The heelers and I came across him first. A cyclist, out here in the middle of the desert. His long, dirty blonde hair in a ponytail and tucked under his hat.

Not really surprised to find him. This is the Continental Divide Trail, and it is the season.

Though it didn't seem like it the past few days. He apparently agrees, commenting on the lousy weather they've had upon entering our state from the south. We fill up his water bottles, and give the heelers a drink of their own as we wait for his partner to catch up.

Don't know if he was offended or not to find I was sharing the same water I give to the dogs. Didn't occur to me until later.

Her English is better than his, or at least, more American, I learn as we fill both her bottles. They're from Holland. Quit their jobs to take a summer off riding bicycles on the trail from Mexico to Canada. She tries coaxing the heeler sisters back out of the truck, with no luck. Both bound out, barking as they do, and get petted when I give the word.

He's impressed.

Their guidebook claimed this was the driest, harshest stretch of the entire trail. And most years it is. But not this year. They spent two nights holed up in our community because of the steady, heavy rain. They camped out here in the desert last night, not too far from where I started my bird route.

I tell them what the temperature was at 05:00 this morning.

34^o.

He's not surprised. Had frost on their saddlebags when they got up.

She asks what I'm doing out here? Patrolling the trail?

Nope. I just carry extra water, just in case. Been out counting birds.

If they're surprised at my answer, they don't show it. He comments on how nice it is to ride in the sun, instead of rain, and I get the hint.

Need to get going.

And as they slowly peddle away to the west, I hear something I've never heard in the desert before.

Dutch.

Seven miles farther on, as we drop over the divide into the basin, I spot two backpacks on the shoulder of the road. A man and a woman, sitting back on the green grass alongside Lost Soldier Creek, enjoying lunch in the sun.

Americans, near as I can tell. Older than the Dutch couple. They're also doing the Trail, only on foot. And, as is the norm, from south to north. The last front that went through caught them out here in the desert, and the hail drove them into the small town six miles to the east.

That's got to be quite a detour, on foot. Naturally, no vehicles came by when they were in need. Now that it's a nice day, I'm the second truck to go by.

And they also holed up in civilization, if you can call it that, for two nights. And are eager to hit the trail again. Their water jugs are already full.

The weather forecast?

Colder by the weekend. Not sure if there's more moisture coming (there is).

Again, it's the woman who asks what I'm doing out here.

Countin' birds.

"See anything interesting?"

So I mention the shrike. She's unimpressed. Suppose I could have mentioned the two eagles, but they're kinda common out here.

She comments it's nice work.

"So you're getting paid to be out here?"

Yup.

Time to go.

So, I'm not the only one inconvenienced by the wet weather. Certainly put a damper on getting these breeding bird surveys done.

But, ohhh, it has been wonderful for the wildflowers.