BIRDERS
For the birder who likes to paddle with binoculars at the ready and a bird book close at hand, these waters will certainly add pleasure to your paddling. You may see Harlequin ducks, Grebes, Goldeneyes, Mergansers, Great Blue Herons or the rare Marbles Murrelet to name a few.

It started just as we were unloading the boats on the beach, just a few drops of rain here and there. On this mid winter day we are eager to get on the water to enjoy the rafts of birds that winter on our coast.  The winds are quiet making it an ideal day for birding. Such a gentle rain and a weak sun glows through the thin cloud cover. The rain can't last.



As we leave Gibsons harbour heading across the gap towards Keats Island a Common Loon dives and reappears before us. Bodhi tries a creditable loon call in an effort to invoke a response. No luck, he's too busy fishing. The ebb tide carries us easily across the gap into a heavy mist hanging from the sky.



A piercing, repeated Wheep, Wheep announces the presence of the Black Oystercatcher. Sure enough, there is a group of large, chunky black birds on the shores of Home Island picking through the seaweed in the intertidal zone with their long, chisel tipped red bills.



Turning east along the southern face of Keats the first quiet bay opens. Is that a Hooded Merganser with that characteristic white marking on his crest? Out come the binoculars confirming the sighting. Such an elegant looking bird!



This rain is now a steady drizzle falling straight into a smooth sea. We zip up our paddling jackets, pull up our hoods and paddle on, faces bathed in rain but otherwise perfectly dry.



Rounding a low rocky point five Harlequin ducks appear at the waters edge, the dark slate grey of their bodies and the vivid rust of their sides highlighted by an intricate pattern of white flashes over the head and wings. These uncommon and shy birds are obviously nervous and alert as we drift quietly by. It appears that the rain has altered their usual pattern of flight at first sight giving us the closest and longest look we have ever had of them. A magical moment.



It is truly pouring rain now, big fat drops hurtling down to explode on the surface in thousands of tiny eruptions leaving a bubble in their wake. The size of a looney, these bubbles cover the water as far as the eye can see, a living, dancing texture on that flat sea. A gentle rustling sound fills the air as we silently slip along.



Through this curtain of rain we see flocks of black Surf Scoters and Barrow's Goldeneyes around us, they too keeping their place as we pass. Scanning the flock we see among them some Buffleheads with their startling white crest and underbelly. A couple of small grebes glide and dive along the rocks. Are they Eared or Horned Grebes? In their drab winter colours it is difficult to distinguish them and we can't get a good enough look to be sure.



Graceful white shafts rise out of the water ahead of us like an Art Nouveau drawing. The long, swanlike neck, the black cap extending down the back of the neck and the slim, yellow bill tell us this is a Western Grebe. These lovely birds spend the winters in flocks in quiet bays along the coast, leaving each spring to raise their young on prairie sloughs.



Around another rocky point a pair of river otters are rolling across the surface. They see us and are gone. We wait, watching intently for their reappearance, but they have vanished.



Out on Barfleur Passage we spot a few small, squat black and white birds diving repeatedly, Marbled Murrelets fishing in the moving water. Another five or six materialize, flying in a line just above the water. They drop to the surface and immediately begin the business of diving for prey.



Eastbourne and the government dock emerge out of the mist. We have been paddling for well over an hour now and this is a good place to stretch our legs. But if we get out of the boat we're going to get soaked! We pull in under the pier out of the rain and drink tea, eat muffins and stay dry. Refreshed, we set out again.



Fraunk, fraunk. A Blue Heron drops off a branch over hanging the water to move along to the next vantage point. After a couple of passes he tires of the game and sits still as we paddle past.



There on the shore in the underbrush just 10 feet away we spot a Bald Eagle. This is most unusual. Is he injured? We pull in a little closer, uncertain of what to do. If he is hurt, we should try to rescue him. Take him home in a kayak. How absurd! Ah! but it looks like he is feeding. We retreat quickly as he is moving freely, obviously hiding in the undergrowth to enjoy his catch.



It's eagle paradise today on Thornbourgh Channel. We count twelve eagles soaring out to the centre of the channel, dropping to the surface, presumably to feed, then returning to the snags on the shoreline to await the next foray. Must be good fishing out there.



Moving down the coast of Keats toward home we hear the rattle of the Kingfisher. Easy to identify with his large crested head and distinctive swooping flight pattern, we see them perched above the water or hovering in readiness for that dramatic plunge into the sea.




The rain is letting up a bit as we head across the channel toward the harbour. One final treat on this amazing day of birding, we catch sight of a small duck with a slender bill. A smooth black covers the head and back with white underparts. This is an unfamiliar bird and causes frantic searching through the field guide. Aha, this is it, a Common Murre. Another bird to add to our list!



Later, sitting in the local cafe sipping Cappuccino and talking over the trip, we reflect on our good fortune living on the doorstep of such enriching experiences.