Boundary Bay is a haven for birds, birders, bird photographers, and bird murderers, aka duck hunters. Also joggers, dog walkers, regular walkers, and cyclists. All these interest groups share a narrow strip of land that amounts to a gravel pathway and the last vestige of mudflats in the greater Vancouver area.
Whats left of these mudflats contains one of the densest wintering populations of waterfowl/raptors/shorebirds in North America. During my time as a birder I have witnessed snowy, long-eared, short-eared, and Barn Owls, sometimes all in one day. Peregrine and gyr Falcons, coyotes, mink. Rare shorebirds like Red-necked stints, Bar-tailed Godwits, Sharp-tailed Sandpipers, among the gigantic flocks of migrating shorebirds in September and October.
Since renouncing birding and shifting towards Landscape Photography, Boundary Bay has had less to offer me. But there are a few spots that I visit each year in hopes of achieving one of the magnificent shots we all dream of.
"The Pilings"(I dont even know if thats the formal name, but it was always a reference point birders used for a group log posts jutting out from the mud) Well what else would you call them? Anyway, to this group of "Pilings" I return each winter, to try and squeeze out a decent photo. Two years ago I did witness a hallucinatory Sunrise, but the composition and the pilings themselves were quite unbecoming.
Boundary Bay rarely has the normal conditions of an ocean; when the tide is out the mudflats stretch almost endlessly, they also stink to high heavens. And when the tide is in, it still stinks to high heavens; and the water is of the murkiness of a kahlua mudslide.
These were the obstacles on my mind as I started the pre-sunrise trek of a couple of km or so from the car to the pilings. I had about an hour to go to sunrise, and the first thing I noticed was a brilliant crescent moon rising. I wasn't expecting a moon rise, but it was a lovely surprise.
The second even lovelier surprise greeted me as I arrived at the pilings. An adult Bald Eagle perched, with the moon rising above it, while the pre-dawn colors started flaring up.
It was one of those moments photographers hope for, but I had to change lenses and take the photo without scaring off the Eagle. I slowly and carefully sat down, crouched down, changed lenses, and set the camera on my tripod.
Thankfully, the Eagle seemed immune to my presence. I focused and took a few shots, using the 10-second timer so the vibrations of pressing the shutter would subside before the camera would take the photo. The Eagle also did its part in obliging it not to move during the slow exposures.
I guess while changing lenses some dirt got on the sensor, raw image has bunch of blobs on the lower right that I had to erase from the photo.Â
Once the Bald Eagle took off, my next move was getting down and dirty and going into the mud to get closer to the pilings. There isnt much prettiness to find on these shores, luckily for me a nice piece of driftwood that gave me a leading line.Â
The way the clouds were forming, the sun would be hidden for sunrise.Â
I switched from my Wide angle to my Nokoton 40mm, a lens I have been using more and more and starting to get better results. With the below image being the best yet.Â
Boundary Bay is home to a large population of wintering Dunlin, a small shorebird that travels in swirling flocks. These flocks attract a number of predators including Pregrine Falcons, that can often be seen diving down from out of nowhwere to single out a straggling Dunlin.Â
The sun was starting to appear above the clouds, with my sigma 100-400 caught this Gull flying past a mushroom type formation of clouds.
On my way back i had an even closer encounter with a Bald Eagle, atop one of the trees along the dyke trail.Â
And that was the end of my rewarding morning at Boundary Bay
-Ryan