating at short distances. Varied Thrushes added a third member of the thrush family to our count. 

Eventually we got close enough for great views

Juniper berries - solitaire food

One of many private roads 
we had access to

We had some excitement for a "different hawk" that the landowner had seen nearby. While we had hopes of a Rough-legged Hawk, we ended up with a Red-tailed Hawk - the more common large hawk found nearly anywhere. This may sound dismissive, but the reality is that Red-tailed Hawks are some of the most variable birds out there. This one was very lightly colored, with only a small number of darkly streaked feathers across its breast to identify it. 

As we birded, I had done some owl calls, and a short while later were rewarded with some brief but distinctive calls from a Barred Owl. This was my 185th species for the year - a nice addition in a year where I'd had very few species of owls!

We crossed the road and pulled over at a spot that they'd referred to as "the gut pile". When animals from the farm died, some parts of the carcasses were brought to a small pile near the bottom of a hill. On this particular day, the hill itself was pretty icy, so I was the only one venturing to the bottom. This was a nice enough stop, with a couple of woodpeckers added to the day list: Hairy Woodpecker and Red-breasted Sapsucker. I found Chestnut-backed Chickadees, Brown Creeper, and Golden-crowned Kinglets at the bottom of the hill. 

Birding highlights of the day

Mount Adams with a cap - a pretty picture to distract you after I just told you I was going 
to give you birding highlights

We were not very far into our day. . . but had already hit *most* of our birding highlights for the day! Water was frozen over in so many places, trees were frosted, ground was covered by a thick layer of crunchy snow. Wild Turkeys were among the few birds that found a way to make use of the area - seen on a few different stops. Golden-crowned Sparrows were found at a few different stops, and another surprise, a single female Red-winged Blackbird, was found when we returned to our original spot. 

Birding highlights aside. . . 

I really wish I'd had this trip at the beginning of the year! "Bob and I had White-headed Woodpeckers here." "Wilson found a Great Gray Owl here." and so on and so on. As we circled the south end of Conboy National Wildlife Refuge, I learned so much about spots for birds, about trees (including some larches, and stories that ranged from Ponderosa Pines to Western Hemlocks), and about Christmas Bird Counts Past. 

We dug into Klickitat County a little bit. Bickleton - the really conservative town that still found a way to be welcoming to people passing through. Goldendale - the really conservative town that found ways to push out diversity. White Salmon - the little haven of liberals that snuck into the county. We talked about sheriffs, post office workers, and schools. Influential families, private lands, and birds - so much talk about birds. Although I teased Cathy a little, pretending that any new bird information would slip away from my brain like food off of DuPont Teflon, I really did pick up a lot from the two of them, from accipiter IDs to the timing of Lincoln Sparrow migration, to the expansion of Hutton Vireo habitat. 

Mount Hood with its own cap

Meanwhile, back at the ranch. . .

We did double back to our starting spot, where we added one more species to the list for the day - a single female Red-winged Blackbird. Not a big surprise at other times of the year, but it was a good bird for the day! We said our goodbyes, continued down the road. . . pointed out that I needed to get dropped off at my car. . . turned around successfully on a narrow winding road, caught a glimpse of a Western Gray Squirrel (the first I've seen one - most of the ones we see are the invaders from the East), and then dropped me off in my car. 

Bingen Society House

What a great find this was. I wish I'd known of it earlier, as it gave me a bed for the night for just about 40 bucks. The hotel has a spa, event space, and fancier rooms, but also has bunks at the affordable aforementioned rate. It was comfortable, and everything I needed for the night, especially given how comfy the common spaces were. It's set in the historic Bingen School, and they do make sure to have fun with the connections - even the keycards were in little sleeves with the words "Hall Pass."

I'm planning on hitting Skamania County next year, and this may be a place I stay on some of those trips! It's just across the river from Skamania, sitting at the far West end of Klickitat. 

I sat and poked at some work over a grilled cheese and soup, then sat in a common area and did a little reading before heading off to bed, ready to tackle the Lyle Christmas Count the next day. 

A Quiet Fall - September 6th

The quiet fall has continued. My car was in the shop for nearly two months for a major repair, with my binoculars waiting inside. . . or so I thought. In early October, at long last the repairs were done, and the binoculars that had been in the car had gone missing. It's a rough thing. . . I shouldn't have left them in there. Outside of the missing binoculars the repair place had been extremely communicative, helpful, etc. To their credit, they are working now (in the middle of November) to get them replaced. 

But this explains why my September trip was made without binoculars! With my camera still also awaiting repairs, I made an optically challenged trip through the county in September. 

I started it off with a trip to visit a friend in Yakima, taking the day to pick up some birds along the way - a new species in Thurston County, and another in Lewis (my 175th! a Black Phoebe) along the way. We spent the evening watching the Mariners and catching up. He apologized in advance for an early rising time, fearing he'd wake me up with the clanking around at 4-5 in the morning. "Perfect!" I told him, knowing that bright and early is never a bad thing on trips like this. 

I made one more effort to find some Yakima birds on my way to Klickitat County, setting up near a retention pond in Mabton before sunrise. This, however, was not welcome in the end! "This is an active farm. . ." I was told by the property owner, and I had to simply move along. 

The Mabton-Bickleton Road was a new one for me. I'd been hoping to enter the county from as many different directions as possible, and this one seemed like a no-brainer. That's where I caught the sunrise:

One bird that I was hoping for in this corner of Klickitat was Gray Partridge. I was encouraged when a pair of them flew from the side of the road as I ascended. I was still a mile or so from entering Klickitat County, but they did add to my life list for Yakima, which had slowly creeped up during the year, now sitting at 199 species.

Another "Welcome to Klickitat County" sign. I think I've hit them all at this point? It's been a lot of enterings and leavings over the course of the year, and there are only so many ways in and out of the county! As large as it is, much of the northern border it shares with Yakima is reservation land. On the south side, the border is with Oregon. 

I drove it slow, keeping an eye out for Gray Partridge in particular, but also had it in my head that a Prairie Falcon might be possible. Those thoughts kept me occupied all the way in to one of my favorite little towns: Bickleton!

I had to stop in at Bickleton, because I had long been planning to bring a check or cash to pay my months-old lunch tab from the Bluebird Inn. Unfortunately, they were closed, but the cafe across the street happily took the check, and got it delivered later in the week. I sat here and got much-needed wifi, so I was able to sit down and get some work done as I had my breakfast. 

It was neat as always to strike up conversations with the locals. We got into a talk about partridge, and it was neat to hear the discussion One person had noted that they hadn't seen any. Another noted that the weather (plenty of rain during the year) had meant that there were some especially good areas where they were concentrated. "Try Pine Creek Road", he encouraged me, and so I did. 

This was a pretty little drive! In the end, it was not productive for any of my target birds, although it was fun to see a few Western and Mountain Bluebirds lingering around. 

I debated with myself on how to get down to the Columbia, and in the end decided to go with Hale Road, making my way over to Alderdale Road and the Carrot Ponds. My friend Kevin had told me that the Carrot Ponds would be a good stop. I did wonder what might have been possible with binoculars! That said, a few shorebirds (Least Sandpiper, Spotted Sandpiper, Killdeer) were seen and heard fairly close in, and there didn't seem to be much activity in the far end of the ponds. It was still neat to finally stop at them, and to see the orange bits of carrots floating around on one end of these manmade ponds!

From here, it was a long drive along the Columbia towards Lyle. I had a reservation at Domaine Pouillon to pick up some wine, taste some wine, and grab some wood. The wood was a bit of oak from the property, and was procured for use in a project I plan to poke at slowly over time: 

1) Get a mug from every county in the state.

2) Get a piece of wood from every county in the state.

3) Cut out the county shape from that piece of wood.

4.) Eventually put all of those pieces together, pop some screw hooks into them, and enjoy the fanciest mug-holding display ever. 

I've had this idea floating around for a while now but have been giving it some more attention lately. As I sit here in November, I have just returned from a fairly impromptu trip over to Mason County, where I was able to get some wood from Mark and Beth Biser over at Still Waters farm. They got me a few different pieces to work with, including some Lodgepole Pine from their property that was blessed with a little bit of Blue Stain. Apparently, there are pine beetles that leave their eggs in the wood, bringing a fungus with them that stains the wood blue! So at least one county is being cut out now. 

The oak made sense for Klickitat, and why not from a winery that I've been enjoying? We talked a good bit about birds, wine, wood, weather, and all that jazz before I hit the road. 

A Prairie Falcon seen along the drive on the Columbia was my 185th bird in Klickitat for the year. That. . . was two months ago, and I am still trying to get a hold of binoculars! Sad to say, the 200 birds I imagined for the year may not come, but we shall see. I think having exceeded 175 for the year, given all of the challenges that life sent my way this year, has been quite an accomplishment. And what's the worst-case scenario? I have to come back to Klickitat County sometime down the road? Sign me up!

Stay tuned! I will see if I've made my last trip to Klickitat for the year. I am hoping I have not, and will need to sort that question out in the context of holiday plans. 

June. . . August. . . September

I lost my father in June.

And I'm sorry, I really am, that I've got you here at the intersection of life, birding, and Klickitat County, just to be greeted by loss. We can go back to winding, dusty roads, to the Ponderosas, the sage, and the firs, and to the deep wide Columbia. We can go back to the fields of flowers, the deep canyons, and the oaks, to the wineries, the huckleberries, the whitewater and yard signs. But. . . I lost my father in June, and I needed a few minutes.

I'd say it changed the course of my year, but this was in the back of my mind when I chose Klickitat. Dad's health. . . well, my mother called it a dumpster fire, and one of my brothers noted that he was "working towards a blackout on his health ailment bingo sheet". I wanted to see them more, but also wanted to make sure not to be a burden. Being in the next county made it very easy to weave in some visits, and to leave, but to still be a phone call away. This choice has left me with no regrets.

Balance. Balance is so important. It's easy to lose sight of that when I make some of the choices I make during these years - heading off at 3 AM to get to an owling spot, driving a few hours out of the way to make it into town on a snowy day, heading off on hikes without any GPS on hand - but there really is an effort to find balance. 

The biggest way balance shows up is through my decision not to chase birds. There have been some interesting reports coming through, of shorebirds, terns, gulls, owls, and flycatchers. Hopping in the car would have meant more birds for the year. It would have meant more pictures, more stories, and more details in the picture I'm trying to paint of the county for the year. 

Balance means changing plans, and putting this behind friends, family, and work. That said, all three of those groups know the importance of this time for me. 

I do ask my daughter, who is working her way through high school, if it's ever too much time away. As I was getting ready to start a similar year (10 years or so ago), I'd dragged her into watching The Big Year with me, and she actually yelled "NO!" at the TV when Owen Wilson makes the decision to go chase a bird instead of meeting his wife at the hospital. She has good guardrails. :) So, I do ask her often, and we're good. It's nearly the only measure of balance that I really need. 

This year wasn't accidental, ultimately. This post was not a surprise. I needed a few minutes (months) for sure - but I'm ready to head back in earnest, and to blog in earnest. I've learned to trust the process over time. I know there's value in these explores. I know there's value in typing and sharing. 

So, I'll try!

June 

I'm having a little laugh here as I type this because I have to remember. . . what the heck *did* I do in June?? But it's coming back now. 

My son needed a ride back to Ellensburg for college. Perfect! It always made it easier to "bundle and save", and I'd really wanted another crack at Pa-knick-knack Road (I think it's called Panackanic Road, but the sources I've come across seem to be flexible on that point - so shall I be). He had time with friends in the Seattle area that lasted a little longer than I'd expected, so it was a late drive. 

It was already dark, in fact, when I entered the county (in the wee hours of May 30th, despite the title above). I actually pulled off at Satus Pass, a spot where Flammulated Owls had been reported in years past. I couldn't complain about any traffic noise at that hour! I found a spot to hop out of the car and stroll along the road at night, throwing the occasional hoot or toot out into the warm night air. While I didn't get any owls, I did add my first Common Poorwill of the year (species 169 for the year - a tally I'll continue to keep in parentheses). 

I didn't arrive at Pancreatic Road until roughly 3 AM! I loved this. I think there's Venn Diagrams that I could use that would help me describe how weird that is. Driving at 3 AM during a new moon down back roads off of back roads with no shelter for the night besides the car, in order to look for owls to add to my Klickitat County year list. There's a sliver of people, I suppose, where that might sound like a great night. 

The stars alone made it worth the drive. 

I spent much of my life looking closely at the stars - pointing lenses upward in search of star clusters and galaxies. I found the Pleiades when I was in junior high, and continued from there, finding the whole extent of the Messier Catalog. There's something difficult about completing things, at least for me. I did get a healthy case of the "now-what?"s, and it was likely not too long after that when birds became the answer to that question. 

But still, there is a warm familiarity that I feel on a cold starry night that is hard to describe. The treasure map over my head turned with invisible slowness as I got out of my car, looked and listened for owls. Occasionally, I'd look up at it, tracing through the Milky Way, and along the back roads that led to this nebula, that globular cluster.

The back road below my feet held a lot of promise as well, with reports of so many different kinds of owls right there on Picatrix Road. But birds aren't stars. That is something that makes it more interesting, more surprising, and more frustrating all at once! You may have a map to a flammulated owl sighting. You might even follow that map to a flammulated owl! But birds fly. Birds use a measure of care - they're not always ready to say hello, simply because you drove to where they are. And on this night, it was as quiet as stars.

I caught a few winks in my car, and tried again as twilight started creeping back in. This included a little walk across a long meadow that stretched north from PiquantSnack Road. Chipping sparrows offered the best views, as well as some Western Bluebirds, and Hairy Woodpeckers. There was no shortage of birds here, but I added nothing for the year, not so much as a Common Nighthawk - something I had really expected that I'd find. 

I looked it over one more time, "Well played Pandemic Road. . . well played. . ." I told it admiringly, as I finally made it back to Fisher Hill Road. A Townsend's Solitaire flew along a fence line in front of me, improving a poor view I'd had of one a month earlier. 

I stopped once for a little view of Mount Adams. 

And then I returned to this great hummingbird feeder I'd visited with my friend Kevin during the previous month. I took a picture of a hummingbird. And then my camera stopped working. 

I have, as noted above, been way too busy, and that has affected my ability to troubleshoot, diagnose, locate receipts, contact the camera folks, etc. But this thing would go "click" and present me with a black image. This was not a result of leaving the lens cover on (but I appreciate you thinking of that! It's not a bad guess).

But that is yet *another* hiccup in my year! I did find the camera receipt and will be looking into how repairs work. We are working with the kid from the bench, my poor li'l flip phone. It has been doing its best for me, and nothing more. I'm thankful for it. 

I finished watching the hummers come in to the feeder and flit back away - long enough to be satisfied that there weren't any Black-chinned Hummingbirds mixed in with the Rufous, and Calliope. 

This feeder was sitting across the road from Conboy, which would not have been a bad stop itself! Trout Lake, however, was my real destination for the morning. I drove up North from town, a little farther than Kevin and I had previously explored. I made a point to stop at a few bridges along the way, as Harlequin Ducks use the White Salmon River to breed in the summer. They are nearly impossible to find for about a month, as they use secretive nests on fast-moving rivers at mid-elevation. But June was not a bad time to look. I came up empty here too!

A little farther up the road, I parked for a hike at Trout Lake Natural Preserve. The parking threw me off a little, and I had a mild concern that I had parked illegally, but I think I was okay. The walk was, in the end, about three miles out and back along a flat, tree-lined trail. Most of it was up from Trout Lake, with the occasional creek crossing. In terms of birds, it was just peachy: Added for the year: Gray Catbird (170), Willow Flycatcher (171), Veery (172), and Swainson's Thrush (173). It was all of the birds you would not quite expect in early May but would certainly expect in late May. 

The trail brought me to Trout Lake Creek, where the trail slowly changed from wide and clear to sketchy, to an all-out bushwhack. Along the river should have been good for Bullock's Oriole, I thought. Above the trail should have been good for Olive-sided Flycatcher, I thought. But imagined birds are not (as it turns out) countable. American Redstart and Hermit Warbler had also been had in recent sightings, but I could turn up nothing but Black-throated Gray and Townsend's. 

Pacuvius Duskywing

Convinced that a Bullock's Oriole was hiding around here somewhere, I finished the hike, drove to the other side of the lake, and walked the shorter path along the South - eventually getting a Bullock's Oriole (174). 

From Trout Lake, I grabbed the road running north and west from town, towards Skamania County. It didn't take many clear-cut (clearcut? clear cut??) stops to find one with an Olive-sided Flycatcher (175). 175! This was a happy total for the year. 

I knew at this point that I was headed back towards Goldendale. But how to get there? In the end, the answer was Wahkiacus Heights Road. Zero regrets. This was one of those trips that I really needed. I didn't know what kind of habitat to expect, or what kind of roads. The answers: This road is largely lined with clear... with lots of places where they cut down all of the trees, along with second growth ponderosa pine and garry oak, scattered over rolling hills. It was plain, and it was pretty. 

Approaching Wahkiacus, the oaks became more frequent, and I started rolling down the windows, then started stopping. On the last little stretch of the road, there are some deep winding switchbacks lined with oak. This is where I got Ash-throated Flycatcher (176), and my first new state bird from Klickitat County, a Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher (177)!

Back up towards Goldendale - because I have a sense of humor, I made a stop at the Goldendale Sewage Lagoons. I pulled off of the road, stepped out of the car, closed my eyes, and *felt* the laughter of a hundred Blue-winged Teals, swimming around in the ponds and laughing at me from behind their protective gates. Shorebirds were likely gone at this point, but there was still a buzz circulating around the bars of this exclusive club. I opened my eyes, took one more look at the little pond outside of the Lagoons (Say's Phoebe, Killdeer, Mallard), and continued to Goldendale. 

BBQ, Bought a couple of mugs, Hotel. Sleep. 

My lunch destination was Bickleton. I'd secured a mug at the Market Street Cafe on an earlier trip. When asked about payment, I was told, "Just bring back two mugs." I don't think they expected this. I dropped them off at the front counter with an explanation, before dashing off to the bathroom. I could hear the gal behind the counter cracking up and explaining what had happened to the kitchen. Mission accomplished. 

I crossed the street to the Bluebird Inn. I had a great chat with the bartender, who had (as with so many people), left the county, and had returned. The hardest part, it seems was the sheer distance to big town. The Market Street Cafe had *some* provisions, but people really had to plan on getting snowed in at any point during the winter months. I had a great BLT and a pint of beer, and went to pay. . . 

"Oh, we don't take credit cards."

So there we go. I came to Bickleton to pay a debt, and still came out behind. They take your information and hold onto those unpaid tabs, calling people up once a month or so. My ticket noted, "I'd like to pay in person!" (spoilers - I did!)

Gray Partridge, Swainson's Hawk, and Sage Thrasher were my biggest hopes for the trip out of Bickleton. I went down familiar habitat along Sand Ridge Road, and bingo! A Sage Thrasher (178) hopped up and sang from a bit of sage for me. I was happily surprised by the activity, despite the time of day (roughly 1 or 2 at that point). Birds were still singing, including Sagebrush Sparrows, which I had already for the year, but are generally hard to find in the county. 

The biggest failure is one I may regret all the rest of my days. I saw a snake in the sage and did the best I could to make some mental notes on the length, color, behavior. . . and when I got home, I thought I'd seen a racer. In the process, I found that there were places to report observations of snakes as well. I added my observations to the mix and smiled at my contribution to citizen science. 

I got an email a day or two later that got a great conversation going back and forth about the snake. In the end, this was the response that got me: 

"Hi Tim,

 

Thanks for your response. I’m not sure what else it could be, I’m no snake expert either, but I’ve noticed we’ve been getting a lot of Rubber boa observations lately. Here is a link to the WDFW’s old herp atlas: https://wdfw.wa.gov/sites/default/files/publications/02135/wdfw02135.pdf

 

We’re working on updating this document and putting it into a more user-friendly format, but generally the identification information is still valid and useful.

 

It’s always fun to meet other wildlife enthusiasts!"

Rubber boa? Rubber boa??? I'd been talking with friends just days earlier about how I'd love to see a Rubber boa some time during my travels. I looked at the images of Rubber boas, as well as the range. And I had no definitive way to say what I had seen. That sucks. I honestly thought those suckers lived in slightly more treed locales. Ah well!!

Hale Road, in the same part of the county, had some reports for Swainson's Hawk at a pretty specific intersection. I drove the road to that intersection and scanned the farmland, eventually finding a Swainson's Hawk (179) perched on the only tall tree near a barn. 

All roads lead to the Columbia! I descended at Roosevelt, drove West to Rock Creek, and found a pretty nice bunch of new birds, including Eastern Kingbird (180), Yellow-breasted Chat (181), and Bank Swallow (182). An American White Pelican I'd seen back in May was still hanging around in the deep and wide water near the south end of Rock Creek. 

My next two stops were essentially non-birding stops. Maryhill Winery was a chance to get some food and wine, hop on some wifi, and do a little bit of work. I continued my "where ya from" interrogation of the entire county, finding more Klickitat County Yo-yos working at the winery. Being right along the Columbia, and a fairly large operation, the people working here were a little younger, and not necessarily people that were deep into careers in the wine business, but they were all friendly and happy to talk about the county. 

The wine was great! Semillon is one of my favorite white wine grapes, and one that isn't as easy to find as others (Sauv blanc, reisling, chardonnay, pinot grigio, etc). Theirs was delicious, as was the pizza. Overpriced. . . I mean, of course it was! But the view was amazing, and hey, I had wifi. There are worse places to work!

Next stop - the Stonehenge Memorial. I love this little place. It's not the same size as the original, but many of the same features are replicated. It was designed by Quaker Sam Hill as a war memorial. The day was beautiful, and my good old flip phone was enough this day to capture that. 

I started this with a note that I'd lost my father in June. He was 77. I lost my first son almost 20 years ago. Loss is hard, and I think this memorial provided a good bit of time to reflect. Dates of birth and death, side by side, served as an obvious reminder. Some of the young men memorialized here were equal in age to my son. It is good to remember those we have lost. It is good to love those we have here. 

One more stop before I left the county - Bingen Pond. I actually turned my focus on the sailboard launch on the east end of the park. Purple Martins (183) played and churped along the water's edge - a beautiful finish to the day. 

In memory of my father, Vincent Patrick Brennan, I leave you this: 

A child of salt and sacrifice was born

Gift to a proud brother.

The boy grew up in the sands, in the streets,

Skinny legs carrying him around the stickball bases,

Clever grin spread beneath his Pollack nose

A nose and a smile that won the heart

Of a fiery redhead girl.

Wedding bells and bassinets.

Growing family and heading west.

Adventure called and he answered.

Fruits and roots, trees and tomatoes

The young man learned to feed the world.

Forklifts and factories, warehouses and blueprints.

“If you put it. . . here,” the man explained,

“You can feed more people. Feed them for less.”

Pinochle and plackis, Manhattans and Merry Christmases.

The man danced with his redhead bride

On a floor filled with friends and family

Collies, kids, and chaos.

Open doors, love, and adventure. Always adventure.

The man had become a mountain,

Father of seven, they ran away from him like snow-melted rivers.

His slopes guided their early paths.

His greatest joy, and his greatest pain

Were these rivers running free

The giver, the lover, the healer, the writer, the teacher, the farmer, and the protector,

Away they ran from his slopes, away from him to carve valleys

Away to crash over dangerous cataracts, to feed lush meadows.

“If you work harder. If you love others more. If you do it like this,” the father explained,

“You can help more people. Use your gifts.”

The old man lay in the bed.

His hand held by the woman whose heart was his always.

Children one by one, coming to comfort his brow,

To see his wink again, to hear him say,

“Please… please use your gifts. And I love you. I love you so much.”

Miss you, Pops 

Timothy 9/19/2022