Mt. Bachelor, Tumalo Mountain, the Three Sisters, and the rest of the Cascades crew stare at me. I stare back at them from miles away, in awe, like every time I see them. It’s mid-spring, and they are still wearing predominantly white, but some areas of gray are starting to show after the sun has been working hard in the last couple of weeks. Soon, the proportions will switch, and we will need to wait for a few months until the snow claims victory, once again.
Between me and the mountains, a dry pond seems not to care about anything, contrary to the one beside where I am standing. That second one has fertile waters full of ducks and other birds, and wetlands where, five minutes ago, Ònix was splashing around. For a moment, I feared he would sink, as he is not accustomed to muddy waters. He didn’t, but now he is all wet and stinks badly. I wonder if the water he was so happily drinking will give his stomach a bad time. Probably not.
Birds. Thousands of them. If you are not very educated about them, anything that flies and is not an insect will be a bird to you. Sad to me because I’m seeing a beautiful bird (again, I can’t get more specific). Luckily, I have the help of a phone app that identifies birds by their songs and tells you what they are, so I am looking at a yellow-headed blackbird. A stunning creature; I feel so fortunate to be here.
I keep walking while a plane turns and heads to the airport, very close to Hatfield. In the same direction, a car leaves the police shooting range. I didn’t hear a shot the entire time I was here, so I wonder for a second what agents may do in this place when they are not practicing shooting. Then I forget about it and keep walking, enjoying the simplicity of being here with no one else around other than the dog and thousands of birds.
