At the southernmost entrance from the street to Crescent Beach, two engraved rocks lurk under the salmonberry bushes.
Well, it's spring, but we haven't seen the low tides, nor the herring spawning. But the eagles are certainly following. Along the shore both at White Rock and at Crescent Beach (we visited both this Friday), almost every tall tree sported at least one.
In one of the evergreens, an eagle was calling and calling, barely pausing for breath. (Such a squeaky, shrill sound from such majestic birds! I am tempted to offer them a throat lozenge.) We walked in that direction for a while, and finally came opposite the caller's tree. I saw one eagle, then the next time I looked, two. They sat, quietly at last, for a minute or two.
"Well, hello, there! You finally got here! I've been calling you for hours!"
A minute later, both eagles were on one branch, with a privacy screen in front.
Fuzzy photo, but it shows the exultant spread of wings.
Still busy back there.
Tender moment over, they each rested on their own branch. When we passed on our way back, half an hour later, they were still there.
Awwww! Young love!
Next; "Endless forms, most beautiful." The water creatures.