Hey tweets, as many of you know, I have been teaching a class for Intermediate Birders for Seattle Audubon for the past two years. It is a field-trip oriented class, so we try to spend as much time in the field as we can.

It occurred to me that our most recent field trip - an overnight visit to the Ellensburg area - qualified as an adventure in my Year of Adventure, both because it was a wonderful exploration of central Washington habitat, and also because it was an experience of shared delight with like-minded people. For many extreme adventurers, going off into the wild is a solo experience designed to test an individual's limits and perhaps learn more about one's true self. But for me, adventure is best when experienced in company with others. That's definitely what I liked best about our class field trips, sharing magical moments with people who felt the same way as I do about birds.

So I thought you might enjoy the trip report I wrote after our Ellensburg overnight on August 9-12:

Dear fellow birders, I often find that I renew my spirits in nature. It is the birds who lift me up when my own species brings me low at times. Such was indeed the case on our recent field trip to Ellensburg. At our first stop on Friday at Snoqualmie, we failed to realize that the property around the ski lift had been sold to a private developer last year and has gradually become taboo for birders. Our first inkling of this development came when a youngish, angry man accosted us as we walked the loop road we have walked many times before, looking for thrushes (found a Swainson's), Rufous Hummingbirds (numerous, as expected), forest birds, and migrants (such as Orange-crowned Warbler). He told us we were on a private road and must exit, which we did, but not as immediately as he wished. It was a distressing encounter and a poor way to start an overnight trip meant to enchant us all, but we shook it off and headed to another favored spot, Stampede Pass.

There, amid the forest, rushing river, and friendly passers-by, we heard many Western Wood-Pewees singing their question-and-answer song, a trill that first goes up and then comes down the scale. These tiny birds come here in spring from the far south, spread themselves throughout the state, build their nests, raise the young, and depart in early fall, living lives we glimpse but can never really know. They share only a small part of themselves with us, and yet it is enough to soothe the spirit and lift up the heart.

Also in the bushes, we found a male MacGillivray's Warbler working himself to a frazzle trying to feed a gigantic, young Brown-headed Cowbird. We had all read about this phenomenon but had rarely seen it. Like many observations in nature, it reminded us that nature is what it is, not loving, not sentient, not sweet, but also not cruel. These meanings are all supplied by us, as we tell the stories of nature in our own human context, a power no other animal on Earth shares. For me, these tales I create from nature lead me to a better understanding of my own species and give me the ability to expand in kindness and understanding as I appreciate beauty in all its forms, even forms that appear can seem ugly. Nature inspires glory, for me.

A less ambiguous example of how beauty can bring soul-moving joy was granted to us when we arrived in Cle Elum. The Railroad Ponds were laden with Yellow Warblers and more Gray Catbirds than I had seen in one place before. But the really spectacular site was the Ranger Station in town, where a giant mixed flock of nuthatches and chickadees were foraging in the tall conifers. Red-breasted Nuthatches were yank-yanking everywhere, accompanied by the fluting songs of White-breasted, and the twitter-notes of Pygmies. Mountain Chickadees hung from the branches, and in one tree, a family of Pygmy Nuthatches went in an out of their nest hole. We all got nuthatch-neck except for one student, who had the bright notion to just stretch out on the grass and gaze upward while he watched the show. Like any great performance, the singers had us all smiling ear to ear by the end.

In Ellensburg at last, we wondered what to do while we waited for full dark and our poorwill hunt. Rather than go out to dinner, as past groups had done, we decided to grab some fast food, eat on the road, and explore Old Brick Mill Road near Ellensburg. This is a known site for Swainson's Hawks, and sure enough, the first hawks we saw were two juvenile Swainson's, each perched on a telephone pole at the junction of No. 81 Road and Old Vantage Highway. Their faces were faintly Peregrine-marked, their fronts dotted with a brown so soft it looked like living velvet. At one point, one spread her wings and we could see the dark trailing half of the wing linings, a diagnostic field mark most beautiful.

The two siblings were only a foretaste of what was to come. As we proceeded north on No. 81, raptors began showing up in such huge numbers, we lost count: Swainson's juveniles, adults, dark morphs, light morphs, perching, soaring, hunting, eating prey, and arguing with harriers and Red-tails while more than 50 Common Ravens held a convention in a nearby field. Down the road a piece, John slammed on the brakes after he spotted an owl in the framed hayloft window of an old barn. I flew out the door before the car had even stopped fully - one students said she never saw me move so fast. I think I must have teleported.

As dusk began to fall, we headed toward Reecer Canyon, where we found so many passerines we couldn't even tell each other where to look. Every bush was too full of birds: Western Wood-Pewees, Black-headed Grosbeaks, Western Tanagers, Cassin's Finches, kingbirds, and Warbling Vireos. A lone Veery was heard singing his lovely song as the sun sank behind the hills. Then I heard wild hooting from birders farther up the road from me: two Common Nighthawks had come out of nowhere to whiz overhead, their white wing-stripes alight in the soft evening. A third nighthawk was later found perched and torpid, a rare sight in such dense growth. We never did see our target poorwills, but after such a magical day, no one could feel disappointed.

The next morning, we headed over to Ringer Loop Road and Umptanum Campground to look for passerines and especially Yellow-breasted Chats. The night had brought thunderstorms and heavy showers, a rare event in August in eastern Washington. The air was fresh, the temperature moderate, the birds cooperative. At Ringer Loop, we found Western Tanagers in full breeding plumage, a beautiful Pileated Woodpecker, numerous singing Yellow Warblers and Orange-crowned, a Spotted Sandpiper, and (at the second half of the loop), Townsend's Warbler, Black-throated Gray, and more singing pewees.

Our last stop was Umptanum Campground, where John led the intermediates over the footbridge and up the trail to look for Yellow-breasted Chats. Sure enough, just on the far side of the bridge, a chat was chatting, teasing everyone by being so close and yet so hidden. Many birders got glimpses but most only heard this frustrating bird. After everyone had disappeared up the trail, the chat decided to give me a thrill and flew to my side of the river, where I was sitting on my campstool waiting for developments to occur. It arrived just about the same time a Peregrine came soaring around the mountain, passed overhead, and then disappeared again, while kettles of Turkey Vultures floated overhead. Meanwhile, as I enjoyed these wonderful birds at leisure (including one Townsend's Solitaire that foraged in a bush a few feet away), John and one of the students trudged farther than anyone else and were rewarded with a kestrel nest. John was glassing the cliffs, noting how one lumpy rock after another looked like a bird but of course was not, when one of the rocks turned and looked at him. It was an American Kestrel. Soon others appeared from the cliff face to the delight of our two intrepid hikers. Which only goes to show that sometimes hard effort pays off, but sometimes sitting lazily in the parking lot can also be good.

Thus ended the first half of our field trip. While we were sitting in a local restaurant, gloating over our finds and eating lunch, our second group of students had gathered in Seattle and car-pooled to join us. They had their own adventures on their way from Seattle. At Hyack they stopped at the sewage ponds and were rewarded with a Ring-necked Duck (up in the mountains, no less!) and some migrating Least Sandpipers. These do come through the mountains during migration, always a surprise to me to see them away from beaches.

At the Railroad Ponds, the Saturday/Sunday group scored again, with a Red-eyed Vireo, the only one of the trip. They then drove up Highway 10, a known spot for dippers. They didn't see any dippers but a flock of Wild Turkeys was a big thrill, consisting of adults and young.

John and I said goodbye to the Friday/Saturday birders and then hooked up with our three SaturdaySunday students in Ellensburg, where we eyed the weather with some misgivings. The wind was howling and storm clouds had formed over the canyons. We headed out in the evening anyway, Reecer Canyon, my favorite spot for poorwills, was bereft of birds, as the wind picked up even more and the rain started. We decided to pack it in, but on the way back to town, we passed a farmer's pond that was simply stuffed with Common Nighthawks. They were fluttering over the pond catching insects, sometimes soaring high above the waters and sometimes skimming near the surface. What a chance to study their flight!

The next morning, the wind was still howling, but we decided to stop by No. 81 Road to check on the raptors anyway. Numbers were low, due to the deteriorating weather, but we did manage to see several Swainson's and Red-tails, along with the raven convention, which was still in session. Then we headed north to Vantage, where we hoped to see swifts and other delights at Frenchman's Coulee. Again, the weather made our visit challenging, and in the end, we saw very little. But the little was small only by one definition: mere numbers. In terms of wonder, the definiton was off the scale. Our youngest birder spotted a bird on the Old Vantage Highway, yelled to the driver to stop the car, and proceeded to identify her lifer Sage Thrasher. As they watched this beautiful bird flit around the sage, a Sagebrush Sparrow popped up out of nowhere. I think they must have just materialized it out of some black hole or other. John and I, trailing far behind, saw neither bird, but I guess we lack both eagle eyes and conjuring magic.

No matter. By then, we were filled to the brim by a trip that produced astounding obsevations, delightful companions, and memories that will last a lifetime. That is the best magic of all.

Here is a list of all the birds we saw:

Canada Goose
Mallard
Ring-necked Duck
Common Goldeneye
Common Merganser
California Quail
Wild Turkey
Pied-billed Grebe
Rock Pigeon
Band-tailed Pigeon
Mourning Dove
Eurasian Collared-Dove
Common Nighthawk
Vaux's Swift
Rufous Hummingbird
Killdeer
Least Sandpiper
Spotted Sandpiper
Ring-billed Gull
California Gull
Caspian Tern
Great Blue Heron
Turkey Vulture
Bald Eagle
Osprey
Northern Harrier
Red-tailed Hawk
Swainson's Hawk
Cooper's Hawk
Great Horned Owl
Belted Kingfisher
Downy Woodpecker
Northern Flicker
Pileated Woodpecker
Peregrine Falcon
Prairie Falcon
American Kestrel
Olive-sided Flycatcher
Western Wood-Pewee
Willow Flycatcher
Eastern Kingbird
Western Kingbird
Gray Catbird
Say's Phoebe
Warbling Vireo
Red-eyed Vireo
Steller's Jay
American Crow
Common Raven
Black-billed Magpie
Tree Swallow
Violet-green Swallow
Barn Swallow
Northern Rough-winged Swallow
Black-capped Chickadee
Chestnut-sided Chickadee
Mountain Chickadee
Bushtit
Red-breasted Nuthatch
White-breasted Nuthatch
Pygmy Nuthatch
Townsend's Solitaire
Swainson's Thrush
Veery
American Robin
Sage Thrasher
European Starling
Cedar Waxwing
House Sparrow
Cassin's Finch
House Finch
American Goldfinch
Pine Siskin
Black-headed Grosbeak
Yellow Warbler
Yellow-rumped Warbler
Townsend's Warbler
Black-throated Gray Warbler
Orange-crowned Warbler
MacGillivray's Warbler
Yellow-breasted Chat
Song Sparrow
White-crowned Sparrow
Sagebrush Sparrow
Dark-eyed Junco
Western Tanager
Lazuli Bunting
Western Meadowlark
Red-winged Blackbird
Brewer's Blackbird
Brown-headed Cowbird

- Connie