Fog and winter sunlight

A collection of photos from two January afternoons on the White Rock and Semiahmoo beaches. (Same beach, opposite sides of the pier.)

Sunshine, fog, and the gulls flying ...

White breasts all in a row

More wing than gull

This little girl brought back memories. I was her, so many years ago. She moved along slowly, on hands and knees, examining each spot carefully. Once, she jumped up and ran to show her mother something she'd found. A minute later, she was back, searching through the stones again.

At one point she opened her arms as wide as possible, as if to embrace the whole marvellous beach. I know what she meant.

Kindred spirit.

Crow on a log. Some of the brush keeps its red colour all winter.

From the Semiahmoo beach, a hint of sunset, with birds flying into it.

The afternoon train, between the promenade and the actual beach.

Eagle, far overhead. Another golden juvenile?

Bald eagles, very annoyed. They were sitting on the rail by the railroad, and the train chased them off.

Late afternoon fog creeping in, slightly tinted by the setting sun.

I lived just up the hill a ways from this beach the year I was 11, back when the dinosaurs were still roaming about. I loved it then, I love it now; but more so on foggy days like this, with the gulls calling.

Killdeer and a roll of eelgrass

Even at high tide, the beach always holds surprises for us. On the narrow strip of rocks between the railway and the waves at Semiahmoo yesterday, we tracked three killdeer. They hid almost at our feet, invisible against the piles of rotting eelgrass, then broke cover with a worried, "Peep!" and flew a few feet away to melt into the background again. And again. Eventually, our eyes adjusted. And before they finally flew away, they allowed us to get some photos.

"Peep!" he said. A worry call.

I wanted a couple of things from the beach; some fresh sea lettuce for my aquarium critters, and a fair-sized kelp holdfast, just to see what it might contain. Each kind of seaweed harbours different organisms, and the holdfast, attached to the sea floor below the intertidal level, would probably be home to critters we don't usually see, even at really low tides.

Laurie untangled a few for me from a new eel-grass and kelp roll. He had to get out his knife to cut through the stipe on the largest. I bagged them up and brought them home.

And they were full of goodies! It has taken all afternoon and evening to sort through everything. I'll have the first of the photos tomorrow.

Canoes at Semiahmoo

Figurehead, traditional Coast Salish canoe

T'wis?a. Does that mean "the loon"?

Notched prow of a sea-going canoe.

Seen at the wind-up of the annual Salish Sea Journey, hosted by the Semiahmoo Nation. More on the design and construction of these canoes, at Ocean Explorer.

Golden afternoon on Semiahmoo Beach

Everybody and their dogs were watching the Olympics hockey final. Perfect timing to hit the beach! We walked a couple of miles along the Semiahmoo shore, meandering from waterline to bushes and back. We weren't in anybody's way; quite a change from the usual Sunday afternoon.

And here, with no rhyme nor reason, since our wanderings had none, is a sampler of what we saw:

Tall tree covered with glorious white blooms. Their perfume filled the street.

Crow with snack.

Over the park near the kite-eating tree, a young eagle stood guard.

Yum!

Tiny snail. I think it's a topsnail.

Ulva, Sea lettuce. A ribbon-like variety.

Crows check out last night's bonfire, looking for forgotten crumbs.

Row of stacked rocks on a log. I added my contribution on the next log over.

Patterns on a driftwood log. What made knots like these?

Bubbles from incoming ripples.

Walking the dog on the railroad track. Little Campbell River outlet.

Train approaching the bridge, a few minutes later.

Mallard on Little Campbell River slough. Yes, the water was that colour. The rising tide made the ripples.

Yellowlegs, on the far shore, all by his lonesome.

Blue bunny, abandoned but not blue.

Pintail silhouetted against the afternoon light.

Laurie says this hole in a log looks like a bird silhouette. The log is used as a mini-bar; it has a sturdy bottle opener attached, and assorted beer bottle caps pounded into the wood.

Indian plum.

As we returned to the car, the celebration started; honking, hooting, tooting, "woo-hoo!"ing. We gathered that Canada had won gold. Yay! Happy crowds, with their dogs, poured onto the beach. This man was wearing a flag as a cape.

Go, Canada!

And we went home, well content.

What has six legs and no head?

It was the end of an afternoon on the Semiahmoo beach. The tide was still going out, but we were cold and hungry and heading home. Squinting against the slanting light, watching for herons, I noticed three somethings; I couldn't make out what at that distance. Something silhouetted against the brightness, bigger than gulls, fatter than herons ... what was it?

It was too far to go see, too late. The camera serves as eyes, in cases like this. With the lens at its maximum, a hand more or less shading it, I got this photo.

Something missing.

I see, plain as day, walking along the water's edge, three people. Half-people, more accurately. Two women, one taller man, probably. Hard to tell for sure without a torso and head.

Zombies, out for a constitutional? What else walks around missing essential body parts?

Invasive species? Kiteus Eatemupus

Also known as Charlie Brown's Kite-eating tree. Now well established in southern BC.

Kite eaters. (Two kites; look closely.)

Kite hooks.

Next feeding, coming right up.

Kite watcher.

In Semiahmoo Park and Reserve.

Extremes

Heron and duck silhouettes, under a threatening sky:

Semiahmoo beach.

My day is made ...

... when a gull looks me in the eye.

"Yes? You called?"

Sometimes the beach echoes with the cries of gulls. ("Gull", my old Oxford says, comes from the "Welsh gwylan, Cornish guilan: ... 'to weep'. The probable sense was 'wailer' from its cry.")  Last Sunday, they mostly sat silently, waiting for the falling tide to expose their clam supper.

Gull man. (Gullible? Gulliver? Gully?)

Pre-flight pose. Looks a bit tipsy.

Waiting.

"Hey! That's me, down there!"

The sandpipers had already found their dinner, and chatted quietly as they ate:

"Peep!"

Digging deep.

"Peep, peep, peep, ... Let's try another spot. Over there! ..."

I love this photo, fuzzy as it is. Laurie was panning with the birds, but just not fast enough. I like the sense of movement and those needle-sharp bills. Danger coming, all you worms and beach hoppers! Hide!

The mallards were more placid, dawdling about in sleepy pairs.

... unless a dog happened by. Then ...

... off they went, with an annoyed, "Quack, quack, quack, QUACK!"