The hike starts with wind rushing over two sets of raven wings followed by an eagle’s complaint. We are feet from the trail head, far away from the big birds’ feeding ground which makes it a strange place for them to roost. The ravens flew low over my head. Maybe I should have recognized it as a warning but was too taken by the lovely whooshing sound they made with their wings.

Aki dashes down the trail to wait with patience where the forest gives way to beach. Together we parallel the river and head toward its mouth. It’s in the mid-fifties so I left my coat in the car. The tide’s out but we hug some bluffs lining the opposite side of the beach from water to give feeding waterfowl some space. 

These bluffs are scalloped with a series of dry bays and topped with a heavily wooded slope. When we find someone’s abandoned campsite in the back of one of the bays I get out the picnic I packed in and sit down for a meal. We can see the river from here and watch a line of ravens dig for food in the waterside mud. Halfway through my sandwich a chorus of raven calls erupt from the trees above us. As if responding the riverside ravens fly straight at us and then veer  sharply into the trees.

The new arrivals join the other ravens in casting what sounds like foul abuse at Aki and I. Quickly finishing our meal we move away from the bluffs to see who is making all the noise. Here and there purple black raven feathers show through the green wall of trees above the bluffs but I can only see the face of one bird. Their sound rises like a chimpanzee opera as we walk further along the bluff. Is this their holy place — so sacred the we profaned it with our presence? It could be a nesting site but most of the raven nests I’ve seen have been stand alone affairs. 

The ravens quiet down after driving us from their place. Down the beach a bald eagle flies over our head toward a huge raft of surf scoters. Already moving away from the beach in a nervous “v” shaped formation, the scoters panic into flight as the eagle flies over them and then returns with empty talons to the trees.

Apparently shaken by being cruised by the eagle the scoters break formation and sing our their hysterical song of warning. We find another, calmer raft of scoters near the river mouth where we start to retrace our steps. Something in the water spooks this raft and most of the scoters burst into flight and join the upriver group. We stop when reaching the raft that is now several hundred birds strong.

We have a choice now –do we walk back alone the bluffs, disturbing the raven’s temple or hang near the river and make the scoters uncomfortable. Since the scoters don’t seem to react to our presence I chose the river route where we can water the surf scoters dive and splash and feed. The sun breaks the overcast to sparkle on the water and shine on their orange and white beaks.