My Birding World

“Well that’s the last time I let you book a hotel.”

I uttered these words to my husband as I carefully controlled my horror and panic as we arrived at our destination in Summer Lake, Oregon. It was pitch black out when we rolled off the lonely highway in the high desert and clumsily walked around the grounds in search of our cabin. This was Day 2 of my first-ever road trip, and we were exhausted after having driven from Crescent City, CA to Crater Lake and eventually to Summer Lake several hours east.

I did not notice that we were inches away from blindly stepping into a small lake nor did I realize how many birds we would see once the sun popped out the following morning. Instead, I could only make out the porch light beaming brightly with the thousands of bugs attracted to that little beacon of glory. We opened the door and all those bugs, and mosquitoes, invited themselves into our room. We would have to open the door two more times: to retrieve our bags and return to our room. It was in that moment of realization that I said those calculated words to my poor, tired husband and weighed the pros and cons of sleeping in the insect-free car for the night. Instead, I chose to use the fly swatter on the wall and whack the dudes out of existence for the next hour. I slept with my jacket strategically wrapped around my head forming a small hole to breathe through. I woke up bite-free; my husband, refusing to follow my new fashion statement, did not share the same bite-free fate.

I woke up early the next morning unusually rested. I could hear the chatter of calls and melodic tunes coming from outside and I couldn’t stay put. Soundlessly I left the cabin and slipped outdoors to greet the birds. I watched California Quail running around, I was dive-bombed multiple times by an aggressive Tree Swallow, and I carefully scanned the Red-winged Blackbirds for signs of a Tricolored Blackbird. I relaxed at the pond near the cabin and was thankful that we didn’t fall into it the night before.

After nearly an hour of enjoying the calm and cool morning, I heard it – our target bird. I didn’t know what to do, wake my husband and face the consequences of a coffee-less morning, or hope the birds stick around. I quietly reentered the cabin and he stirred. I quietly said his name and received a grunt in response. So I pushed it, “Trumpeter Swans!!” Out of bed, throw on fresh clothes, out of there in a flash. It was a good thing I woke him because the swans disappeared not too long after that.

All and all, this was a worthwhile stop. The nearby auto tour produced lifers, including Yellow-headed Blackbirds and Franklin Gulls. I would recommend coming here at least once for the birds; just be sure to arrive in the day or turn off your porch light.