This stretch along the Russian River, just over the hill from Riverfront Park, at times seems like a river otter highway. It’s a rare occasion when I don’t see an otter or two while I’m here. When I least expect it there they are, but always from a distance. My encounter today with otters was definitely out of the ordinary and unlike any that I’d had in the past.
I was relaxing on these flat rocks a few feet from the edge of the river, it was late afternoon. The group of kids who had been making quite a racket downriver from me had just left. Finally it was quiet. Having just returned to my chair from a refreshing swim, I was drying off on the rocks, digging the solitude and watching the green river on its slow slide to the Pacific. My eyes were closed, my body gratefully soaking up the warmth of the sun when I heard a soft snuffling sound similar to that of a pig. I opened my eyes to find four river otters, their furry heads and puppy dog like faces looking directly at me, from the water just off the edge of the rocks not ten feet from where I sat. Their natural curiosity as intelligent animals must have gotten the best of them, they just had to come and see what this naked human was doing in their house. We looked directly at each other for perhaps 10-15 seconds. I was amazed at how human-like their eyes are. As soon as I made a slight movement they dipped below the surface of the river and were gone. The coolest thing about this encounter was that for those brief few seconds the otters and I had a real connection. I can only wonder what they were thinking. A moment later they reappeared along the opposite bank of the river. I always bring my binoculars when I come here so I was able to watch them for several minutes as they frolicked among the willows and water hyacinth; mom, dad and the kids out for a late afternoon foray. I marvel at the sleekness of their bodies, nature’s perfect design for water travel. I watch them glide effortlessly, disappearing in a flash, only to reappear a moment later further downriver.
Today’s encounter filled me with joy and wonder. I felt blessed to have been chosen by this otter family for an up close and personal visit. This was a magical experience for sure at a place where magic is a regular occurrence.
My most memorable moments in nature have been those that were the least expected. A case in point was on a secluded beach along the Russian River today.
To get to this secluded spot Carol and I had to hike about 45 minutes from the parking lot at Riverfront Park. It was a Tuesday afternoon so our car was only one of about a dozen. The ability to avoid weekend crowds is a fringe benefit of retirement. Today is warm and sunny and bright blue. We head down a wide trail, sticking to the edges where the sun angles through the redwood forest, providing us with plenty of dappled shade. We walked in silence, the shuffling of our feet through the dust and pebbles the only sound. Bird life abounds along this trail, the distinctive call of the Spotted Towhee was a pleasant accompaniment to our hike. We saw no other people. This trail circles the glittering gem of Lake Benoist, its cobalt blue waters ringed by emerald green water hyacinth. At the far end of the lake is a spur trail which connects to a second trail that eventually leads to our spot along the Russian River. This spur is overgrown with blackberries and it’s easy to miss even if you’ve walked here many times like I had. We gingerly picked our way uphill through blackberries and poison oak to the second trail. After a hundred yards or so we were looking down on a lazy bend in the river; green and languid on its slow slide to the Pacific Ocean 22 miles to the west of us at Jenner. From here the trail enters the dappled cool of a redwood forest. I looked down into a small eddy below our trail and noticed a half dozen torpedo shaped fish pointing motionless upstream. These were some of the largest fish I’d even seen in the river, several of them looked to be at least three feet in length. Our destination was just up ahead. We half slid, half walked down a steep hill using redwood saplings as handholds and made it to a small rocky beach. This spot is hard to find and not widely known. It was ours for the duration of the afternoon.
Tiny bits of fluff and detritus from the surrounding forest was sprinkled atop the river’s surface, otherwise the water was clear as can be, the sandy bottom clearly visible. Closest to the beach, the water was alive with small darting fish, the current barely perceptible. A slight breeze gave voice to the trees, the air was peppered with the peeps and chips of unseen songbirds, otherwise the quiet was absolute. We settled in, ready to sink into the solitude of this place. Carol and I were hitting the “pause” button, taking a much needed break from the din and insanity that is the world in 2022.
Diving into the cool, emerald waters of the Russian River was a baptism, cleansing for body and soul alike. I sank in up to my neck, positioned myself at eye level with the current and just allowed the river to flow past me. While floating on my back, the view was all blue sky and towering trees. We brought no books or cell phones. Our conversations were minimal which allowed us to have our own private dialogue with the natural beauty surrounding us.
Tiny miracles kept popping up. A raft of twenty nine ( I counted ‘em) mergansers appeared seemingly out of nowhere. These are such stunning looking ducks, their head feathers glowed like copper in the afternoon sun. They were in no hurry as they swam upriver past us. A belted kingfisher announced itself with a distinctive chattering call. We watched it hunt from its perch in a willow tree. The bird and us were both rewarded when one of its dives yielded a tiny, black fish. How cool to witness the predator/prey relationship in real time. An osprey gave itself away with a high pitched “cheep, cheep”. We spied it nestled like an ornament atop a redwood tree just downriver from our beach. We almost always see a river otter or two in the river here. In the back of my mind I was expecting to see one today, which is exactly why I think we didn’t see one. I’ve learned that it’s best to enter nature with an open mind, an open heart and as few expectations as possible. Be open to the magic and just maybe you’ll be there when it occurs. Which brings me to the eagle.
It was this close!
A year or so ago, reports of bald eagle sightings around the lakes at Riverfront Park started coming in. On a couple of occasions, Carol and I were fortunate enough to have seen this majestic bird soaring high above us or sitting atop one of the redwood trees that line the west end of the lake. These were distant views however, brought closer with the help of binoculars. Our encounter today with a bald eagle was a bit more personal.
Having just awoken from naps, we were deep into the Zen like quality of our day when the silence was broken by the rush of wind through wings. Carol and I looked upon at that instant to see a huge bald eagle flying directly above our heads. I had no time to grab my binoculars but didn’t need them. This bird was maybe twenty feet above us. It was so close that I could see its powerful wing muscles pumping and make out details in its feathers. It’s pointed yellow beak, pure white head, yellow eyes and coal black feathers were all in motion. This bird flew with intensity and purpose. In a matter of seconds the enormous power from its nearly three foot wingspan carried it past us, up above the trees and into the forest. This encounter was short, it came and went like a dream. Carol and I were speechless. We sat there and just let the magic of this once in a lifetime encounter wash over us.
Indigenous cultures throughout the world have always believed that encounters with certain animals were a portent of things to come. Whether that was an event to anticipate with joy or dread depended upon the animal and the circumstances of the encounter. Bald eagles are powerful birds. Our experience today was a powerful one for sure, the meaning of which I may never know but that’s ok, I’m content to just let the mystery be.
