When one steps foot onto the soils of Alaska, they often bring with them many different stories and images.  Whether it is the tales of the 1964 earthquake that hit South-central Alaska, the evoquivical after effects of the Exxon Valdez Oil Spill, or the allures of the age old tales of combat fishing that exists on their local fishing message board.  Where the hundreds of fisherman line the shores of their nearest lake or stream and begin casting away in hopes of feeling a bite on their line as they reel in their next record king or rainbow.  Now mind you that most don’t know about a combat of a different sort that eixsts here.  Especially on the shores of Kachemak Bay.  What is it you may be asking?  Why it’s combat photography of course - eagle photography that is.  And it definitely was a first for me.

This last weekend I found myself indulging in a little combat photography of my own.  What began on a very early Saturday morning as I packed my bags and headed down the shores of Kachemak Bay later found me tangled amongst hordes of photographers in an effort to find my own space to secure that next great shot.  The eagles were out in droves.  Some simply sitting on that piece of driftwood that habitually line the shores of Homer while others were flying and squawking in their effort to secure their next meal.  One thing was for certain.  With hundreds of eagles situated on a small five mile long piece of land known as the Homer Spit, we had reached an eagle photography mecca.  And the people were sure to follow.

The drive down to Homer while usually rather mindless granted some beautiful winter views that morning.  And reminded me very quickly of how much snow had fallen over the past several months.  Albeit it was a bit white knuckled as we passed through Turnagain Pass south of Anchorage to find ourselves swept up in a snow storm.  The sites and scenery around us were literally gripped in white.  From the snow that had already fallen and was lining the landscape to the blowing snow on the road.  Or even the snow which was falling.  It made for some difficult driving and the game pretty much ended up being following the tail lights of the car or truck in front of you.

Soon enough though we exited the pass and as we entered the flats to Soldotna, the sun came out in force.  No sooner had we made it to Homer and decided to drive down to the Homer Spit when I saw cars lined en mass in one of the parking lots of the public camp grounds there.  I began to wonder if there was perhaps some event going on that I didn’t know about.  And as I drove closer we saw the multitude of people huddled in their cars with lenses pointed out the window.  While others sat in the beds of their trucks. When you see a sea of camera lenses, you know you have arrived.  And one thing is for certain.  As I looked around and was gripped with the slogans of “Nikon”, “Fuji” and “Canon” dancing before my eyes, I too began to suffer a bit from lens envy.  I must be having a midlife crisis I thought.  After all, I thought it was “boys and their toys”?  But for awhile it was all I could do was to look around at the thousands of dollars worth of camera gear that existed and began to wish away for the exact same kind of toys.  Err, tools that is. And later as I turned my head and saw literally hundreds of eagles in front of us, I quickly lost that lust.  Instead that lust turned to preparation of how many shots I could and would catch.

I too began to lean out the window in an effort to begin taking shots and found out rather quickly it wasn’t good enough.  I hopped out of my car despite the “eagle feeding area — please stay in vehicle” signs that littered the beach (I wasn’t the only one).  I guess I have never been one that has been good at following rules.  Instead I moved slowly and soon found myself within a stepping stone’s distance of the animal of the moment.  The regal American Bald Eagle.  They of course came in all different shapes and sizes.  From the adolescent young chicks to the old refined baldy that carried only one eye.  If you were looking for eagles, this was obviously the place to be.And as the afternoon went on and we began to struggle with the bad lighting, we quickly decided to go and check into the hotel and then head up to a local favorite eatery — Fat Olives for some food and fare.  We had a full day ahead of us the next morning and then half of the following day before heading back to Anchorage.  After we left Fat Olives we once again decided to head down to the Homer Spit to watch the sunset.  My memories came two fold then.

I could remember times of summer from my last journey to Homer.  The weekend of camping on the spit in driving rain with a multitude of friends from an old job.  How we spent half the night building a bonfire of packing crates and indulging in some spirits.  Then of course my drink of choice was Zima.  That seems like so long ago..  And as the sun began to crest and then set well below the surrounding mountains, I felt at ease and could imagine living there.  It was a perfect end to the day.

The following morning we again decided to head back down to the Homer Spit.  I had heard that the “Eagle Lady” Jean Keene began feeding them at 9:00 a.m. every morning.  Jean Keene lives in a public camping area on the Homer Spit.  She moved to Homer some 25 years ago and began to live the Alaska dream.  She worked in canneries and what began as feeding 2 eagles every day back then quickly developed into a daily affair.  Over they years, the numbers grew causing some commotion amongst the locals.  Words of “nuisance” began to ring out.  Because of her history she quickly became known as the Eagle Lady.

Now in her 80s she is in the last 3 years of her exemption granted to her by the Homer Council last year to feed the eagles after they banned the act within Homer city limits.  I have heard a multitude of stories throughout the year.  One thing was for certain, I had been warned that she could be a “crotchety old woman” and was not immune against yelling at people to get back in their vehicles if they overstepped their bounds*.
That morning we pulled in to find the beach already lined with cars.  Much more than the night before.  And the morning light wasn’t cooperating all that much either.  We did end up taking a few pictures but quickly decided to come back later in the afternoon to not only avoid the crowds, but to get better light.  We ended up driving out nearly to the end of East End Road and engage in the beauty of the scenery before us.  Not to mention it was nice to see a few moose bedded down along the way.

By the time afternoon rolled around, we found ourselves back at the spit.  This time however, I was determined to get out of the car and do a bit of walking.  The next hour or so afforded me to be within arms reach of many of these magnificent birds and brought with them a perfect photography day.  Two days later I am still going through the 400 plus photos I ended up with from this trip.  And mind you these are the photos that turned out.
 
I also learned that eagles are like humans and each has its own personality.  Sometimes quirky, sometimes perky, but often times aggressive.  There were a few that quickly became my favorites.  Like the mature male in his prime that had claimed his spot on one of the pieces of driftwood.  Rather than sit and sun bathe like many of his peers, he quickly decided that he needed exercise.  He would walk up one side of that log, turn around and then walk right back down.  Only to turn around again and start over when he reached the end. 

Or the young adolescent that liked to preen from atop the local telephone pole.  I found my favorites and my camera is literally filled with photos of their antics.  I would have to say the most hilarious however was the older female that would begin to stalk a crow by giving a hop towards it.  The crow had paused to sit on top of a utility box and was attempting to bathe itself when it would look down and the female eagle would again hop towards it.  The crow would jump up and wave its wings in an effort to scare the eagle away.  Eventually the crow would settle down and the antics would begin again.  Finally the eagle decided enough was enough because with a very loud squawk, she frightened the crow away and instead found herself landing on the same spot the crow had vacated.  Who knew that utility boxes were hot commodities as an eagle condo?

Later in the day we ended up for a walk at Meyers Beach.  While my travel companion decided to go further out towards the water front, I stayed behind near the marshes that lined the beach and sat taking photos of crows and the patterns the marshes made with the snow and sand.  After being in the driving wind for a bit, both of us were cold and ended up stopping back at the hotel to warm up before we drove off again to see the sunset.

Rather than driving back down out to the spit this time, I suggested we drive out to Ninilchik where we could take photos of the Russian Orthodox Church that sits high atop the hill. Of course being the nomadic sort that I am, we did take a few side trips.  Mostly to the Russian Village right outside of Anchor Point.  While there, we were lucky to come across a multitude of moose.  Including one cow moose that had two young calves peeking around her haunches, as if to ask, “Is it safe to come out?”  We ended up making perfect timing in the end despite my occasionally hurried driving antics.  As we pulled into the parking lot of the Russian Orthodox Church the sun was just beginning its crest. 

I personally loved the sunset that night.  With Augustine bilowing steam off further in the distance, the sun brought a full spectrum of colors that danced on the landscape before us.  From purples and pinks to brilliant blues and yellows.  And thus brought to a close our full day in Homer.

With checkout looming the next morning and a long ride home, I found myself with wandering thoughts throughout the remainder of the day.  Of how simply to get back to Homer.  If even for a short time.  And despite the fact that I will be back in Homer during the month of June (which is where I begin my journey/adventure to the shores of Katmai to view the bears), I have decided to go back for another weekend in May when the Shorebird Festival hits.

It was a trip needed.  Indeed.  And with the way this week has been since my return, it was indeed time well spent.

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* I was one that didn’t have a lot of strong thoughts on the eagle feeding situation until the end of this trip.  My own views on that would take an entirely different entry.  There were some negative repercussions from this weekend.  Namely a sour attitude towards out of state photographers that felt the need to attempt to kick us out of the area and also towards some of the habits of Jean Keene herself.