Margie on Sauvie Island

As I drove across the Sauvie Island Bridge, Margie said softly, “It’s like entering another country. The wide open fields, the quiet, the open sky. And where are the cars? We’re the only car on the road!”

Margie, who lives in a lovely condo on the 11th floor in downtown Portland, had not been out in the wild for far too long.

She didn’t wear her glasses, and neither of us brought binoculars. We just relied on our senses. We saw and heard snow geese, thousands of them. We spotted a flock of sandhill cranes by following the sound with our eyes; we caught two bald eagles in flight and a third on her nest, some tundra swans, ducks, the omnipresent Canada geese, and thousands of little brown birds. Two of our favorite moments were when Margie realized that she could hear the soft lapping of the Columbia River against the sand (main blip), and when the cranes flew right over our heads (extra). She tried to make a phone photo of the snow geese (second extra), but the phone wasn’t up to the task. “We’ll just have to take it in through our skin,” she whispered, “and remember it. I forget things all the time, but I feel like I could never forget this.”

The main blip is a bit soft, but I love her expression of wonder in it.