This morning the fog lifted and I took Jet, the dog, for a walk in Deas Island Park. On the way we passed the dredge ‘Titan’ heading upriver with a vast cloud of seagulls flying behind and settling on the water. Clearly the prop of the dredge was pulling delicious morsels to the surface of the river and every seagull for miles around had come to enjoy the feast.
At the park I looked for signs of new plant life and found none, although perhaps the grass was a shade greener (we see what we want to see). The bald eagles, however, were responding to a day of warm sunshine. One mature pair were sitting in the huge nest, checking it out, staking their claim. A young eagle flew around hopefully for a while but when he wandered off the pair left the nest, each with some chunk of food in their talons – maybe a tasty hunk of rotting salmon from the river bank. They ate in leisurely fashion, checking out the dog and I between ripping away with the curved beak.
On the way home I saw one or two other eagles in the leafless cottonwoods along the river and I wondered why they had left the crowds of eagles at Brackendale and along the Harrison River. Maybe they preferred to see what the dredge stirred up?