I walk the Harrison trail to the big lake taking my brimmed four-dent hat for the rain that will likely come.
It is very calm, but it would be a black and white day were this most other places in the north, places where snow lies on the ground and in the tree branches. But, here in the northwest, where we seldom have snow, the color green is added to the greyscale tones. My paddle, with its red design on one side of the blade stands out like a flare in a night sky.
When I get to the bay, I spot an eagle in an evergreen perch. There is a second eagle farther north in another evergreen. The honk of a Canada goose draws my eyes to shore and I find an otter rolling around on a low floating dock. It slinks off and while I wait for it to reappear, which it never does, I spot a great blue heron on the shore. Movement in the water to my right is a pair of pied billed grebes. A sprinkle turns into a steady sprinkle with all quiet and still except for the tapping of raindrops.
As I move north, I find that there are two eagles where I though that there had been one, and two more perched and shitting on the peak of an obnoxious boat house. I think for a moment that I might like to shit on it also.
So that is five eagles here today, all facing the bay, waiting for the hunt. I grab the last tire from railroad islands and head for my dump site. A small island of mud near that spot has played host to many green winged teal this winter. I don't remember seeing so many in earlier winters, but there are usually a dozen or so here. As I leave this area I notice that the beaver from the west lodge have been working the nearby trees over quite well. It's good to see. The sprinkle has become rain.
There are two dozen common mergansers in the crossing under place, moving past me to the east as I head into Portage Bay. At the takeout, above the beaver lodge is an immature eagle, making six for the day. It is raining hard.