Boid watching

So one day we all went on this little tour several kilometers south of Whistler Village to watch bald eagles, who make their nests in the high trees along streams and rivers. On a spectacularly snowy day, we could see the black forms of the great birds huddled in groups of four or five on the trees, some making their high-pitched chirping sounds through the falling snow and the sounds of the water, others taking flight to look for salmon, who swim upstream to spawn and die shortly thereafter. The first picture shows us catching sight of the eagles in the distance. Rowan, meanwhile, receives a rare treat when he sees his first moose--oh, wait...that's Por-por. Sorry...

Picture number two: an awkward moment. We visited a hatchery where the salmon are robbed of their eggs and their lifeless corpses thrown into the nearby river where the eagles swoop down to feed. We thought we might be able to watch the eagles attacking the great, ruddy fish, but they remained patiently on their roosts, waiting for us to leave. So we had this picture snapped of the Cheungs (and a couple Traverses) taking shelter from the snow under a canopy. There would be no carnage today.

Later that day, after an exquisite lunch along one of the main banks of the river, a blizzard came. We were inundated with snow, the ride back to Whistler taking almost and hour and a half (as opposed to the original twenty minutes). Rowan wept for hunger. Though the weather was bad, we knew the skiing the following day would be spectacular.