Free Range Photography

While there is always something fascinating going on at the river on any given day, there are those rare quiet days when I find myself furtively checking my email. However, once in awhile there are days that feel as though some sort of energetic wrinkle has rendered a gathering of extraordinary creatures right before my eyes. Today was one of those lucky days.

It turned out that within a span of about 30 minutes a Sharp-shinned Hawk, a Black-crowned Night Heron, a Coyote, and a couple of River Otters passed through the little riparian neighborhood I was observing. While none of them are technically rare, it’s been weeks since I’ve seen the hawk or an otter, months for the heron, and years for the coyote. Their appearance may be in part a signal of season change, early though it may seem.

The Hawk was present for less than a minute. A juvenile, it landed awkwardly in dense willows about 20 yards away. I had time to snap one photo before it took off, directly toward me, veering away at the last second. I’ve had that happen before and found myself identifying with a tiny songbird in way I’ll never forget. This time I was less terrified and watched the bright, penetrating eyes and flat, blade-like wings gliding toward me until turning away at the split second of realization that I was not a willow.

Then an adult Black-crowned Night Heron flew into an oak tree across the river and about 50 yards upstream. It rested there in the shadows for awhile, maybe 45 minutes or so. This species used to be more common around here, but after a long absence they seem to be becoming more regular again and for the past few years I have seen them not infrequently at this time of the year.

Next, a tawny figure with four skinny legs appeared on the gravel bar on the other side of the river, maybe 20 yards upstream. My first thought was, “That is not a deer!” It’s been a couple years since I’ve seen a Coyote by the river.

In less than a minute this wily canine cautiously crossed the gravel, had a brief sniff, relieved himself, and loped lightly away upstream. My uneducated guess based on what I could see is that it was a young male. We used to hear Coyotes singing quite often and in those days it wasn’t rare to glimpse one now and again, sometimes more than one. One morning after hearing an especially exuberant session of yips and yaps the night before, I found the fresh remains of a very young fawn a quarter mile or so downstream from my house. I have always been fond of Coyotes and enjoy the richness of their status in many cultures, but my respect for their reputation for cleverness makes me lock my smallish dog in the house at night.

Finally, pair of Otters appeared downstream, slowly working their way along the shallow edge of the water, munching crayfish and anything else they could catch as they went. I was hoping they would get out of the water and wriggle around photogenically on the rocky shore, but after such a long time without seeing them at all, which is fairly unusual this time of the year, I stifled my greed. They are always fun to watch, their fluid movement so at ease in the water, their sassy playfulness a tonic for the times.

I am convinced of the power and comfort of gratitude, but I admit to the weakness of sometimes finding it a struggle to feel thankful. A morning at the river, reconnecting with old friends, stirs a spontaneous and effortless gratitude that will stay with me for a long time.