I'm Drifting In The Clear Shallows Of The Squamish River, Eyes Gaping And Ears Pricked For

摘要

Signs of avian life. Just 40 miles north of bustling Vancouver, British Columbia, sits one of the top viewing spots for wintering bald eagles. Six of us and a guide float through morning silence in a yellow inflatable, paddles still, our caps and woolens fending off a frigid January drizzle. Clouds shroud the glacial heads of Mts. Garibaldi and Mamquam and theTantalus Range. Mist tucks into spruce and hemlock. Someone told me you can see 60 eagles in a tree here, but I'm beginning to suspect that's as credible as the tale of the 100-pound trout. Most years, between late November and early February, 3,000 to 4,000 bald eagles from across western North America converge to roost where the Mamquam and Cheakamus Rivers join the Squamish. Like ravenous diners at an all-you-can-eat buffet, they gorge on dying chum salmon that have forged their way up from Howe Sound to spawn. The opportunistic raptors share a 1,865-acre smorgasbord, Brackendale Eagles Provincial Park, with some 150 bird species. Fifteen years ago, Brackendale heralded a world record: 3,769 bald eagles counted in a single day.