The Columbia National Wildlife Refuge is an important stopover for many migrating birds, including Sandhill Crane. I missed the Crane stopover for this year, but did manage to catch a few other temporary residents, including the American Bittern. I’d never heard a bittern before this week, and so I was not actually aware of what I was hearing until I inquired at the refuge headquarters. To put it simply, Bitterns sound like great, giant drops of water followed by a loud swallowing-gulp.

Traveling into the refuge, I came upon a Cliff Swallow rookery. Thousands of swallows, darting in and out of the cliff, hanging in hundreds or thousands of nests. Their numbers were so great that the presence of two Red-tailed Hawks wasn’t something to be afraid of. Every time one would swoop close, the nests would empty and a great cloud of swallows would pester the hawk until it left.

Near the main entrance I found a marsh that is popular with Yellow-Headed Blackbirds. Raucous cousins of Redwing Blackbirds, these birds sound like they should live in a jungle. The males sit on exposed reeds or tree limbs and make great clock-wise swings with their heads and wings, letting out a long “marooooooow” call that sounds like a horribly frightened house-cat. Meanwhile, the females stay out-of-sight in the reeds with the young, but they create such a loud chatter it’s difficult to refer to them as “hidden”. Also abundantly present in this recording are mourning doves. One of the great birding tragedies of Seattle is that it lies west of the Cascade Mountains, a range the Mourning Dove has historically avoided crossing despite being resident in nearly every other part of North America.

The second trip of this project was to the Columbia Wildlife Refuge from June 9-12. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was certainly not prepared for the stunning natural beauty of this location. Located in the the Channeled Scablands of the Northwest, the land around this area was carved out dramatically and violently during a series of ice age deluges. The Cordilleran Ice Sheet dammed up the Glacial Lake Missoula, which periodically broke free and scoured the land here free of soil and most life. Giant pot-hole-like formations called coulees show testimony to the power of the drainage, and to this day provide quiet refuge to animals such as birds, rabbits, and coyotes, as well as providing a rainwater collection point for marshy reeds to grow.

I arrived early in the morning of the 12th of May and set up near a still-water riparian area. This being the Cascade Mountains range, there was plenty of distant water wash everywhere, from small rivers and streams to snowmelt runoff. I managed to find a nice quiet area to set up, though, and spent the next 24 hours there. The non-riparian portion of the forest here was filled with typical Cascades’ evergreens such as Douglas Fir, Spruce, and the like. Near the water there was a greater abundance of Cottonwoods and other more deciduous trees.

These forests are filled with woodpeckers, thrushes, Pacific Wrens, and more. Speaking of thrushes, this is an area where you just can’t get away from American Robins during the morning and evening. Mid-day they tend to be quiet, probably foraging or resting form the hot sun. Mornings and evenings, however, the world is their stage. Their evening call is slightly faster, as if they’re ready for bed and can’t wait for their shift to end.

Later in the day I moseyed on back into the Mt Adams Wilderness. There had been a late snow, and roads were still closed going up into the mountain, so I had to stay at lower altitudes. Still, I found a quiet place to spend the afternoon and night. Early on the forest floor was thick with flies. This is fairly common, if sometimes annoying. Without taking careful notes it can often be difficult listening later, trying to suss out if a sound is from buzzing insects or distant chainsaws. Fortunately, this is not currently a logging area, so chainsaws were fairly easy to rule out. Later in the day and most of the night there was some fairly heavy rain, with minor flash floods in nearby campsites. I was safe, but I had a brief worry as to whether or not I’d be able to leave in the morning. Fortunately the road out drained fast and I was left just testing the mud-worthiness of my vehicle.

I arrived early in the morning of the 12th of May and set up near a still-water riparian area. This being the Cascade Mountains range, there was plenty of distant water wash everywhere, from small rivers and streams to snowmelt runoff. I managed to find a nice quiet area to set up, though, and spent the next 24 hours there. The non-riparian portion of the forest here was filled with typical Cascades’ evergreens such as Douglas Fir, Spruce, and the like. Near the water there was a greater abundance of Cottonwoods and other more deciduous trees.

These forests are filled with woodpeckers, thrushes, Pacific Wrens, and more. Speaking of thrushes, this is an area where you just can’t get away from American Robins during the morning and evening. Mid-day they tend to be quiet, probably foraging or resting form the hot sun. Mornings and evenings, however, the world is their stage. Their evening call is slightly faster, as if they’re ready for bed and can’t wait for their shift to end.

I arrived early in the morning of the 12th of May and set up near a still-water riparian area. This being the Cascade Mountains range, there was plenty of distant water wash everywhere, from small rivers and streams to snowmelt runoff. I managed to find a nice quiet area to set up, though, and spent the next 24 hours there. The non-riparian portion of the forest here was filled with typical Cascades’ evergreens such as Douglas Fir, Spruce, and the like. Near the water there was a greater abundance of Cottonwoods and other more deciduous trees.

These forests are filled with woodpeckers, thrushes, Pacific Wrens, and more. Speaking of thrushes, this is an area where you just can’t get away from American Robins during the morning and evening. Mid-day they tend to be quiet, probably foraging or resting form the hot sun. Mornings and evenings, however, the world is their stage. Their evening call is slightly faster, as if they’re ready for bed and can’t wait for their shift to end.

I arrived early in the morning of the 12th of May and set up near a still-water riparian area. This being the Cascade Mountains range, there was plenty of distant water wash everywhere, from small rivers and streams to snowmelt runoff. I managed to find a nice quiet area to set up, though, and spent the next 24 hours there. The non-riparian portion of the forest here was filled with typical Cascades’ evergreens such as Douglas Fir, Spruce, and the like. Near the water there was a greater abundance of Cottonwoods and other more deciduous trees.

These forests are filled with woodpeckers, thrushes, Pacific Wrens, and more. Speaking of thrushes, this is an area where you just can’t get away from American Robins during the morning and evening. Mid-day they tend to be quiet, probably foraging or resting form the hot sun. Mornings and evenings, however, the world is their stage. Their evening call is slightly faster, as if they’re ready for bed and can’t wait for their shift to end.

Conboy Lake is not a true year-round lake, but a dense marshy area that fills with snowmelt from the end of winter throughout the spring, forming a temporary lake that slows drains off throughout the long summer. It’s an important stopover for migratory birds such as Sandhill Crane, but also provides a year-round sanctuary for all manner of creatures, great and small. From typical Pacific Northwest songbirds such as Marsh Wren and Redwing Blackbirds, to Meadow Larks and Tree Swallows, to year-round populations of elk and mule deer, to coyotes, to bobcats and mountain lions, this is a place that has life all year round.

I spent the day driving around the area, looking for an ideal spot to record. As rural and quiet as it is, this can still be a difficult thing to do. Small sounds carry long distances in quiet places. Loud sounds carry still farther. Any car within a couple miles was audible through the microphones, so even when a location LOOKED perfect, it was still problematic.

My favorite recording came at dusk on this day. I found a secluded back-road through the refuge and set up on the border of a closed-off sanctuary marsh. The evening started with blackbirds and wrens, but those quickly faded away while the the insects, frogs, and snipe came out. Oh, those snipe. I had no idea what they were at first and needed a naturalist friend to identify them for me. This evening setting is a recording I can listen to over and over.