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| Swainson's thrush. |
If that sound were to disappear from Earth, I think the planet would collapse upon itself in great throes of agony.
11 June 2019
On the Song of the Swainson's Thrush
If that sound were to disappear from Earth, I think the planet would collapse upon itself in great throes of agony.
04 June 2019
Just the Little Things and a Very Big Mountain
Yesterday morning, I shared Mount St. Helens with some of its small residents and not much else.
I first noticed the lack of human activity when I didn't see another eastbound car on Highway 504. Considering that the highway leads to the popular Johnston Ridge Observatory, I found its emptiness quite a surprise. My amazement grew when I saw only one car in the parking lot at Coldwater Lake and then no cars at the lot for the Hummocks Trailhead. I might as well have been the only human in the entire Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument. That's such an exhilarating feeling.
Once on the Hummocks Trail though, I was anything but alone. Birds, including a large group of warbling vireos that kept me company to the base of Johnston Ridge, sang all around, and seemingly, every boulder had a chipmunk atop it. One of these rodents was the smallest of its species that I have ever seen. Its tail could not have been longer than two inches.
Part way up Johnston Ridge, I stopped to photograph Mount St. Helens and the surrounding area. Eventually, another hiker, the only one I would see in five hours on the trail, came along. We talked about the mountain for a little while, and when he left, I sat and watched clouds move around the crater. In the meantime, a western meadowlark started singing nearby--a retiring bird with a big voice providing the soundtrack for one of the most powerful places on Earth. It was a timeless moment, and with the other hiker well up the hill, it belonged to me alone. All I had to do was enjoy it, and that's just what I did.
That other hiker most certainly also missed the toad I saw on my way back down the ridge. I only happened to catch a glimpse of it before it retreated into its hole along the trail, but I couldn't believe my luck in the discovery. The toad had been warming itself in the morning sun, looking out on the mountain at the same time I had been. Mountain watching with a toad--how cool! A bit farther down the trail, I saw a lizard scurrying on the rocks. Overall, in the absence of people, the landscape teamed with activity for me to observe.
By the time I returned to my car, at least 10 other vehicles occupied the lot, and more sat in the lot at Coldwater Lake. However, even when I recorded my very first sighting of a Vaux's swift over the lake, I don't think anyone else noticed. That little bird flitted and swooped overhead, but like so many other events around the mountain yesterday, the sighting was all mine.
To me, yesterday will always be the day I experienced Mount St. Helens with just the little things.
I first noticed the lack of human activity when I didn't see another eastbound car on Highway 504. Considering that the highway leads to the popular Johnston Ridge Observatory, I found its emptiness quite a surprise. My amazement grew when I saw only one car in the parking lot at Coldwater Lake and then no cars at the lot for the Hummocks Trailhead. I might as well have been the only human in the entire Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument. That's such an exhilarating feeling.
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| A warbling vireo along the Hummocks Trail at Mount St. Helens. |
Part way up Johnston Ridge, I stopped to photograph Mount St. Helens and the surrounding area. Eventually, another hiker, the only one I would see in five hours on the trail, came along. We talked about the mountain for a little while, and when he left, I sat and watched clouds move around the crater. In the meantime, a western meadowlark started singing nearby--a retiring bird with a big voice providing the soundtrack for one of the most powerful places on Earth. It was a timeless moment, and with the other hiker well up the hill, it belonged to me alone. All I had to do was enjoy it, and that's just what I did.
That other hiker most certainly also missed the toad I saw on my way back down the ridge. I only happened to catch a glimpse of it before it retreated into its hole along the trail, but I couldn't believe my luck in the discovery. The toad had been warming itself in the morning sun, looking out on the mountain at the same time I had been. Mountain watching with a toad--how cool! A bit farther down the trail, I saw a lizard scurrying on the rocks. Overall, in the absence of people, the landscape teamed with activity for me to observe.
By the time I returned to my car, at least 10 other vehicles occupied the lot, and more sat in the lot at Coldwater Lake. However, even when I recorded my very first sighting of a Vaux's swift over the lake, I don't think anyone else noticed. That little bird flitted and swooped overhead, but like so many other events around the mountain yesterday, the sighting was all mine.
To me, yesterday will always be the day I experienced Mount St. Helens with just the little things.
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