as far as the estuary

In our orientation to our home on Vancouver Island for the week, our host told us that the shoreline below the cottages was ours to explore. There was a little path down to the ocean, and we should feel free to explore as far as the estuary.  He threw his arm in a wide gesture southward and shoreward.
"You must explore the estuary."

I tried to remember what an estuary was as we clambered down the steep and winding path, sometimes aided by creatively constructed wooden steps and roped rails to the shore.  Recalling grade eight geography lessons with maps of peninsulas and islands and isthmases and things you must label and define, I thought it might be a place where fresh water runs into the ocean.

But a definition does not bring you to this place ...
where currents cross back on themselves,
white sails, carried on currents
of river, ocean and wind;
shoreline covered with down,
lifted by a breeze from the rocks and carried high or set down onto one of the currents.



The near bank was dominated by the river, running steadily toward the ocean.
The tides on the far banks overwhelmed the river, carrying the feathers back inland, lifting the kelp and weeds to give homes to crab and minnow. 




At first I hoped the feathers and down may belong to an eagle, but as the families of geese kept landing we realized that this was one of their favorite places to hang out.







Careless flapping gave the eagle away as he settled on a high cedar limb, almost hidden.
Perhaps this was the baby that our host told us to look out for,
kicked out of the nest just a few days earlier.
He sat, surveying the area, out-lasting us.
   Watched the geese land on the jutting shore.
   Watched another bald eagle soar over the territory a few times before heading back inland.
Smaller birds flitted back and forth through the sunlit river crossing under his watchful eye.



Gutteral raven sounds occasionally seeped from the surrounding trees. A yellow finch blended almost into the pine cones at the towering tree's fingertips, dropping too quickly for my binoculars to trace the first time. Second time I knew enough to keep the looking glass dropping till we both landed on shore.

 

estuary

 conflicting currents

salt tide and fresh stream

 eddies of water and wind

you must explore the estuary