An Hour of Magic: A Fall Wildlife Adventure I’ll Never Forget - Nov 19, 2025

After a full workday, with the sun dipping low and shining its warm golden light across the city, the pull of nature was impossible to ignore. At 4:00 p.m., I practically scaddled out the door, birding was calling me. I had zero expectations. I just wanted fresh air, a moment of quiet, and the simple joy of being out with Finnegan.

So I grabbed my camera, hopped in the car, picked up my Aunt, and the three of us set off for a quick evening birding drive. With the early winter sunset creeping up fast, we figured we had about an hour—just enough time to chase the light. First stop: coffee. Second stop: the oceanfront drive we love so much.

As we rounded one of our familiar bends, we took an unexpected turn—mostly intrigued by a soft pink glow pooling over the horizon. Worst case, I thought, no birds… but at least a beautiful sunset.

I didn’t realize what was about to unfold.

Just as we were admiring the sky, something black and white flashed near the shoreline. A sleek shape. An orange beak. I gasped.

A Common Merganser!

So close to the beach, too. I snapped photos right from the car as it paddled calmly along, seemingly unbothered by dogs running up and down the sand.

There was a quiet lesson in that: Move with the water, not against it. Let the world be noisy, and still find your calm.

Already, the evening felt like a win.

We were turning around to leave when something caught my eye—something moving on the beach. I froze.

A river otter.

A river otter.

On the beach.

Right in front of me.

I’ve decided to call him Oscar the Otter — because once you name someone you shared a moment with, they stay in your heart a little longer.

Oscar was rolling in the sand, rubbing his body like he was having the time of his life. People were nearby, but he didn’t seem bothered—if anything, he was curious about everyone around him.

And then… he looked right at me. Me. Out of everyone there. It felt like a shared moment, a tiny piece of magic between two souls crossing path.

When a dog approached, Oscar slipped back into the water, only to pop up further down the beach again. Eventually, as more dogs arrived, he disappeared into the water and swam off, likely trying to stay a safe distance from the California sea lions out in the bay.

But before he left, Oscar gave me a lesson I didn’t know I needed: Find joy wherever you are. Be curious. Look around. And when life gets too loud, glide into your own quiet water until the chaos passes.

I’ll hold onto that forever.

We were buzzing.

Still floating from the otter encounter, we drove to our next spot just down the road—and bam—a small cluster of Double-crested Cormorants appeared.

And then — bam — a Bald Eagle! And right behind that one… another one. Edna and Edward Eagle, my local power couple. They’ve got a nest nearby and I swear they patrol their territory like royalty. Seeing them always feels like a little "hello" from the neighborhood.

It was like nature was lifting the curtain again and again.

I waited a bit hoping the cormorants would come closer to the bay so I could get that perfect up-close eye shot, but they stayed far out.

They reminded me of another lesson: Not everything comes close on your timeline. Some beauty you admire from a distance. And that’s okay.

The sun had dipped beyond the horizon, and I wasn’t ready to give up quite yet. On our drive home, I spotted a silhouette on a tree branch and had to stop.

Another Bald Eagle. Perched beautifully against the fading outline of the coastal mountains.

A final lesson for the evening: Sit in your power. Even in the dusk. Even in the unknown. Trust your perch; trust your instincts.

It’s incredible what you can see in just one hour when you slow down, look around, and explore your own neighborhood. A merganser, sea lions in the distance, an otter, cormorants, and multiple eagles—so much life, so much teaching, so much wonder—all right here at home.

Tonight, every animal had something to say.

Tonight, every encounter carried a small reminder: Find calm. Be curious. Take joy where you find it. Wait with patience. Trust your perch.

Fall and winter birding never disappoint. Tonight proved that again.