20 years ago I was taught how to birdwatch at Malheur National Wildlife Refuge in extreme S.E. Oregon by a lovely couple named Ralph & Sharon. We rounded up the usual suspects of a wetland riparian area in the high scrub country of the Great Basin. Canvasback ducks, White Faced Ibis, Cattle Egrets, White Pelicans, the whole crew. We had special moments spotting a family of Great Horned Owls high up on a rim rock cliff, shaded from the heat of mid day. I’m still hooked on birding, and this last weekend I returned from my double-decade break to the Refuge, and found a place I like to call the corner of Oregon.

Near the Refuge is a geological wonder called Steens Mountain. It rises gently to 10,000 ft and then abruptly, where I am standing above, drops one mile to the Alvord Desert below. The East slope is so gradual in fact that you can drive (unpaved, 4×4 only) right up to the summit & East rim! This particular day there were thousands of Cabbage Moths that had just migrated and begun to mate, you can see one in the lower right hand corner of the photo above. Standing here in the early morning is a moving experience. Alone, with nothing but the hum of the Earth surrounding you. Ethereal.

The entire region is populated today due to cattle ranching that started around the time of the Civil War. The decay of farms and the accouterment of moving livestock remain, baking in the sun, quiet and still. This is complete and utter solitude.

SE of the Reserve are the Oregon Diamond Craters, labelled an Outstanding Volcanic Monument, way out in the middle of the backcountry. Unpaved, black lava dust roads meander in and around craters that have been grown over, and remains of a lava flow that now reveal some rumblings in the past. I got out to huff it around one of the craters, and sunk in the soft lava silt the entire time. It was like jogging on a beach; difficult but oddly alluring. Beyond the craters the land flattens out and you can see for 40-50 miles. This county has very few trees.

While eating in the only restaurant in The Narrows (it’s on the map so it looks like a town, but in fact it’s just a gas station/RV park) I asked my waiter about distance here. He said “Yeah this open country really changes how 100 miles feels. For us, 100 miles isn’t really that far. It’s just a little drive to the next town.” In fact there is really only one incorporated area in the 10,000 sq. mi. county, and it’s the Burns/Haines community. All the rest is a collection of historic buildings, sleepy deserted farms, and houses strewn 20 and 30 miles from each other. The Oregon backcountry, as remote as it gets in this state.

The same waiter (well, he was also the gas station attendant, store clerk, and bartender) also informed me that “This is one of the biggest holes in America. The Great Basin is only talked about in Geology textbooks. There’s another hole up in Montana, and life’s hard here but I hate the cities.” He then told me that he thinks Portland smells like a fart. This is when I started to like him.

During 4 1/2 days I drove about 960 miles. Most of it was logged just getting out there, but I did a serious chunk of driving within the county, hopping from location to location. Easy to put on 150 miles just getting to a good spot and back before lunch. Windows down, shirt off, gravel roads, breeze on my body.

The Refuge headquarters is an oasis of shade and humans to talk to, and a museum of 200 stuffed bird specimens that can be seen in the region. There are about 340 bird species that use the Refuge either year-round or as a break from migrating. Many of these specimens and eggs were collected in the 30’s and 40’s, they are beautifully labelled and displayed with care. I remained in this room alone for quite a while before heading out to see the real thing just steps away in a nearby lake.

One of the unexpected delights of this “hole” in America is the access it gives you to our Solar System. Sunrise & sunset are magnificently spectacular. As are the star shows at night. I’ve never seen stars like this. Completely captivating display.

And, on my last morning before driving 7 1/2 hours NW back to my home in the city, the morning symphony of birds, the best stage lighting on our side of the Galaxy, and a new found love for another forgotten corner of this Earth. The chill of morning and an appetite for wonder are all I need for breakfast from now on. Sparkles.