Back to the Eastside

Joe Meche is 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.

In June, I reported on a somewhat brief visit to the arid landscape of southeastern Washington. The sharp contrast to the northwest corner often comes as a bit of a shock, but at the same time provides all the perspective I need about the area that I’ve chosen to call home. It’s often so wet on the west side that some are heard to complain.

However, it’s important that we not take for granted the good rain that keeps our pastures green, as opposed to brown. In the dry shrub-steppe environment of the Evergreen State’s lower right-hand corner, it is the proximity to a reliable supply of water from the Columbia and Snake Rivers and the marvels of modern irrigation techniques that enable that remote area to survive.

As our annual mid-May getaway approached, the temptation was great to return to the Othello area to observe and possibly photograph burrowing owlets. On the other hand, knowing that summer comes early to that part of the state, we had second thoughts. There was nothing appealing about the prospect of heat, not to mention the extra driving time and the exorbitant cost of gasoline.

We considered those primary points and decided to move our center of operations farther north by northwest. We focused our attention on an area closer to home and the cooler eastern slope of the Cascades and settled in for four peaceful days of tent camping, hiking and birding at Alta Lake State Park.

This 181-acre state park can be a hub of chaotic activity from Memorial Day to the Labor Day weekend. With this in mind, a visit before the rush begins is a must. Alta Lake serves as a perfect starting point for short day trips to the wetland areas at the mouth the Okanogan River, which flows into the Columbia upstream of the towns of Brewster and Pateros. Aside from the always-appealing idea of a road trip, the luxury of a base camp with hot showers at the end of the day is equally attractive. The main appeal in spring, however, is the variety of birds that can be found in and around the park.

Throughout the chilly nights and long, sunny days, we were blessed with a steady breeze, which created an idyllic situation for deep, restful sleep and good birding throughout the day. The occasional, random gust of wind shook clouds of pollen from the large Ponderosa pines, which are common throughout the park. Most items left in the open during the day sported a dusting of the fine, pale yellow pollen.

On our first day, we arrived early enough to take an exploratory hike before setting up camp and preparing dinner. The distinctive calls of Chicago, Chicago, Chicago left no doubt that the park was still home to a large contingent of California quail. Their calls resonated from the surrounding hillsides and all along the lakefront. Quail often produce a significant amount of humor with their fast-paced style of walking away from danger, whether the threat is actual or merely implied. When they choose to fly, it’s usually in a direct flight from point to point. In flight, they always remind me of a football with wings.

One of the birds that I anticipated the most at Alta Lake began calling just as darkness fell on our first evening. The distinctive call of the common poorwill usually starts sometime after dusk and is especially noted on sagebrush- and chaparral-covered slopes. The poorwill is the smallest of the nightjars that are found in North America. Its close cousins are the chuck-will’s-widow and the popular whip-poor-will of the eastern U.S. Poorwills have been known to hibernate in cold weather and are very difficult to locate during the day.

As we slipped into our cozy sleeping bag, the poorwill chorus provided a little nighttime music. Sometime during the night, I was awakened by the back and forth calling of at least a half dozen great horned owls, which were spread around the campground. Between the poorwills and the owls, it was pretty noisy out there. And then the coyotes started yipping down valley!

At first light, the night chorus slowly faded and gave way to the day shift of robins, black-headed grosbeaks, Cassin’s finches, Bullock’s orioles, mountain chickadees and of course, the ubiquitous California quail. No matter where you are, there’s a special feeling that greets you as you exit a tent on a beautiful spring morning. It’s simply a matter of heeding nature’s call while all around you — nature is calling.

The days and nights at the lake campground followed a loose regimen of hiking and birding along the lake shore and up the trail to the ridge above the lake. The ridge rises 1,000 feet in numerous switchbacks and our efforts were rewarded with spectacular views up the Columbia River. From the ridge you can see the miracle of water in the hillsides that are covered with orchards and vineyards — all dependent on the river for their lifeblood. Where the orchards end, the brown landscape prevails.

After two full days within walking distance of our campsite, we took a loop drive to the confluence of the rivers and upstream to the town of Bridgeport. In the Well’s Wildlife Area, we enjoyed good views of nesting ospreys, Bullock’s orioles and yellow-headed blackbirds. In the backwater sloughs below the site of old Fort Okanogan, nesting waterfowl with young in tow were numerous.

Back in the campground, we found nourishment for ourselves before walking the trail above the lakeshore. Nesting house wrens were vocalizing outside a couple of interesting nesting sites. One in particular intrigued me with its choice of sites in the open end of a metal gate rail. Farther up the trail we found several singing canyon wrens on a talus slope above the lake. Canyon wrens produce one of the most beautiful birdsongs you will hear.

Between the main highway and the campground, we located a nesting colony of bank swallows, with as many as 100 nesting burrows. The activity was at a peak when we were there and I lamented the fact that I had chosen to leave the video camera at home. In retrospect, it seems that I always see better birds when I have no camera. Does that seem fair?

At our campsite, rufous, black-chinned, and calliope hummingbirds visited on a regular basis, apparently attracted by anything red. I made a note to take along hummingbird feeders on future trips. As we sat quietly around the campsite, mountain chickadees flitted about above our heads and pairs of California quail strolled through, albeit tentatively. It was a relaxing final day at Alta.

We had two nights remaining on our weekend so we decided to pull up stakes and head for higher country. We left after breakfast and searched for old favorite spots in the Methow Wildlife Area and up the Chewuch River, to no avail. We continued west on Highway 20 and ended our search at the very same campsite we enjoyed 12 years earlier at the Ballard Campground. This campground is tucked away up the road from the community of Mazama and sits on the West Fork of the Methow River.

Much to our delight, the river was running high and noisy with spring runoff. The night air was colder at higher elevation and the river provided night music to drift off into deep REM sleep.

A planned day hike to the Hart’s Pass area ended at the site of a dramatic rockslide that has closed the road for quite some time. The area around the pass is notable as one of the better places in the state to view migrating raptors in the fall. A fire a few years ago thwarted our attempts to spend time there but as the area recovers and rockslides are cleared, Hart’s Pass will be accessible once again. The report from the forest service is that the slide should be removed by mid-August so perhaps a raptor-watch trip is a possibility.

On the last evening in the cool campground area, we witnessed a mini-fallout of warblers, including Nashville, MacGillivray’s and numerous yellow-rumps. Several Vaux’s swifts and a few black swifts performed their spectacular aerobatics above the river at dusk. No owls, poorwills, or anything else could be heard above the river music. Darkness fell on a couple of happy campers as a full moon rose above the valley.

We left after breakfast and found one more trip highlight in a pair of harlequin ducks cavorting in an eddy near Mazama. As we crested Washington Pass on the way home, deep snow still lingered and once again, the sharp contrast from east to west was evident. It’s always refreshing to return to the cooler west side of the mountains, but memories of good birds and deep-sleep nights will always encourage another visit to the dry side. It should begin to cool down by mid-September. §