Wildlife from my window

One of the things I love most about where we currently live is the view. Each morning, as soon as the sun rises over the mountains behind us, it bathes everything in warmth and light. That is, when it's sunny. But since it's already been that way for much of this spring, I'm hopeful summer might just follow suit. All weekend, daytime temps stayed in the upper 50s and low 60s and this week is expected to continue that way... fingers and not-freezing toes crossed!



Since my significant other has been waking up very early for work, I've been getting up when he does. It's actually surprisingly easy to wake up when the sun is already high in the sky (today's sunrise was at 4:54 a.m.; sunset is at 8:57 p.m.). So if it's only 7 in the morning, but looks like 9 or 10, what other choice is there but to take advantage of these gorgeous days while we have them?

I'm not the only one capitalizing on this extra burst of nature-inspired energy. All around us, the animals have emerged from their winter hiding places. Sitka Black-Tailed Deer have materialized from the trees in force (it appears that winter has been mostly good to them) to feast on new roadside vegetation. The deer have appeared in such numbers that I'm always on the lookout for these gangly-legged jaywalkers or gawking drivers who have pulled over. Black bears, skinny from winter hibernation, have also emerged to munch precious new shoots and skunk cabbage in the ditches. And everywhere, birds flit about like determined postal carriers, their beaks stuffed full of nesting material.

We have so many different kinds of birds near our house I'm constantly reminded that I have a long way to go in being able to identify them all. "That's a black and white-headed sea duck..." I find myself musing with chagrin.

This one, though, is definitely a kingfisher and lives up to its namesake.

Below the four northeast facing windows of our cabin, sea life has been abundant. One permanent neighbor is an elderly river otter who lives in a nearby cave in the rocks. Every day when the water is calm we can spot him if we look, white whiskers leading the way as he swims on what looks like a set path along the edge of shore.

But the other day when the water was particularly calm and clear, I spotted him taking a dip in the shallows and then disappearing into the trees on land.

A furry mink has also been a regular visitor, scurrying just below the cabin. It's one of the cutest things I've ever seen, almost catlike with impossibly fluffy-looking fur.




Here it is again- photo taken today- right below the window:

We regularly see Steller sea lions and harbor seals in the water below the cabin. And far off in the distance we can also spot humpback whales diving for fish- without binoculars we spot them by their exhalation, a plume of white against cobalt seas and spruce-covered mountains. At night, we've heard them breech, throwing their whole bodies out of the water and smacking the surface on the return like a sonic-boom. The sound is unmistakable, stopping us in our tracks as we make dinner or brush our teeth to look at each other and smile: we are not alone. Not even close.