I had the joy and privilege of being the camp host of the Chilkoot Lake campground for a few years after the pandemic. It was a wonderful time to assume that role of stewardship. The campground was relatively quiet after the international quarantine. It afforded me the opportunity to enjoy bicycling, kayaking, fishing, and generally watching and helping to watch over the wildlife. This tale is more about how the wildlife watched over me. Close encounters with a bald eagle.
One of my favorite things to do would be kayaking early in the morning. A quiet calm lake. No over-sized motorized plastic canoes offering “nature” experiences by the local tour companies. Just me and the mountains and the critters. From my camp I would often paddle over to the salmon spawning grounds. The Sitka spruce and western hemlock are draped in the lichen known as “Old Man’s Beard.” This lichen resembles Spanish moss. (For the record, Spanish Moss is neither Spanish, nor moss.) The local lichen is a symbiotic marriage between algae and fungus. It is a biomarker used as a barometer of air quality. The abundance of this lichen is a reflection of the purity of the air in this country. (The shared joke is that the fungus (Freddy Fungus) is a builder that creates a kitchen for the algae (Annie Algae) who is a wonderful chef who cooks meals for Freddy, providing the energy needed to maintain the house … they took a liking (lichen) to one another. Sorry about that!) Sometimes there are bears pouncing on the spawning salmon. Often there are Great Blue Heron perched high in the spruce. Paddling along the shore I loose count of all the waterfalls draining the upper glacial basins of melting snow. If this place were in the lower 48 states it would be a national park. In Alaska, it is merely a state recreation area.
In the spring I frequent a small cove around the corner from camp on the way over to the spawning grounds. It provides some nice fishing in the spring as the salmon hatch. As I spend time in this cove, I notice an eagle perched along the shore. He keeps a regular eye on his neighborhood. One fine calm morning, I paddle along in my Klepper kayak. My fishing pole drags my line along. Minding my own business, the peace is punctuated with a sense of urgency. I see this bald eagle heading directly for me, perhaps five feet off the water. This bird of prey now resembles a Klingon bird of prey. Flappy flaps are not flapping at all. Wings are fixed and trim for approach, which is happening fast. Phaser eyes are set for stun. No sign of any smile. This bird of prey has me thinking perhaps I should pray as well.
Having seen Lord of the Rings more times that I can recall, I channel Gandalf and set my paddle like a wizard’s staff in front of me. YOU SHALL NOT PASS! My incoming challenger banks to starboard. He clips his wing on the paddle, causing him to lose his cool and he tumbled into the lake. OH SHIT! Happy to say no damage was done. He regains composure, shakes it off, and launches away. He is no worse for wizard’s ware.
Perhaps he has learned his lesson.
In the course of my tours, I like giving people fun facts about bald eagles. One of my favorites is the fact that hatchling eagles weigh about two ounces when they emerge from their shell. At the end of 10 weeks, they are about full grown at around 12 pounds. If you took an average human baby and let it grow at the same rate, the baby would weigh 500 lbs after 10 weeks. And eagles have a wingspan of about 6 feet. All of which is to say we know that eagles are large birds. We know this in our minds. Occasionally we get to understand this in other parts of our bodies.
The next morning I am out on the cove again. I am having a profitable time. I caught a decent-sized Dolly Varden (similar to a trout, but actually a Char). It is now on a stringer and trailing behind me as I paddle along. I am unsuspecting of anything but a beautiful and bountiful day. Suddenly, I have an eagle’s wingtip about 12 inches from my left ear. My nemesis soars by with my fish in its talons. It learned from the previous day and came up behind me to swoop in and take my fish. As it flew off, this buccaneer bird dropped the catch, so neither of us got to enjoy breakfast. I have now named the cove “Pirate’s Cove” and learned to use a shorter stringer to trail my catch.
Somewhat Related blogs
How I spent my panademic vacation: https://timenspace.net/2020/08/10/pandemic-paradox-making-the-best-of-the-worst-is-an-option/
Desert distancing during the pandemic: https://timenspace.net/2020/05/04/desert-distancing-saline-valley-chronicles/
On photographing eagles: https://timenspace.net/2017/06/12/photographing-bald-eagles/
Alaska Department of Natural Resources: Chilkoot Lake State Recreation Area
If you are interested in exploring Alaska with me, you might want to make Haines a destination. Join me for a private photography workshop. Best deal in town! Here is some of what I offer: PHOTOGRAPHY WORKSHOPS
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Always enjoy your posts Tom. It’s fascinating to me how you managed to hold up your camera to get that pic AND hold an oar up for safety. I’m guessing that the pic came first, probably with a little zoom and, once you realized the trajectory, you quickly opted for the oar!
As far as the eagle’s strategy, it’s only human arrogance that keeps us from realizing that ALL the species on this planet are evolving.
Full disclosure those photos were taken at a different “time and space” and transposed into the blog through the miracle of modern digitology.