A Rainy Chase for Wildlife: The Unexpected Magic of Mute Swans - March 15, 2025

Some days, nature has plans of its own.

I set out to the Nanaimo area in the middle of a relentless downpour, hoping to witness the incredible spectacle of herring spawning and the wildlife it attracts—eagles, sea lions, and shorebirds galore. But the moment I arrived, it became clear that this was going to be a day of surprises.

The weather was chaotic, shifting moods faster than I could adjust my camera settings. One moment, the rain would hammer down in sheets; the next, the wind would whip across the shoreline. Then, just as suddenly, the clouds would part, teasing me with a brief burst of golden sunlight—only for the storm to return with even more force.

And the wildlife? Nowhere to be found. Except for one sea lion who quickly disappeared before I could get a sharp picture and never reappeared.

Despite the storm’s wrath, I did manage to capture a fleeting moment of a bald eagle pair training their juveniles to navigate the wild, blustery winds. It was a breathtaking sight—young eagles learning to soar, twisting and adjusting their wings against the unpredictable gusts. But they were so high up that capturing any fine detail was nearly impossible. Still, the sheer determination of those juveniles, guided by their parents, was a reminder that resilience is everything in the wild.

"Watching a bald eagle parent teach its juvenile to fly in the midst of a storm was nothing short of awe-inspiring. The young eagle struggled against the fierce wind, its wings trembling with effort, while the parent soared effortlessly nearby—guiding, waiting, and encouraging without a sound. Each attempt to land was met with another gust, another challenge, but the juvenile persisted. It was a raw and powerful reminder that even in the wildest storms, growth happens through struggle, and the sky belongs to those who dare to keep trying."

Along the shoreline, the waves were ferocious. Any hopes of spotting shorebirds vanished as the water crashed against the coast, sending sprays of foam into the air. The wind howled through the trees, and the rain continued to pour.

After hours of battling the elements and seeing very little, I made my way home, feeling the weight of disappointment settle in. But something told me to make one last stop—at a nearby marina.

As I approached the docks, the sky opened up once again, sending another downpour over the water. I searched for sea lions but found none. Instead, a common goldeneye duck startled at my approach and took off in a flash, its wings skimming the water’s surface.

A bald eagle suddenly swooped down, likely eyeing the goldeneye that had just vanished from my view. It was one of those moments where nature unfolds in an instant—quick, raw, and unscripted.

And then, I saw them.

In the rain-soaked golden light, two mute swans glided along the shoreline. They were breathtaking. I had expected sea lions, eagles, or perhaps more diving birds, but instead, I was greeted by these graceful creatures, seemingly unbothered by the storm.

Mute swans, despite their name, are not entirely silent—they communicate through soft grunts, hisses, and the rhythmic sound of their wings in flight. Known for their graceful beauty, they are among the largest flying birds, with an impressive wingspan reaching up to 8 feet. Originally native to Europe and Asia, they were introduced to North America and have since established populations in coastal and freshwater habitats. Their elegant presence on the water is mesmerizing, but they are also fiercely protective of their territory, making them both serene and strong symbols of resilience in nature.

I carefully made my way closer, expecting them to retreat. But to my surprise, they were curious. They would drift toward me, then paddle away, then return again, watching me as I observed them. They were busy feeding, their elegant white forms glowing against the stormy backdrop.

"Standing in the pouring rain, completely drenched, none of it mattered. I was inches away from two mute swans, watching them in their quiet world—graceful, resilient, untouched by the storm. They fed, drifted, and returned, acknowledging my presence but never fearing it. In that moment, I wasn’t just a photographer. I was an observer, a guest in their space, completely lost in their beauty. It was incredible, a reminder that sometimes, the most powerful moments in nature aren’t the ones we chase—they’re the ones we simply allow ourselves to witness."

One moment, the female swan spread her wings slightly, fluffing them out. Through my lens, I noticed something incredible—the shape of her wings formed a perfect heart.

In that moment, standing in the pouring rain, I felt a quiet sense of fulfillment. I hadn’t captured the herring frenzy I had set out for, but I had stumbled upon something just as beautiful.

As I finally made my way back to the car, drenched and chilled, I reflected on the day. Sometimes, we set out with expectations, certain of what we will find. But nature has a way of humbling us, reminding us that the best moments often happen when we least expect them.

I may not have gotten a full day of wildlife sightings, but I didn’t leave empty-handed. I left with the memory of a swan’s gentle curiosity, a heart-shaped moment in the rain, and the quiet understanding that sometimes, the best stories aren’t the ones we plan for—they’re the ones that find us.