Dungeness Bay Birds: Waterfowl World from a Kayak

What an incredible day! A new moon, extreme tides, and absolutely gorgeous weather made for a perfect paddle to the Dungeness Lighthouse and back.  I always knew Dungeness Bay was shallow – but just how shallow was revealed as the tide rolled back to a -2. At this level, the steam from the morning sun rises in a smoky fog from the mudflats, and expansive fields of bright green algae are nakedly exposed. We watched the depths carefully to weave our way through a channel barely deep enough to float our boats. The sea was flat-calm enough to mirror the clouds – could this be saltwater?

Dungeness Bay, bordered by the Dungeness Spit and the Dungeness National Wildlife Refuge, is home to a wide assortment of wildlife. We routinely see seals here – even an occasional sea lion – as well as a lone coyote now and then. The water is so clear, you can spot crab crawling around on the bottom. But most amazing of all: the birds! It is said that over 250 species of birds live here; thousands upon thousands migrate through.

The spit itself is 5.5 miles long; you can walk its length on the western shore. The eastern side of the spit, and along the extension of Graveyard Spit, however, is off-limits to human traffic – which is why it is best to explore the area by the water side.

And as often as I have been there, on this particular day, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many birds so busy and so enjoying the morning!

Gulls, social creatures that they are, normally flock in the hundreds to maybe thousands. They seemed to be having a convention at the water’s edge, and everybody squawking about it. By contrast, an occasional solitary heron waded here and there.

A great variety of ducks: assorted scoters, scaups, merganzers, buffleheads, among them. The scoters are particularly humorous – they are a somewhat heavy bird that seems to have to run across the water to get enough speed for take-off, complaining about it the entire way.

The Caspian Terns have returned to the Northwest. They are a dramatic bird, rising to get momentum and then plummeting straight down to catch their fish in a splash! (That was definitely the picture that got away.) Their long sculpted wings with black tips, white sleek bodies, and bright red contrasting beaks give them a graceful elegance not seen in other birds.

Just as amazing, the flocks of Sanderlings with their coordinated display of aerial maneuvers. They fly in tight groups, first one direction, and then suddenly, an opposite direction. The sun catches the underside of their wings, making them flash silver in the light. They twist and turn erratically in the air, flashing bright, then dark, then bright again. How they can know when to turn is phenomenal.

Meanwhile, sandpiper-like birds scurry along the shore, poking their bills into the mud. Based on the dark underbelly, I think these must be Dunlins.

Lots of geese out, too. Flocks of geese, including the Black Brants, which are a true sea bird – they can drink saltwater – gather along the shoreline. The Canadian Geese are serene and almost tame on the lighthouse lawn.

And what would be the day without eagles? The more I am around them, the more I am attracted to the juveniles. From afar, I spotted a large piece of driftwood on the flats, but as I got closer, I realized it was this condor-sized juvenile eagle, brown and scruffy looking, unwilling to move until I approached too closely. A half-dozen of them hung out on a temporarily exposed island.

Back at the boat launch, several more hung out in the trees, waiting for an opportunity to steal fish scraps from the gulls. It always amazes me how smaller birds will boldly chase off these humongous birds of prey that could easily make mincemeat of them in mid-air, if they chose to do so.

I have to apologize for the quality of these pictures. They don’t even come close to capturing the day. I have a little Canon PowerShot, which is a good point-and-shoot camera that fits nicely in a waterproof housing. But on a sunny day (not that I am complaining about sunshine!), it is almost impossible to see the view screen, and trying to peer through the viewfinder is not much better. Any good shots I get are not from skill–just a lucky stab in the light.

By far, the best way to watch seabirds is not through a camera lens but from a kayak. It is much easier to quietly sneak up on them from the water or to pretend you are just some oversized log drifting along. I have yet to be successful capturing the beauty of this special place on film or pixel. Best to just get out and enjoy it!