Common Creatures in Uncommon Places
Yet one of the most memorable experiences of the season came from two creatures many people see every day: crows and coyotes.
On the second day of a recent trip, Jeffrey took us ashore to explore and make photographs on a beach I had long wanted to visit. The forest behind the shoreline had always intrigued me. Over the years I had watched bears emerge from its edge and, on one occasion, a wolf. What I noticed most often, however, were the crows. They were always there, carrying on conversations of their own.
As our guests wandered the beach with cameras in hand, I found myself drawn toward the forest.
Eventually, accompanied by our photo instructors and a few guests, I stepped through the fringe of alder and devil’s club and into the woods. The mossy ground was soft beneath our feet, and above us the crows moved through the canopy, calling, cooing, and flying from tree to tree.
We searched for signs of wildlife and found a bear daybed and scat, though its occupant was long gone. After a while, one of our instructors quietly asked if this might be a good place for a forest meditation. It was.
I invited everyone to find a tree to lean against or a comfortable place to sit. Then we settled into silence.
For the next twenty minutes, the forest belonged to the crows. We listened as they called back and forth, rustled through the branches, and filled the woods with a surprising variety of sounds. Their behavior was fascinating, their presence engaging. By the time we returned to the beach, much of the conversation revolved around crows. These familiar birds, so often dismissed as nuisances, had become worthy subjects of curiosity and admiration.
That evening I went to bed feeling grateful for the experience. Not long afterward, Jeffrey woke me.
“Wake up! There are coyotes on the beach.”
They had emerged from the same forest where we had spent the afternoon. Their yips, barks, and songs had echoed across the anchorage before I arrived on deck. By then the chorus had ended, but the excitement remained. We watched as the coyotes crossed a sandbar from a small island to the mainland before disappearing into the gathering dusk.
The next morning, while making coffee, I heard them again.
Their songs drifted across South Sandy Cove, and I rushed on deck hoping for another glimpse. Soon I spotted movement on the beach. One coyote crossed the sandbar, then another. When the second reached shore, it began to call. Both animals lifted their voices together.
My heart pounded with happiness.
Coyotes and crows are remarkably adaptable creatures. They thrive in wild places and in our neighborhoods at home. Yet because they are common, we often overlook them.
Over the course of a single day, our small group became captivated by both. By slowing down, watching, and listening, we discovered beauty in creatures we might otherwise have ignored. Now, whenever I hear a crow calling or a coyote singing near home, I’ll think of that forest, that anchorage, and the reminder that wonder is not reserved for rare wildlife alone. Sometimes it lives in the familiar beings sharing the world alongside us.
Christine
Owner – Chef & Naturalist
P. S. If you are inspired to join us, just contact Sarah. You can see our current 2027 and 2028 schedules here: https://northwestnavigation.com/schedule-and-rates
