March 23rd - South Pacific

Not *that* South Pacific

Snag Lake

Those words, South Pacific, should elicit images of warm beaches, light breezes, and the like. Comfort! My night camping at Snag Lake in the South end of Pacific County was not all that comfortable, if I may be frank. I felt well prepared… with what I thought was a good sleeping pad, and a mummy-style sleeping bag. But there were a few persistent rocks… pebbles…. I’m sure there’s a distinct size where even geologists would have a robust argument about nomenclature. But these rocks were evident, even through the pad.

And the mummy bag was wonderful! By this I mean it kept me warm enough. It did its job here. But man… at 54, I’ve grown accustomed to having my shoulders lying at an angle that they just weren’t free to do, snugged up as I was. And the camping pillow was just thin enough to add to my challenges. With a larger pillow, there are ways to take pressure off of the shoulders, and… long story short (too late!), it was an evening of discomfort a la rotisserie.

Skunk Cabbage in a little vernal pond. 
There was also a beaver in this pond, sadly not alive

I would find a position that was not the most uncomfortable, bear with it long enough, and then shift. Rinse, lather, and repeat through the night. And why? Why was I here? Owls. I had hopes that in the middle of the night, I might hear a Western Screech-Owl to add to my year list for Pacific County. I’d added 9 more species to that list the previous day, and the last one (number 125, for those keeping score at home), had been Barred Owl.

Two of them, in fact, which led me to think that no Western Screech-Owl with half an ounce of sense (or whatever the adjusted volume of sense would be for a Western Screech-Owl) would be making any noise at all in a place where Barred Owls were hanging around. An age ago (50 years), the thought of a Barred Owl here would have been laughable. These birds simply weren’t found on this side of the United States, and one would have more likely found a Spotted Owl ruling the roost here.

But the old-growth that Spotted Owls prefer was slowly removed, and the fragmentation that Barred Owls don’t seem to mind led them little-by-little across the continent, until they finally reached the West Coast. They’re here to stay, and it’s been 40 years or more since a Spotted Owl has been seen in these parts.

But my task here is investigation. I didn’t want to say I didn’t find Spotted Owls in the county because I simply knew in advance that they weren’t here. I came to the place where they’d last been found in the county… and I found Barred Owls. They outcompete, they hybridize, they even predate on Spotties.

And it’s interesting. My Facebook feed is not shy at all about dropping posts into my feed that talk about “Saving the Owls!”. The well-intentioned theme here is that some wildlife agencies have been authorized to kill invasive Barred Owls in a last (?) ditch attempt to save Spotted (and, to be honest, Western Screech-) Owls. And someone looking at a picture of a Barred Owl would understand: These poor little birds are just trying to get by – they shouldn’t be shot. I don’t know that any of the people responding with a tearing up emoji on these posts understands the havoc that Barred Owls are bringing to ecosystems out here. They are, in many ways, as welcome as English Ivy – a plant that nobody would think twice about pulling as they see it completely covering and killing a local tree.

On the road, looking for grouse

It’s difficult stuff! And the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife has not completely given up on this battle. They’ve been looking at a number of different approaches to try to help native owls. In this particular case the native owls… well, who knows for sure? As the night went along, the wind howled louder and louder. Fortunately, it was all howling through the trees far above me. My tent seemed to be catching no more than a fraction of the wind’s anger that night. But it was loud. Loud enough to quiet even the most optimistic owls from calling during the night.

Good morning!

At some point, it was close enough to morning for me to consider getting dressed and getting into my car. The clothes I wanted to wear were brought into my sleeping bag for pre-heating, and I eventually made it out. As skilled as I am at finding REM sleep in a short amount of time, I’m pretty sure I found very little that night. I dozed off and didn’t even think about heading out on my grouse hunt until it started to get light.

With a little light, I got my camp all packed up – a process that I’ve been pretty quick with over the years. I got some food in me (the last of the 12 loaves of soda bread, some strawberries, and some yogurt that had weathered the 30 something degree night just fine in my car), and drove the roads in search of Ruffed Grouse.

My car is a 2019? 2018? Ford Ecosport. I always need to check the title to make sure. It’s not a number that is interesting to me most days. But the GPS from that thing is from 1942, I swear. It never ceases to amaze me – the major highway changes that are not reflected in the system. But in this case, it didn’t steer me wrong. I followed roads higher from my campground (eyes open for grouse on the roadside or in a tree all the way), and they all matched what my vehicle was telling me should be there.

Red Crossbill

My vehicle did not tell me about the end of the road. And that’s fine. I like a pleasant surprise. At the top of this… spot, peak, “ridge”, apparently… things opened up. There were several radio installations, including T-Mobile, according to one of the signs. There were numerous signs warning that the area was under video surveillance, and there were views to the Columbia. 

Parpala Road

I made it down into Naselle, and got some coffee to go with my morning meal. There's not a lot of businesses in Naselle, but they do have a coffee kiosk. No drip coffee, of course, so I couldn't properly reproduce my morning routine of putting back a pot of drip coffee. The barista and I talked it over and I got a nearly perfect order: two grande americanos - one of them with an ice cube so that it would be ready to drink, and one of them capped so that it would be as warm as possible when it came time to get cup number two. 

From town, I had a couple options - Highway 101, or Parpala Road on the south side of the Naselle River. I'm always down for a drive down a new road! So, I found the turn off and started down Parpala. I passed, but did not get a picture of, the historic church on this road. I've read a little more about it, and want to get a closer look next time I'm in town!

Almost immediately on the road, this is the view: 

What a beautiful view! And I fully understand that the view may become more nerve-wracking than beautiful at times, depending on rainfall, wind, and even tides. But this house looks ready. 

The road was pretty, and I was the only traffic I saw that morning. Near the end, where it rejoins with 101 at the Naselle River Bridge, it opens up quite a bit, giving views of large fields holding, in this season, many-a-goose.

Apparently, there is a road that heads south from Parpala, Ellen's Worth Road, that heads into Ellsworth Preserve. I'm curious about so many of the names in this county. A basic search here gave me no hints. But Ellen's Worth, one must assume, was high. The preserve, a place where old and new growth is managed for Spotted Owl and Marbled Murrelet, is certainly worth a visit on a future trip. 

My destination from here was the Tarlatt Unit of Willapa Bay NWR, but I did make a stop a boat launch that I'm hoping to use this year. Long Island is looking back at me from across this narrow channel - the second largest island in the state that is not accessible by ferry or car. I don't know why, but the simple act of buying a kayak seems like a big deal to me. The expense itself isn't tiny, although I feel like I'll get the mileage out of it. There's also the life jacket, the paddles, the ... other kayak things... I have been in a kayak before, but it never sinks in exactly what you need to purchase to use it, yeah? And a roof rack?? So, I've been jumping in sloth-style. In fact... there... I texted a friend to navigate the kayak-purchasing process with me. I'm committed. 

I've recounted it before, but it made me laugh enough that I have to recount it again. A friend and one-time kayak guide has let me bend his ear about this purchase. I asked generally about kayaking in Willapa Bay, and he gave a not-unviolent description of the ways people could die whilst trying to kayak in Willapa Bay. I sheepishly asked at this point if trying to get to Long Island might be doable, given the short distance. "Oh you could do that in a bathtub." :D 

I'm not going to get a bathtub. But it's not going to be a top-of-the-line sea kayak that crosses the little channel here. As I looked across, I saw a raccoon down on the mud - one of ten mammals I saw during the trip!

Tarlatt Unit - Willapa National Wildlife Refuge

Geographically, the sign designer here is from that one place where they say
"Leave them be!" and "Let them alone!"
I tend to think that one is left in a state (such as alone) 
and allowed (let) to perform an action (such as being).
But language is funny!

Tree Swallow

Marsh Wren

I got a little turned around here. Just for full clarification, I have a flip phone that I use on these trips. I mean... it's what I *use* in my day to day. No internet connection - I love all of the things that this phone doesn't do. I was just running off of my map, and my recollection of where the Tarlatt Unit was. My first guess was incorrect. I took 67th Street from Sandridge Road, and ended up at the headquarters. Apparently, this was also the starting point for the trail into the Riekolla Unit. So many Units. I looked around a little bit but was sure that I remembered seeing more interesting birds showing up at Tarlatt. So, it was out to Sandridge, and back up to 95th, which goes to Tarlatt. 

Parking was on the road, and I found three different trails available. One short one took me to a little pond that was teeming with swallows. I honestly believed that I had seen a Northern Rough-winged Swallow in the mix but continued searching only showed me Tree and Violet-green. Marsh Wrens chittered from nearly every tuft of grass throughout the morning. 

Fields along the way gave me two new species for the year, American Pipit (126 for the year), and American Goldfinch (127). Both expected in this kind of open habitat, and both welcome additions. Heading back to the parking lot, I turned and walked towards the South Bay. 100ish geese, a fairly even mix of Canada and Cackling were out on the fields between the trail and Willapa Bay. The channels (still lined with Marsh Wrens) held numerous Mallards and Green-winged Teal. 

Band-tailed Pigeons

Trailing Blackberry
The yummy local ones

Some stretches were lined with conifers, and I had all sorts of expected forest birds: Chestnut-backed Chickadee, Brown Creeper, Golden and Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Varied Thrushes. But I was still missing a relatively common bird - Red-breasted Nuthatch! In the Seattle area, I'd expect them about as much as any of the other birds in similar habitat, but they'd eluded me on every trip so far. 

I reached the end of the trail - an overlook and an art installment, then scanned the fields for raptors for a bit before heading back. A young couple passed me and asked if I had seen any otters - something that they had come across with some excitement. I had not seen any here, but one had crossed a road earlier in my day - elk, deer, beaver, racoon, otter, Douglas and Eastern Gray squirrel. Not a bad mammal list for the day! And Pacific County had given me a great look at a porcupine earlier in the year. 

Cape Disappointment

Out to the lighthouse! No jetty today, or for the near future, as it is closed for construction. I still scanned the jetty from the lighthouse, thinking that a Black Oystercatcher would certainly stand out with its bright orange bill against the rocks. It had turned into a nice enough morning. Still a little chilly, but not biting cold, and there was nearly no wind as I scanned the water. 

What was I looking for? Marbled Murrelet, Rhinoceros Auklet, Long-tailed Duck, Harlequin Duck, White-winged Scoter, Yellow-billed Loon... uh... maybe a Ruddy Duck? As I watched some gulls and cormorants swarm together through my scope, even the idea of a jaeger came to mind. 

Six Surf Scoters... and some cormorants... and those greatly distant gulls. That's about all I had at the Cape. Disappointment for sure. But I decided to sign up for more disappointment, staying, and playing the role of eavesdropper/observer/conversator (the last one isn't a word, but when has that stopped me?). 

I listened to a man with an Aussie accent film and send a birthday message to a friend from "the Graveyard of the Pacific." He was not inaccurate here, as I've been reading in "The Good Rain" by Timothy Egan - a little book where the author retrace an historic travel route through the PNW. 

Surf Scoters far below me

Another woman was there with a young couple. She had an accent that I couldn't quite place. I asked about it... Indiana. The country of Indiana. I pride myself in my ear birding - my ability to taste the subtle differences between warbler chip notes, "The call note presents as a little dry, with a slight effervescence..." But I had to just take the L here, when it came to recognizing accents.

Turkey Vulture - close fly-by

Her nephew and his girlfriend were visiting the now-Oregonian on their first visit to the Pacific Northwest, and they were really drinking it in. As we sat and chatted about birds and euchre, we also got views of harbor seals and harbor porpoises in the water far below at the base of the cliff. They left eventually, and I waited maybe another five minutes. The decision-making on these trips is always funny. I always feel like I'm either the idiot who is standing there and staring at empty water, or the idiot who leaves five minutes before something really cool shows up. When the birds are thin, it's easy to hold these beliefs. 

But I guess that's part of why we do it. "Birds fly". My late birding buddy Peter Fahey would explain this to me regularly. It explains why the bird is there, and it simultaneously explains why the bird is not there. Pete would also explain, when asked how he found so many good birds, "I go... and I look for them."  

"So, where's my birds, Pete?" I asked the air and could almost hear the two word reply. Time for lunch.

Ilwaco

I headed to Ilwaco Cider Company. They allow outside food, so I immediately headed back out to forage. The pizza place was closed on a Monday, but Sips and Subs was recommended, so I walked a couple blocks to grab a sub. It wasn't a speedy thing - the little shack was quite popular that day as a visiting group of artists from Cal Berkeley was in town, and had chosen this as their lunch time stop. I got up to place my order afterwards, and they were nearly out of bread. I got an Italian and returned to the Cider Company. 

I'm always down for a flight of anything. Trying things out is a nice bit of fun. I got four small pours of cider: a cranberry (naturally! I'd passed so many bogs), a mulled cider, their Bone Dry, and Solitary Euphoria. I'm a sucker for a good name, so I was partial to the last one. I also figured that it might bring me some good luck, some euphoria perhaps, in the form of a good bird to chase, as I opened up my laptop and got logged in. 

I opened up my alerts on eBird and nearly spit out my cider.

eBird Checklist - 22 Mar 2026 - Westport pelagic--Continental Slope N of Willapa Canyon (Pacific Co.) - 7 species (+1 other taxa)

eBird Checklist - 22 Mar 2026 - Westport pelagic--Offshore Pacific County - 11 species (+1 other taxa)

eBird Checklist - 22 Mar 2026 - Westport pelagic--Willapa Canyon (Pacific Co.) - 10 species (+1 other taxa)

Westport Seabirds makes regular trips, dozens of miles offshore to take birders out in search of albatrosses, storm-petrels, shearwaters, and the like. Most trips stay in Grays Harbor County. None *plan* to go into Pacific County, but when conditions are right, they extend the trip to Willapa Canyon. At $220 for a trip, it's a really good deal, but in a year where I'm trying to find Pacific County birds, it's a bit of a crapshoot. 

My three plans for finding the first albatross I've ever seen in my life: 

1. Throw money repeatedly at trips out of Westport, and cross them fingers.

2. Stand there like an idiot at places like Cape Disappointment, ignore the name of the place, and wait for an albatross to get seriously lost. 

3. I'm working on plan three. ;)

See.. back in January, I reached out to many fishing charters that run out of Astoria and Ilwaco. I landed on a few of them that would be willing to take a boat out to Willapa Canyon to look for some birds. The economics of this are not all that surprising. For six people on a boat, it would come out to $300 per person, equally split. Throw an experienced guide on there who might expect a free trip and/or pay, and the cost shifts even farther north from there. 

The even split piece is one I would immediately throw out the window, should this trip come to fruition. My interest in getting out there exceeds the interest others might have. Some have the money to "Plan 1" the situation, heading out on multiple pelagic trips each year. I might still spend less than some of them do annually, and get... the trip of a lifetime, honestly. So, there's one part of Plan 3 that might make this more possible - bringing the cost for others down to something "normal", and just eating the rest of it. 

And on a small boat, having 1/6th of the boat riding for free is an interesting economical decision. Even within this plan there are a few different plans within, once you consider guides: 3a) Find a guide to come, let them come free, or pay for their way without changing the price for anyone else but myself, pushing my personal cost through the roof. 3b) GoFund Myself, or some variation on this. 3c) Just run 6 interested birders out to the right parts of the Pacific, chum in hand, and trust that between the 6 of us, we could, with deep deep preparation, tell an albatross from a storm-petrel. 

I have no doubts that 3c would mean missing a species or three. Whether it's a bird at a distance, or a bird mixed in with many others, there is skill developed over time - an understanding of seasonality, an ability to get on a bird based on its style of flight, and the knowledge of what field marks to zero in on for identification. There are reasons people pay for guided tours! But again...

Laysan Albatross from Cornell's Allaboutbirds.com

 

Black-footed Albatross from the aforementioned site

Am I willing to bet huuuundreds of dollars that I could tell the difference between these two albatrosses? Yes. Yes, I am. Not all of the birds are quite so easily distinguished though! I already know some of the challenges that present themselves, such as Sooty versus Short-tailed Shearwater: 

Sooty Shearwater - Allaboutbirds.com

Short-tailed Shearwater - Allaboutbirds.com

Would I bet huuuundreds of dollars that I could sort these two birds out from each other, maybe at a distance? Good lord, no. Hardly impossible to separate, with preparation, but again, there are so many field marks and flight patterns that lead to separating these species. A person needs to get *on* the bird to even start sorting them out. This is the kind of bird where I'd be ready for the possibility of a lost species. That, and... you can get rarities flying in that might catch nearly any semi-serious birder flat-footed!

So... plans are cooking, and they'll land somewhere in the 3s. Plan 3d? "Hey Tim! I've been on a bazillion pelagic trips, even guided some, and would find it *easily* worth $200 and change to head out on this little excursion." 

As I was looking through the species lists, another bird showed up in my alerts: Western Bluebird! "No boat needed for that..." I settled up, grabbing a four pack of cider to go, and headed to the Riekkola Unit. 

Riekkola Unit - Willapa NWR

I'd hiked almost all of the trails. All of the units. But this was one I'd skipped this morning. Now I was looking at a Western Bluebird sighting from a mere 15 minutes earlier at a spot 15 minutes from me. I arrived, parked, and hit the trail. Much like Lynn Point Road in Nemah the day before, I crossed so many nest boxes that had the full attention of Tree Swallows before finally landing on a Western Bluebird in my binoculars (128!). It was perched near a nest box, then took flight. I love how these birds seem to fly just like robins, but with a little extra fun, for lack of a better description. Robins fly from A to B. Bluebirds fly from A to Whee!

Couldn't recover the bird for a picture, but I wanted to, so I stayed and looked over other birds. I came across a sizable pile of Long-billed Dowitchers, distinguished from Short-billed Dowitchers this time of year by call, rather than any field marks I could have hunted for. At a distance, there were more ducks. And ... holy Pacific County... did every duck today need to be a Mallard or a Green-winged Teal? 

"A shoveler or something would be nice..."

Three of 'em! (maybe a fourth at front left?) These Northern Shovelers (species 129 for the year list in Pacific) joined a list of several other ducks that I've likely seen in single-digit numbers, or not far into double digits. None of these birds (Gadwall, Barrow's Goldeneye, Lesser Scaup, Eurasian Wigeon... I'm missing others here, but you get the idea), are all that earth-shaking discoveries. That said, each time I find one of these species, it's one fewer species to plan around. 

I returned to Naselle, where I had a reservation at Hunter's Inn. The room was reasonable, and reasonably clean. Given how I'd started the day, turning endlessly and uncomfortably in my tent with the wind whipping through the trees overhead, it felt like a palace. I brought everything in, except for my key fob, of course. Which I left on top of my car, of course. After a good search, I relocated it, and tumbled off to sleep, exhausted.