Thursday morning I conducted the Breeding Bird Survey for the US Fish &
Wildlife Service along a 25 mile route in the Cascade Mountains near
Index, WA. a little over an hour from where I live. Didn't see any
unusual birds but the whole experience was such a treat to the senses it
was better than the eleven life-bird day I experienced at Wenas Creek a
few weeks ago. Posting this is a sort of follow-up to the invitation I
extended to join me on some birding outings, this is what you missed.

At 4:30am the impending dawn had put a glow in the sky, the crescent moon
faded to a ghost of it's earlier brilliance, the surrounding trees and
mountains black silhouettes against blue-grey sky. Morning fog was
closing over the sky, the cold mist formed tiny drops on my beard, the
chill cut into me and made me shiver. I purposely left my jacket on the
seat of the truck, not wanting anything to dull the experience of this
morning.

A hundred yards behind me the Skykomish River hissed over it's rocky bed.
Then musical notes drifted in with the roar of the river, a Dipper, then
from further downstream an answer. The first birds of the day.

Back in the truck and down the road to the next stop. Even before I
stopped I could hear the rambling melody of the Winter Wren cutting
through the closed door and engine noise. Stepping out of the truck I
heard the toy whistle note of the Varied Thrush, long and steady followed
by another lower pitched tone. Listening awhile the ascending warble of the
Swainson's thrush blasted out of the brush no more than fifty feet from
me.

These same sounds greated me at most of the rest of the fifty stops on
the route. Sometimes the twitter and scolding of the Chickadees greeted me
when I stepped out of the truck, one time the chant of a Dark-eyed Junco
accosted me and from thirty feet I stood and watched him tip his head up and
saw his throat flutter as he blasted his call into the mountain air.

Once, high over head a Vaux's Swift soared back and forth over the gap in
the trees. A Rufous Hummingbird swooped in and searched my tail-light
lens for nectar. A flash of blue as a Stellar's Jay left the scene.

Eventually the spell was broken, the routine interrupted by the arrival at
of the town of Index, the highway and completing the last five miles of
the route on the other side of the highway amongst the road repair crews
and the dust from the logging trucks. Such distractions did not seem to
deter our feathered friends.

I'm going back soon. This time without the restriction of the three
minute observations and the rush to complete the survey. Maybe I'll pitch
a tent to fall asleep and awaken to the sounds of the forest. Care to
join me?

Ted Becker tbecker at eskimo.com