Birding in the Southeastern Corner

Joe Meche is vice president of the North Cascades Audubon Society and also serves the chapter as newsletter editor and Birding Programs Coordinator. He has been watching birds for over 50 years and  photographing birds and landscapes for more than 30 years.

As we all know, winter birding in western Washington can be quite exhilarating, albeit an exercise in perseverance. The birds are always here but we have to be patient with the unpredictable whims of weather. Wind and rain as well as wind-driven rain can put a literal damper on any outing. We want to be out there looking at birds so we always prepare accordingly. Good raingear and waterproof binoculars are a must.

We always have more than a few good days between October and April, but I find that I spend more time every year thinking about our annual spring trip to the east side of the mountains. The attraction is the lower relative humidity and warmer temperatures, not to mention the different birds. Mid-May is usually the time we plan our trip — to beat the Memorial Day crowds and before it gets too hot. This year, however, I was treated to a preview.

I traveled to the fabled Tri-cities in mid-April to attend the three-day Audubon Council of Washington. There was work to be done at the conference and a good half-day drive going to Pasco and coming home. But I was never one to pass up an opportunity to explore and discover new places, especially with a few of the eastside birds as the connecting thread. Mid-April is usually the time of year when many migrations are well underway and this trip proved to be no exception.

As usual, when I left the wetter west side of the mountains and headed east, I expected the weather to be warmer than it turned out to be. The chilly rain apparently followed the “westsiders” who attended the conference, or at least that was the allegation. A much anticipated Saturday morning field trip to Bateman Island was a soaking experience. It was just another opportunity to break out the raingear and waterproof binoculars.

Bateman Island sits at the confluence of the Yakima and Columbia Rivers and its 160 acres is a potpourri of habitat types that typically host a wide variety of birds. My hotel was just a block away from the pedestrian-only causeway access so I was able to start early. Before the rest of the group arrived I observed Caspian terns, white pelicans, golden- and white-crowned sparrows, yellow-rumped warblers, the omnipresent ring-billed gulls and one eared grebe in all its breeding finery.

We walked the loop trail around the entire island in a steady rain and agreed that it was still a little early and maybe even too wet for most of the smaller birds. We did flush California quail and a few American wigeons, but the highlight of the walk occurred when we were about as soaked as could be. As we approached a wetland in the middle of the island, a pair of black-crowned night herons burst into the air and circled just overhead, calling back and forth the whole time. Great sightings tend to make you forget how wet you really are.

Of all the birds that were possible on this trip, my primary targets were the burrowing owls that are fairly common in eastern Washington, especially around Othello. Before I left home, I made contact with a friend who lives and works in the area and also knows where the burrows are. After the conference ended, I headed north to set up a new base in Othello. I spent most of the afternoon following his directions and even though I found more burrows than birds, I did observe eight of these unique owls. Most of them kept their distance, but one pair that I located proved to be extremely accommodating.

With an ever-so-slight bit of stealth, I was able to set up no more than 15 feet away from the entrance to the burrow and was even tolerated by the inhabitants. There’s still much benefit to sitting quietly and waiting, but the afternoon sun was behind the birds so I made a pledge to return early the next day. I could only hope that the owls would be as cooperative. If the weather cooperated as well, I would have the early sun at my back

With breakfast and a mug of steaming coffee in hand, I returned to the burrow the following morning and found the male waiting just outside the burrow entrance, practicing the familiar one-legged stand. After two and a half hours of communing with the male, I vowed to leave in 30 minutes if nothing else happened. The male barely moved the entire time and the photo opportunities became redundant, to say the least.

Just a minute away from the appointed departure time, I noticed the top of another head slowly emerging from the burrow. Then I saw a pair of bright yellow eyes. Before long, the bird that I assumed was the female came racing out of the burrow and began communicating with the male. After a frenzy of mutual preening, the female flew across the road to perch on a fence post and assess the day. My guess is that she had been in the burrow sitting on eggs and needed a break to stretch her wings and get a taste of fresh air.

She soon flew back to exchange a few words with her mate. After posing for me for a while, she returned to her duties inside the burrow. This was the first time I’ve been able to spend time up close and personal with these interesting birds, and I came away with yet more appreciation for the diversity in nature. Owls nesting underground — what a special treat! Now, it was time for me to move on.

During the time I spent on my burrow vigil, several flights of sandhill cranes came winging in to the cornfields just beyond the burrow. I had great views and certainly enjoyed the morning music they provided as they came in. The numbers of migrating sandhill cranes have dropped to just a few thousand remaining birds, but they are still impressive in their flyovers. Their distinctive calls can be heard long before you’re able to see them overhead. And their graceful descents are a true marvel. These large birds seem to float to Earth as they settle in to a field of corn stubble. They continued vocalizing and foraging as I drove away.

I pushed westward from Othello by way of the back roads of the Columbia National Wildlife Refuge. The shallow ponds of the refuge were already abuzz with a few nesting birds and their unique calls alerted me to a small gathering of yellow-headed blackbirds. A lone great egret stood out among the blackbirds and assorted waterfowl.

On the southern boundary of the refuge, the road along Lower Crab Creek provided the perfect end to the long weekend with several good sightings. On the basalt cliffs which pressed in on the road in places, I observed a nesting pair of prairie falcons and numerous cliff swallows. A loggerhead shrike streaked across the road while I observed two American avocets at rest in a small pond.

My weekend getaway was too short and I was able to sample only a small slice of the southeastern corner of the state, but it was a good trip. As you explore new areas for birds and anything else that might interest you, you’ll usually find yourself wanting more. With gas prices on the rise, however, longer trips will more than likely become a greater luxury than ever.

From the Canadian border to the Oregon and Idaho state lines, eastern Washington has a lot to offer and mile after mile of open country. The southeastern corner is vast and the potential for good east-side birds is unlimited. If for no other reason than just to escape the day-to-day crowds that are more common on the west side, you’ll be in luck. And you’re sure to find a few good birds along the way. §