11, 12, 14, 16, 19 November

11 November 

eBird data:  https://ebird.org/checklist/S122251607

weather 10:00 am 4C wind SSE 2, 1:00 pm 5C wind NW4, cloudy

tide:  11:30 am 4.2m, falling

12 November

eBird data:  https://ebird.org/checklist/S122310668

weather:  8:30 am 0C, wind calm,  12:30 pm 5C wind SSW 3 cloudy

tide:  10:30 am 4.5m, falling

14 November

eBird data:  https://ebird.org/checklist/S122430634

weather:  9:00 am 3.2C wind 4kph, 1:00 pm 4.4C 5 kph, cloudy

tide:  10:30 am, 4.6m, at peak, falling

16 November

eBird data:  https://ebird.org/checklist/S122529174

weather:  9:00 am 1C, wind 7kph, 1:00pm 3C, wind 5 kph, foggy

tide:  10:30 am, 10.28m, rising

19 November

eBird data:  https://ebird.org/checklist/S122676813

weather:  9:00 am 1C wind WSW 6,  1:00 pm 5C wind NW 8, hard frost, thawed, cloudy, clearing

tide:  10:30 3.4m, rising

11, 12 November

Two quiet days.  A late start on the 11th, as I had a friend (Jonathan Down--a really fine developmental paediatrician I worked with in Vancouver) stop for a visit, and stay for breakfast.  He has a spectacular camper that he stopped in overnight, but stayed chatting in the morning.  

We're still not really getting much rain, but it's now cloudy and ominous looking.

The morning tides have been high, 

and the duck migration is becoming livelier.  

The duck migration in its turn attracts eagles, who are apparently quite partial to duck--I've found bits of duck scattered about the Estuary.  Eek.

The salmon migration has also drawn eagles.  This is likely a four-year old --he hasn't gone fully white, which more likely will happen when he's about five years old.

He's feeding on the remains of a salmon.

Watching the river, there was a younger eagle, at a guess first year, 

The beak on this guy is fading to yellow, but the plumage looks like a very young bird.  At this stage, people will often mistake them for golden eagles, although those aren't usually found at the seaside.  

The dipper was busy fishing, but too distant to yield good photos.  

I'll see what tomorrow offers.  It's supposed to be another dry but dark day.

14 November

Another dry but dark day, indeed. 

By the merganser pond (no mergansers), two deer stood, studying me carefully, as they do.

I'm assuming from the sizes that they are mother and youngster.

 The tides are propitious for duck-counting, and yes, there are now lots of ducks.  

Today was the first I saw common goldeneyes, hanging among the mallards, mostly.

The dipper was busy, finding salmon eggs and small fish.

16 November

A foggy morning, and chilly.  

Although it's not particularly helpful for birding, fog has its own beauty at times.  

It's not great for driving, but it lends a certain mystery to landscapes.

The tide was quite high again, and although there was a certain mystery to duck identification and counting, somehow it seemed clearer over the water than inland.

There seem to be more Eurasian wigeons than usual among the American wigeons.

They are a handsome duck, I think.  

Tomorrow, if we're not socked in, I'm planning a trip up-Island to see what the migration is doing at Deep Bay.  I'll include that account in this blog.

19 November

Trip up-Island yesterday didn't materialise.  We were indeed socked in.

After an uneventful week, an interesting morning.  Really.  Birdwise and otherwise.

A heavy frost, first thing.  I still think of the saying about "no bad weather, just bad clothes," variously attributed to various First Nations and Swedes.  I don't buy into it, whoever coined it.  I'm persuaded that freezing fog is bad weather, and mixed precipitation, particularly with wind is bad weather and really hard to dress for.  Oh well.  This morning was perfectly ok, even if a tad nippy.  

For the first time this season, there was a flock of siskins, in the birch by the Mills Street entrance to the Reserve.  

Unfortunately, I didn't have much of a chance to photograph.  As I was trying for some good photos, I was charged by a pit bull, barking and growling.  I like dogs, but this felt scary.  I took out my bear spray and shouted, "CALL YOUR DOG!" No response.  Dog approached, I tried again.  "DOG GETS MUCH CLOSER HE GETS A FACE FULL OF BEAR SPRAY."  Still no response. Dog was about five feet from my pepper spray at this point. 

A young woman appeared with a little girl with her.  Oh dear.  I recognised them from previous meetings.  Woman is profoundly deaf.  She wouldn't have heard her dog or me yelling at her.  She signed to me --I'm not at all competent in ASL--I held up my bear spray, pointed to it and to  her dog, and mimed putting a leash on a dog.  (She was carrying a leash.)  She leashed the dog, who was still growling, and made her way into the Estuary. 

...I gave them some time to make their way, and thought:  She didn't hear me.  She didn't hear her dog.   I wonder if the little girl can hear?  She's still very young--maybe five.  Although it's very possible that she can hear, she may be too young to interpret for her mom.  Still, I found the situation scary.  I don't know the answer.  If I were profoundly deaf, I'd likely want a dog as protection, but I'm not sure how I would deal with the protective dog situation.  I'm not sure I'd even know it existed.  

...Anyhow, I continued into the Estuary, cautiously.

The morning had warmed up and the frost had mostly thawed, although the Merganser Pond was frozen over.  

As the clouds lifted, the light was at times spectacular.

By the time I entered the Estuary path, the frost had lifted, for the most part.  

The tide was at mid-flow.

The river was still high.  The eagles were vocal, but not particularly visible. 

There was a group of mergansers along the river as well as goldeneyes.  

There were also  two dippers, both busily fishing.  

On consultation with various sources, the fish is likely a very small sculpin. (Corrections and suggestions are most welcome.  Please.)  Whatever it was, the dipper smacked it on the rock repeatedly to tenderise it, and then made his/her meal.

Making my way back from the river, the brush by the trail was full of the song of Pacific wrens.  (Sorry, no photos.)  And there was a pair of red-breasted sapsuckers, noisily drilling tree.  (Again, no photos, because the brush was just too dense. )  Nevertheless, I was happy to see new visitors.

Home to thaw out...