The Gift of a Storm

Well, so much for the wonderful sunny break we had from weather reality.  The rain is back, the wind is gusting and the ducks are huddled in the spare shelter of the shore grass, heads into the wind.   The storms at sea have been significant, as seen in the stormy waves booming up closer and heavier on the beach.

It's a good day to go down to the mouth of the Columbia and see what's cooking.   Strong onshore winds force in birds that would normally not come near shore.  Storm-petrels are robin-size birds that live at sea most of their lives.  They are tough little guys.   I always think of big, burly birds, maybe albatrosses, being sea-worthy.  But when you think of the power of the vast and trackless sea, what does a few pounds matter?  There are several small pelagic (sea-going) birds that do just fine on the towering twenty-foot swells. 

I was lucky enough to see one of the most beautiful storm-petrels last year.  I had climbed up the viewing platform at the well-known Parking Lot C in Ft. Stevens State Park, in the far NW corner of Oregon.  The platform is made of heavy,sturdy wood, but when there's a storm, the entire structure shudders when a wave hits the jetty, a mere 30 feet away.  It is awesome, in the truest sense of the word.  As you reach the top of the platform, the wind will give you a good shove back, just to make sure you're on your toes.  Rain mixes with water blown off of the tops of the waves to provide a good soaking.  What a great place!

If you can keep your optics clear of water, there can be a lot to see in the corner water between the beach and the jetty.  This day I was so lucky.  I saw what looked like a very light-colored bird walking on top of the smooth water between the waves.  I pulled out my ID book to find that it was a fork-tailed storm petrel.  A new one for me. 
The wonderful thing about storm petrels is that they feed by hovering just above the water, so that their feet just touch the waves.  It looks like they're dancing.  This little bird adeptly dodged the big swells, flying up and over, effortlessly coming down  to tiptoe on the water again. 

For the bird, this is food gathering behavior; nothing more.  But for a drenched, wind-driven human, it was pure magic to watch the delicate ballet of a tiny bit of vibrant life, making his way in the harsh north Pacific.