Sometimes I like to travel for days on end, enjoying the visual feast provided by new places. Other times I enjoy digging in and exploring as I have been doing in the Grand Coulee Dam area while I wait for warmer weather up north. The only problem with staying 12 days is that attachments form and I must say goodbyes. Here, I will miss my breakfast waitress and the gossipy librarians who talk endlessly while I try to work 10 feet away. I won’t be able to wave anymore to the campground stuff who are furiously getting things trimmed, mowed, and swept for the official May 1st opening day. And then, at the risk of sounding sappy, like Snow White I have lots of critter friends.

Each afternoon when I lay out on my yoga mat to stretch and then totally relax while my mind wanders, a Western Kingbird joins me. It only takes him a minute or so after I settle in to show up on a tree branch above me. I watch him as he watches for flies. When my tent rainfly ripples in the wind, he cocks his head to listen then returns to his fly-catching. Another Kingbird sometimes flies in to torment him, and my bird will fly off to deal with him then fly back to his perch near me. He is good company, and I like that he does not want to share my affections. I feel like we have adopted each other, and I will miss him.

A female turkey also visits. I call her Turkey Girl. She never gets too close but struts along the road or along the edge of the bushes. It seems that she thinks I cannot see her if she stays 20 feet away. At night, after Tango and I settle in the tent, I hear Turkey Girl cluck as she walks around outside the tent. Most nights, I hear her try to fly onto the picnic table then a clanging as her claws hit the metal. I will remember Turkey Girl and her routines long after I leave.

I will sort of miss my pack of coyotes, whom I dubbed the Coulee Pack. They run through not far from here every night around 10 PM. By then I have turned off Aubible and curled up under my sleeping bag. Tango is likewise curled up in his dog bed when the coyotes start their hunting cries but he bolts upright and seems to contemplate for a moment if he will respond to the primal cries and join them. I grab his collar each night until the sound fades, not sure if I am keeping him from running or keeping him safe. Normally I enjoy nocturnal coyote concerts but being in a tent makes me feel a bit more vulnerable should one stray from the pack. Still, I will miss them a bit.

I won’t miss the swarm of sparrows. They have taken over the metal shelters where they have nests.Their morning songs are pleasant enough and act as my alarm clock. However, they soon start squabbling over territory and food. When I am not looking, they flit around my things looking for a nibble, leaving their poop as evidence. Fortunately, I brought a container of Clorox wipes, and each evening I walk around cleaning their poop off the picnic table, my binoculars, the chair, and Tango’s dog food and water bowls.

Leaving is bittersweet and made possible only because but I have months of new adventures and hopefully new friends to meet along the way. Otherwise, I could hunker down here even longer!