We held nose-into the current at Buoy 10, nearly 100-strong in the fleet of salmon anglers, waiting in anticipation as the tide began to tip the red can and the flood began.
…And waiting, waiting, waiting…
Finally! A black cloud appeared on the horizon, drawing ever closer, taunting us with its promise.
Then they were nearly to the Buoy 10 deadline, thousands of birds swirling, diving, following hapless baitfish being swept sideways and upside down by the same conflicted current about to twist our lines.
Below, the confusion was a cornucopia for salmon, also feasting on dazed prey.
The birds finally passed the buoy, surrounding us as the bite began.
Dozens of boats at a time hooked up, lines charging in all directions, nets flying, birds flying.
The melee had begun…the birds a barometer…a wish come true.
That was years ago, when sooty shearwaters seemed to outnumber salmon.
“I love the birds,” said son Bill Monroe Jr. last week, as he guided our boat safely across a snarky Peacock Spit onto a docile ocean and headed toward circling shearwaters. “I fish where the birds do.”
Like many guides – and like all of us anglers should – Bill has expanded his knowledge of the world around him; a world resplendent in its intricate diversity and different in every venue we fish.
As an angler and hunter, I’ve long been fascinated by the world of birds and find more than simple pleasure in seeing feathered treasures everywhere, from our own backyard to elk country, around mountain trout streams, bass ponds, the Columbia Gorge, Buoy 10 and on far out to sea.
From albatross far from sight of land to gray jays near mountaintops, I find solace every day, whether or not I catch or kill my own quarry.
And you should too.
We all need to care for our precious resources and pay close attention to the natural world from which we extract our bits of bounty.
We’ll try that here occasionally, starting with Buoy 10.
About those shearwaters: They’re mostly sooty shearwaters, a species that nests in New Zealand and summers here, kind of a reverse migration since it’s winter down under.
Shearwaters typically stay offshore, but will congest in the Columbia entrance when bait is plentiful and a few occasionally come into the lower estuary.
Pelicans: Both species of the graceful brown and white pelicans are common in the estuary, although white pelicans usually remain east of Tongue Point and have far different feeding habits.
Brown pelicans, like the shearwaters, nest well south of us, but only from California to Mexico on this coast.
They also come north to feed and if you see them working a location in the bay they’re not behaving like gulls scavenging scraps from a sea lion kill. Beneath them are schools of bait, and possibly some hungry salmon.
White pelicans are an inland Oregon species that nest in desert marshes.
Those we see up and down the Columbia this time of year are most likely youngsters roaming around like teenagers in new cars.
White pelicans feed by finding fish, crawfish and frogs/amphibians near shorelines. They usually work in crowds, herding their prey ever closer to the shallows where they can scoop up mouth…er…beak-fulls.
Seagulls: No such animal exists.
Gulls: There are approximately a dozen gull species in the state, many of which are in the estuary, so ubiquitous the most common subspecies are difficult to tell apart; except for my two favorites – which aren’t quite as common daily sightings.
One is the black-headed Sabine’s gull, which also is the middle name of our granddaughter (her parents are both bird biologists).
The other is the Heerman’s gull, a gorgeous gray-plumed bird with a bright-orange beak that doesn’t often (but will) join the melee above a feeding sea lion.
Gulls have some of the toughest stomachs on earth, with acids capable of dissolving bones.
They also have open, see-through nostrils with unique desalinization glands that filter salt from the water they consume.
Cormorants: Ah yes, birds we love to hate.
There are three species in Oregon – Brandt’s, pelagic and double-crested.
The first two stay on ocean shorelines, although might once in a while venture in a bit.
It’s the double-crested which are most often vilified for feeding on schooled fish, including young salmon and steelhead.
And not only on the coast, but across the state wherever water and fish are found.
Humans have created ideal nesting areas in the estuary at both Rice and Sand islands and, more recently, along the Astoria-Megler bridge.
There’s a major effort to get them off the bridge and bald eagles are beginning to work some of the nesting colonies, but it’s a work in progress.
Between bites? Look around and experience nature’s spectacle.