Mallards on the estuary

In the light of today's news: fire, floods, war, assassinations, wilful blindness: I almost feel guilty for living where the skies are blue and gentle, where the ducks chatter among the wet grasses and bathe in the blue.

Wish I could pass on some of this peace.

Viewing platform and blind, Campbell River estuary, high tide, three wigeons.

As I passed the couple with their toddler a few minutes later, the kid was calling out, "Duck! Duck! Duck!"

Mallards. These long grasses are never dry except in mid-summer.

I'm not sure what's underneath the grass; rocks, or more probably, small tree stumps. The little strip of land is not accessible except with hip waders, even at low tide. And except in mid-summer, the mallards sleep and rest here.

Mallards and wigeon.

Walking on water.

Itchy, itchy!

Another Skywatch post.

Judging by appearances

Female wigeons always seem to be smiling.

Life is good.

And herons are always grumpy. Has anyone ever seen a happy heron?

"Hmmmph! Another dratted photographer! Can't even catch supper in peace!"

Interim birds

I am feeling seriously bird-deprived. Except for the sandpipers at Crescent Beach the other day and the mallards at Cougar Creek, all the birds we have seen recently have been far, far away, and mostly on their way to distant shores. We keep making plans to go to Reifel Island, but the weather and our schedules keep getting in the way. Maybe this week, as soon as the sun comes out again.

Meanwhile, I've culled a few shots from Laurie's camera, which does distances better than my prime lens. They'll serve as a temtempié* for now.

*(Temtempié, Mexican idiom for "appetizer, snack". A corruption of "tente en pie" = "keep you standing up".)

Eagle, Crescent Beach. In an unusual pose for this tribe; they tend to be just the other side of that trunk, or see, up at the top, that white spot? or soaring over the top of the hill, heading for White Rock.

The one, lonely wigeon at Cougar Creek park this month. His vibrant colours work as camouflage as long as he stays near the shore of the lake.

"After splashdown, an explorer leaves his still-glowing space capsule, unfolds his beak and legs, and takes stock: 'Let's see, there's a big, black, short-legged bird over there, a few white and grey squealers scattered around. Not much else. But it looks like I've landed in a colony of tunnellers; look at all those chimneys! Could be worth my time to stay here.'"

Okay, I'll be sensible.

Robin hiding on us in a maze of bare branches on a misty afternoon. Cougar Creek Park.