Mist hung low in the valley over the marshes and fields. It hovered ghost-like against a backdrop of evergreens, barns and distant mountains. I pulled over and got out of my car. One woman stood across the road, bundled up against the cold, with a camera as long as her arm. She stared in one direction. I scanned the other. The pre-dawn light cast the scene in a golden glow. We watched and waited. Then, without a sound, it came from behind, banked, turned, and was gone. A short eared owl.
My Skagit Valley safari started at sunrise on Samish Island where I’d gone to visit a friend the night before. While she slept in, I slipped out and started south. The turns on the Bayview-Edison Road are popular spots to pull over and look for birds. Trumpeter swans and ducks mingled together in the marshes, while long lines of snow geese flew overhead, their calls heralding their passing. Eagles and red tailed hawks perched on telephone poles and Northern Harriers glided over fields on the way to Padilla Bay where I stopped for a walk. As the sun rose and warmed my back, I set off. Green-winged teal and elegant pintail ducks shared the channel where their heads dipped into the shallows for grub. They looked like synchronized swimmers turning their tails up simultaneously, then righting themselves again.
Someone stood out in the middle of the muddy field, arms outstretched. Strange. Was it a farmer? A stray birdwatcher? Another stood in the next field, and the field beyond that. I looked with my binoculars. A scarecrow. Ah!
I recalled reading an article in the fall issue of Audubon magazine about Snow Geese. The ones we see in the Skagit are part of a population of Lesser Snow Geese that migrate from the Rio Grande, through California up the Pacific flyway, all the way to the arctic shores of Alaska and Canada where they breed. Their population has exploded in recent decades. Their numbers and the way they eat results in plants being gnawed down to the nubbins. What used to be meadows that supported several other species, look more like putting greens now. Biologists have seen it happen before in the eastern arctic, Snow Goose expansion, ecosystem destruction and population collapse.
Just a century ago, they were considered rare and hunting them was banned. But they moved from feeding on wetlands to feeding on farmland. As farms got bigger, flocks grew fatter. Their numbers swelled at an alarming rate. Trying to manage the populations across North America is the challenging task of a coalition of biologists and wildlife managers.
The flocks in the Skagit Valley are awe inspiring and attract visitors to the region each winter. Watching thousands of Snow Geese rise together like a cloud, turn as one and fly in long lines across the sky, is a wonder to behold. But the scarecrows were a reminder that something is out of balance.
A heron brooded on a piling by the old barn. I passed the weathered building and rounded a bend in the trail to find the heron now at the waters edge, alert. I stopped and watched as it slowly inched its long neck out, holding steady, like a spear. Then, a flash, a dip, and something slid down its long throat. Breakfast.
Good idea, I thought, and turned to go. Sparrows sang as the sun grew warmer and brighter. A jogger passed. Dog walkers came and went. A man with binoculars smiled. I got in my car and headed south. Just as I rounded the last turn, a low flying raptor swung across the road in front of me. A short eared owl.
This beautiful day required a stop at Christianson’s Nursery. Spring was in the air. I dreamed of many sunny days ahead, digging in the dirt, growing beautiful flowers. Many others had the same notion. I bought a few border plants and continued on my southern route to Stanwood, stopping to photograph Trumpeter and Tundra Swans, ducks, hawks and eagles as I passed.
The historic hall in Stanwood was buzzing with bird enthusiasts, artists and photographers who had come for the Snow Goose Festival. I met a few friends and then turned toward home as the sun sank into the west with a short stop at Snow Goose Produce, of course.
Driving north on Best Road, I saw in the distance a field glowing with a golden hue. Daffodils! That will draw another wave of visitors to the valley. Then the Tulip Festival after that. For me, it had been a full day and an almost full moon glowed above it all.
Maribeth
For info on the Skagit Valley Daffodil Festival and upcoming Tulip Festival click here
Republished with permission.Read the original article..