American White Pelicans hunt the summer shallows
June 5, 2026
The water off Fairview holds the warmth of the longest days. Light penetrates deeper into the estuary now, and the shallow edges shimmer with the movement of small fish drawn to these sun-warmed margins. If you are inside, step out into this brightness. The air carries the salt and kelp scent of productive waters.American White Pelicans have arrived early in these coastal waters, their massive white forms unmistakable as they work the shallows. These are among the largest birds in North America, with nine-foot wingspans that cast substantial shadows on the water below. Unlike their brown cousins, white pelicans do not dive. Instead, they swim at the surface, dipping their enormous bills to scoop fish from the water column. Their bills can hold more than three gallons, and they tip their heads back to drain the water before swallowing their catch. The timing of their arrival here coincides with peak nesting season elsewhere, suggesting these are likely non-breeding birds or individuals whose nesting attempts have concluded.The pelicans often hunt cooperatively, forming loose lines that drive schools of small fish into the shallows where escape becomes impossible. They move with surprising coordination for such large birds, their necks extending and retracting in a rhythm that herds prey toward the shore. The warming water has triggered abundant hatches of aquatic insects, which in turn support dense populations of juvenile salmon, herring, and other small fish. These fish concentrate near the surface to feed on emerging insects, making them accessible to the pelicans' surface-feeding technique. Great Blue Herons work these same waters but employ a different strategy, standing motionless in the shallows and striking with lightning precision. The pelicans' approach is more methodical, more social, covering larger areas through collective effort.Double-crested Cormorants also fish these waters, but they dive beneath the surface to pursue prey, occupying a different layer of the same productive ecosystem. The pelicans' surface feeding allows them to exploit the seasonal abundance without competing directly with the diving birds below. Their early arrival takes advantage of this summer peak, when long daylight hours and warm water temperatures create optimal conditions for both fish and the insects they feed on. The estuary becomes a layered hunting ground, with each species of piscivorous bird accessing different parts of the water column.Listen for the soft splash as a pelican's bill breaks the surface tension. The water closes behind it with barely a ripple, and somewhere in the shallows near you, small fish move just beneath the brightness.
Sunflower stars and the hunger of recovery
May 22, 2026
The water off English Bay carries a different weight now than it did ten years ago. Below the surface, where kelp forests once swayed above a seafloor patrolled by the largest sea stars in the world, something fundamental shifted and is only now beginning to shift back. The rocky bottom here tells a story of absence and slow return.The sunflower star (Pycnopodia helianthoides) was the apex predator of these subtidal zones until 2013. Picture an animal the size of a manhole cover, twenty-four arms radiating from a central disc, moving across the rocks with surprising speed on thousands of tube feet. These stars could hunt down sea urchins, abalone, and other mollusks with relentless efficiency. A single sunflower star might consume a dozen sea urchins in a day, keeping their populations in check and preserving the kelp forests that depend on that balance. Then sea star wasting disease swept through the Pacific coast. The sunflower stars began dissolving, their tissue breaking down until nothing remained but empty shells scattered on the sand.The absence created a cascade. Without sunflower stars hunting them, purple sea urchin populations exploded. The urchins grazed kelp forests down to bare rock, creating what marine biologists call urchin barrens. Species like the northern abalone (Haliotis kamtschatkana), already struggling from overharvest, lost critical habitat as the kelp disappeared. The abalone, large marine snails that graze algae from rock surfaces, need the complex three-dimensional structure that healthy kelp forests provide. They shelter in crevices during the day and emerge at night to feed on drift algae that settles from the canopy above. Without kelp, the seafloor became a simplified landscape of rock and urchin spines.Now, nearly a decade later, individual sunflower stars are returning to these waters. They appear first as juveniles, small and cautious, but carrying the same predatory potential that once shaped this ecosystem. Each returning star represents a test of whether the marine environment can support their recovery. The survivors seem to carry some resistance to the wasting disease, though scientists are still learning what makes some populations more resilient than others. Where sunflower stars reestablish, urchin populations begin to decline. Kelp begins to recruit in patches. The seafloor starts to rebuild its complexity, one predator-prey interaction at a time. The process moves slowly, measured in years rather than seasons, as each returning star must find enough food to grow and eventually reproduce.Somewhere below the surface of English Bay, a sunflower star the size of a dinner plate moves through the underwater landscape. Its tube feet test the texture of each rock, chemical sensors detecting the scent trails of potential prey. The water above reflects the late spring light, filtering down to illuminate this careful work of reconstruction. The star's presence changes everything around it, not through force, but through the simple fact of being where it belongs, hunting where it evolved to hunt, maintaining balances that took millennia to establish and only a few years to lose.
Barn swallows and the insects of late spring
May 21, 2026
The air above Stanley Park carries a different weight this morning. Barn swallows (Hirundo rustica) slice through it in sharp turns, their wings catching light as they bank and dive. Each pass through the warming air brings insects into their mouths. The swallows have been back for weeks now, but their hunting has changed. Where they once flew leisurely loops to rebuild strength after migration, they now fly with purpose.These threatened birds time their breeding to match the emergence of flying insects from Vancouver's wetlands and forests. Midges rise from the surface of Beaver Lake in soft clouds, their brief adult lives measured in hours. Crane flies unfold from the damp soil beneath the cedars. Small moths flutter up from the understory as the day warms. The swallows read this emergence like a calendar. Their mud nests, tucked under the eaves of park buildings, now hold eggs or newly hatched young that demand constant feeding.A barn swallow catches insects at the rate of one every few seconds during peak hunting. The parent birds alternate trips, one staying with the nest while the other works the air above the lake and meadows. They target different insects at different times of day. Morning brings the emergence of aquatic midges, their synchronized hatching triggered by water temperature and light. Afternoon thermals lift beetles and flying ants from the forest floor. Evening calls up the caddisflies and small moths. Each insect species follows its own rhythm, but together they create the abundance that barn swallow reproduction requires. The timing must align. Too early, and there are not enough insects to feed growing nestlings. Too late, and the young will not be strong enough for the long flight south.The swallows' flight patterns trace these invisible insect highways in the air. They work the edges where forest meets open water, where warm air rises from sun-heated surfaces, where insects concentrate. Watch one bird for a minute and you begin to see the aerial landscape it reads. A sudden climb means insects caught in an updraft. A series of tight turns marks a swarm too dense to pass through. The bird's tail spreads and closes like a rudder, adjusting its path through air thick with prey. Each successful hunt means another few grams of protein delivered to the nest, another day closer to fledging young that will join the hunt themselves. The morning air holds both the insects and their hunters, each following patterns older than the city that now surrounds this green space.
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