|Mount Rainier and Little Tahoma Peak|
|This is not a bird|
I wanted some elevation gain, so I started hiking along the White River, which would eventually take me to the Burroughs Mountain Trail. I wasn't sure exactly how far it was to Burroughs from here, and I hadn't really 'planned' out this hike (my equipment list? binoculars, camera, apple), so I decided to keep going up until the time got too late, or the trail got inconvenient, or the view stopped improving.
|I resisted the temptation to run to that rocky thing - want to know what it's called!|
|And a little closer|
I realized the mathematics of it and laughed a little. 90+ % of the birds that I had seen that day would have to go unidentified, since they were all in that single flock, and I had been listening so hard for a certain call, that I didn't pay enough attention to the call I was actuallly hearing. A Varied Thrush called from somewhere on the rocks, and I made my way down. The temperature was right, and sections of the trail were wide and soft, so some of the trip down was at a nice jog, letting the mountain carry me down.