The last couple of days have been frigid in Vancouver as an Arctic Outflow event has had overnight temperatures dipping to -12 C or below, with wind chill approaching -20 C. During the day, it’s been no higher than about -6 C, but at least it’s been sunny! With a couple of hours to fill, and wearing as many layers as I could bear to pull on, I drove down to Boundary Bay for some fresh air, open skies, mountain views, and the hope of seeing some birds, maybe even an owl.
Bald eagles are plentiful at Boundary Bay, with several trees hosting large nests, and I drove past a dozen or more on my way down to the dyke at the end of 72nd Street. A heron flew towards me along the drainage ditch, its dinosaur profile so obvious. The first birds I saw on the dyke were a mixed bunch of sparrows – song sparrows, golden-crowned sparrows, and their larger cousins, spotted towhees – and chickadees pecking away at some seed left on a tree stump. Each bird was fluffed up against the cold, spherical balls of feathers with two eyes, a beak, and (sometimes) a pair of feet. Nearby among the briars next to the golf course, a couple of house finches joined in the fun.
The marshes were frozen, as was the sea water that usually lapped at their edges. I don’t normally wander out onto the flats as I don’t want to disturb the birds and – more selfishly – I’m not keen on getting wet feet after an inevitable wrong step. But today, I could follow a path quite easily and had no trouble keeping my feet dry. Plus I could see that with the sea being frozen, there were no birds nearby – I only disturbed a few more song sparrows here and there plus a flicker that swooped in to perch on a piece of driftwood for a few moments.
I was mesmerized by the ice (dare I say, mesmer-iced?). I didn’t trust it to hold my weight so I stepped from tussock to tussock in search of the best shapes to photograph. Across the bay filled with rough ice lay the snow-plastered mountains of the North Cascades, Mount Baker standing tall over Crescent Beach. East of Mount Baker, I could identify Mount Shuksan, Tomyhoi, the Border Peaks, and the Cheam Range. Sweeping round to the north, the peaks of Golden Ears stood out prominently, while the North Shore and nearby ranges gleamed white in the afternoon sunshine. It was a magnificent sight.
Back to the ice. I wandered around for a while taking photo after photo, entranced by the shapes in the ice, some of it sculpted into wave-like features, tufts of grass poking out in others. It was an amazing sight and I had a great time exploring the boundary between the frozen land and frozen sea.
Sated, I picked my way back to the dyke over the frozen marsh and walked east alongside the empty golf course. Within a couple of minutes I came across a northern harrier perched in a tree, easily spooked as I walked past. A short distance further, a juvenile bald eagle had perched in a snag right next to the dyke and I joined a photographer with a longer lens than mine to take a few photos. I quickly moved on eager to see what else might be flying around.
Movement on the golf course caught my eye and I was delighted to recognize the floating flight of a short-eared owl. I took one photo (the owl was barely visible in the photo and somewhat blurry) as a record and watched awhile, hoping it might fly in my direction and cross the dyke into the marsh. I lost track of it but then saw it again and waited for it to fly past – only to realize I was watching a northern harrier flap past. Was I mistaken? Had I really seen an owl? I checked my photo and sure enough – it was clearly an owl, but it must have gone in a different direction when the harrier appeared. Owls and harriers often compete for food which can lead to tussles for prey – a few years ago, I remember seeing a pair tangle their talons as both tried to claim a poor (ex-) vole. (A few hours after I wrote this I saw a wonderful photo on Instagram that showed an in-air standoff between two of these birds!)
In the meantime I was content to admire the mountains for a while, and took yet more mountain photos. Another photographer – with a very long lens over his shoulder – caught up with me and we both watched with delight as another northern harrier flew from the golf course over the dyke, passing us (barely a car’s length away) and allowing the other photographer to capture the raptor as it floated by while I just watched. I knew there was no way I would be able to get a good photo so I contented myself with storing the experience in my mind’s eye rather than the camera’s. The photographer showed me one his photos afterwards and it looked absolutely perfect – the bird was beautifully lit by the afternoon sun and was looking straight at the photographer. A wonderful image!
That encounter marked my turnaround point and I was grateful to have my back to the chill breeze on my return to the car, where a mug of hot coffee waited. I was only on the bay for an hour-and-a-half but it had been a wonderful time and I drove back to meet Maria with my soul feeling as light as the birds I’d seen.
Being. Outdoors. 