Willis Point,
Saanich Peninsula,
Vancouver Island.
June 15, 2007

Hello, Friends:

You don't have to go far to see
wildlife around here.

Incredibly (to a visitor from Europe, that is), all of the photographs on this page were taken within one week from the deck of my newly-rented boat-house, perched on a rocky point within biking distance of Victoria, the British Columbia capital.

It's quiet by this ever-changing water -- which I suppose is why there's so much to see. Mark Lane, the only road past here, comes to a dead end a mile or so further along; from there it's Shanks' pony and the network of old timber trails to Mackenzie Bight, an old native Indian (or 'First Nation' as Canadians prefer to call the peoples they displaced) settlement in a spectacularly beautiful, rocky bay. Trees -- big firs, cedars and arbutus -- are down to the water, as they are everywhere in BC.

The spot where I now lodge is on the edge of Smokehouse Bay ; the name is a clear indication of what drew people to  these parts in the hey-day of the fishing industry. Fish, they say, are nowhere near as plentiful as in the recent past -- though to someone used to the paltry catches of fished-out Europe there seems still to be a remarkable amount. The sea in front of me is never empty of prawn traps, collected and re-laid every day. Every four years the Goldstream River at the head of Finlayson arm teems with coho salmon coming home to spawn, die by the thousand and serve themselves up to gorging eagles, vultures and bears.

Down here in this grandstand spot  bald eagles are picking fish off the sea, spotting their prey from a height, collapsing sideways with wings loosely folded, then at the ultimate moment they're within reach of their prey, swinging out their talons like an aircraft undercarriage, swiping a fish and still with momentum soaring aloft again.

For days I tried to get bald eagle shots, sitting and flying; but their visual acuity is so penetratingly sharp they retreated at an eye-blink --even from inside my boat-house. They sit in a neighbouring pine-tree, chittering in their peculiar way.

The fatal lure was first an adult grey seal, washed dead on the beach beneath my deck, which instantly became meal-time for several turkey vultures besides a family of two adult and one juvenile bald eagles. Then a baby seal, washed back and forward in successive tides and quickly dismembered by the scavengers, finally drew them into the frame.

 At close quarters these eagles are incredibly handsome creatures, with their dazzling white head and tail feathers.

And this is the view from just the front of my boathouse. There are still the woodpeckers, kingfishers, hummingbirds and a host of others in the neighbouring trees to capture. I missed an otter wandering over my deck a couple of days ago. Doubtless it'll be back.

Best wishes,

Ian.

www.ianlaval.com