6-16 January

6 January

eBird data:  https://ebird.org/checklist/S158294921

weather:  10:00 am 4C,  1:00 pm 5 C partly cloudy

tide:  11:30 am 4.5m, rising

16 January

eBird data:  https://ebird.org/checklist/S159094019

weather:  10:30 am -2C wind WNW 2,  2:00 pm 2C wind SE 2  overcast

tide:  11:30 am 4.6m, falling 

6 January

A mostly clear day, with a high tide.  The river was high and swift after rainfall in previous days. 

It was the first day in some time that Mount Arrowsmith was clearly visible.   It's still late in developing a snow pillow.

A dipper was busy in the river, diving after salmon smolts.

In the blackberry vines near the duck-counting benches, a fox sparrow eyed me suspiciously.

An assortment of ducks occupied one of the tidal channels in the estuarine fields.  I hadn't noticed until I loaded this photo, but there seems to be a female canvasback among the more common species.  Note the light head at the far right of the group.

Here she is, very heavily cropped:

It was a good day for Pacific wren photos.  This normally shy bird seems to have been an exhibitionist.

Field guides sometimes characterise this little character as "secretive."  They do become less shy during mating season, but this is very early.

A final shot shows attitude:  one of those photos that begs a caption.

Maybe the old, "Take a picture--it will last longer," line.

16 January

A return to the Estuary after days of rain, and an assortment of chores that kept me elsewhere.  Almost a fine day, although the final 500 metres left me sickened.  (More to follow.)

It's been very cold--depending on your preference, -10 Celsius or 15 Fahrenheit.  A strange, intense cold, with only light snow, but the earth has been frozen hard, and much of the river and estuary had been iced over.  

I arrived at the Estuary late.  I'd been working until the tiny hours on a project for the Arrowsmith Naturalists, and slept in, but decided to make my way to the Estuary to see what could be seen.  As has happened before, if the late arrival limited what could be seen, a lot remained.

At the river's bend, there were two dippers.  

I first saw this little character swimming!  In very cold water.  As I've written before, dippers have many unusual traits for a songbird.  The Cornell Lab of Ornithology describes them:

This species' distinctive traits include frequent dipping, a blinking white eyelid, and vigorous feeding by jumping or diving into turbulent water even at ambient temperatures well below 0 °C. To persist in this demanding environment, the American Dipper has a low metabolic rate, extra oxygen-carrying capacity in its blood, and a thick coat of feathers.

BRRR!  It must indeed be quite a coat of feathers.  I heard the second dipper and then later saw him/her in flight above the river.  (NO DAMMIT!  I'm not going to use "they" as a neuter pronoun!)

As I walked along the river, it was evident that beavers have been very busy. (Someone must have told them the proverb, eh?)  They're not usually visible during daylight hours, but their efforts on the east shore of the river are increasingly apparent.  

They must have burrows in the bank--lodges work for ponds, but beavers also inhabit burrows along streams.  It's not visible here, but there are  larders stacked along the riverbank of brush and smaller trees, to provide the locals with bark to eat.  

I find beavers fascinating.  They can pose a nuisance, especially along streams in settled areas, where they can block storm drains and take down trees that would otherwise be useful.  But they're amazingly skilled and determined.   I've yet to find a source that explains to me how this species, and ONLY this species, has developed to gnaw down trees, build lodges,  and dam streams.  I guess the closest evolution is human engineers.  I can trace that, but it doesn't look much like these critters.  I'll welcome any information about behavioural evolution in beavers.  

I made my way along the river, taking a detour into the woods to check how Grandma Maple had held up in the icy weather.

She's doing fine, a tough old gal, I guess.  The stand of ferns and brush to the north of the path ...

...teemed with chickadees, kinglets, and bushtits, none of whom cooperated with photos.  Oh well.

Along the river, there were three varied thrushes, pretty birds.

They seem drawn to this spot--they were here last year, too.

Along the stream that feeds into the river, there were two pair of hooded mergansers.

As on New Year's Day, there was a showy solar halo, possibly a harbinger of the snowstorm of the coming day.

As I continued my walk, back to the parking lot, I made a simply obscene  discovery.

A fine stand, mostly alder, mixed with cedar, has been cut down.  It was prime habitat for owls, woodpeckers, and in the spring, warblers.  I've no idea to whom it belongs, but I can't believe it can be used by developers--it's in a canyon of sorts and there's a stream of water descending through it.  It just seems incredible that it can have been cut down.  After a truly fine afternoon's walk, I left the Estuary feeling angry and sick.  And I suspect there's nothing to do in response.  

It's worrying.  I guess the only possible response is to find who was responsible and try to defer any further outrages on this beautiful area.  

It's not a beginning to the year that I would have wanted to see.