The Great Fisher

July 4th, 2017 | Posted by in Naturalist Notes

By Smokey Brine, graduate student in the Institute’s 16th cohort

A warm summer wind funnels down the Skagit River, blowing wisps of brown hair in front of my eyes. I shift my head to regain sight of the river channel and spot a green canoe cutting the water in front of me. The three passengers are laughing at something, I can hear their muffled exclamations over the sound of the rapids chopping against my boat. I attempt to propel my kayak closer to their conversation; clearly I am missing out on some sort of hilarity with my new housemates. When I catch up the river is now calm. I look to my friends and notice their gazes are focused downriver but not at the oncoming curve. Instead, they look upward.

Further downstream the Skagit River curves south, continuing its course from high in the formidable North Cascade mountains to the Salish Sea and the Pacific Ocean. Behind me is a wall of snowy peaks cutting the sky. In front, rounded tree-covered hills roll slowly seaward. The frost-bitten-blue color of the water beneath me hints at the river’s glacial origins and it seems that the clear blue of the westward sky is not quite as beautiful as the water below.

Ahead, before the riverbend, I spot the thing that has made my friends so watchful; a dark speck is hovering above the azure water. It seems motionless, as if suspended in time. It suddenly plunges downwards and I recognize the spectacle as the osprey crashes head-and-talon first into the water. An audible gasp issues from both our boats and we watch as the enormous bird rises from the water with a large fish clutched in its talons. The luckless fish, what appears to be a trout, is limp in the bird’s grasp. The hunter is successful.  

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