Blue Jays and Tide Pools: Finding Stillness in the Wild - March 22, 2025

Today’s adventure led me to the rugged beauty of Botanical Beach in Sooke, BC, in search of shorebirds, eagles, and some underwater magic with my probe lens. The sky was moody—overcast and softly raining off and on—but I’ve learned that some of my best days in nature come when I release expectations.

As soon as I stepped out of the car, I was greeted by the bold chatter of some very enthusiastic Steller’s Jays. Their striking black and teal-blue plumage shimmered against the grey day, demanding my attention—and maybe a snack.

They hopped around my car like curious little bandits while I prepped my gear. Lucky for them (and me), I always keep bird seed in the car. After snapping a few portraits of my feathery welcoming committee, I offered up a seed buffet. They accepted it like royalty—vying for the best morsels, their ruffled feathers and posturing both comical and endearing

Steller’s Jays are the only crested jays west of the Rockies and are well-known for their intelligence and bold personalities. They’re excellent mimics—often copying the calls of hawks to scare off other birds—and have strong family bonds, frequently seen traveling in pairs or noisy groups. Their diet is surprisingly diverse, ranging from seeds and nuts to insects, fruit, and even small lizards or nestlings. Opportunistic and clever, they’ve adapted beautifully to both forested areas and picnic sites alike.

With a smile lingering from that interaction, I headed down to the beach. The hope was to photograph shorebirds or perhaps spot an eagle up close. I did spot one eagle soaring above, its cry echoing through the mist, but it stayed too high and hidden for a photo. The shoreline, otherwise, was quiet.

So I turned my attention to the tide pools and the micro-world beneath the water’s surface. Using my probe lens, I captured scenes that felt like something out of another world—soft pink coral, spiny purple sea urchins, tiny hermit crabs shuffling through their homes, and even a little fish so perfectly camouflaged I almost missed it entirely. No nudibranchs today, but that's the thing about nature—it offers what it wants, not what we expect.

Did You Know? Sea grass in tide pools isn’t just pretty—it plays a vital role in coastal ecosystems! It provides shelter for small marine creatures like fish, crabs, and snails, stabilizes the sediment to reduce erosion, and even helps filter the water by absorbing excess nutrients. Think of it as an underwater nursery and water purifier all in one!

You see that oval little shield like thing? Guess what it is...

It's a chiton! A tide pool tank with a soft underside and a back made of eight interlocking plates. Think of it like nature’s version of a medieval knight in a sleeping bag. It uses its muscular foot to cling tightly to rocks, and a radula (kind of like a tongue with teeth!) to scrape algae off surfaces for lunch. Chitons have been around for over 400 million years and are absolute pros at surviving the crashing waves of the intertidal zone. Blink and you’ll miss them—they’re masters of camouflage!

This soft pink seaweed might look like nature’s underwater bouquet, but it’s tougher than it seems! It’s a type of red algae—possibly coralline algae—which builds hard, calcified structures that help stabilize tide pools and act like underwater glue, holding rocks and reef life together. Fashionable and functional, it’s the quiet architect of the intertidal world.

Next, it was sea urchin time. After searching several tide pools, I spotted one.

Purple sea urchins may look like ocean pom-poms, but don’t let their cute, spiky vibe fool you—they’re hardcore algae munchers! In fact, if left unchecked, they’ll throw a full-blown underwater buffet and eat everything in sight, turning lush kelp forests into barren wastelands. Basically, they’re the goats of the sea... with better fashion sense.

Hermit crabs are the ultimate thrifters of the tide pool world! Since they don’t grow their own shells, they “shop” for empty ones to move into—and when they find a better fit, they upgrade like pros. Sometimes, they even form a line and politely (sort of) trade shells in a housing chain. Real estate drama, crustacean-style!

Peek-a-boo!

Just when I thought the tide pools had given me all they had, I spotted this glowing green Giant Green Anemone, looking like a neon underwater sunflower having a very chill day. I carefully framed my shot, totally captivated by its hypnotic tentacles swaying gently in the current.

Did You Know? The Giant Green Anemone is basically an underwater glow stick thanks to symbiotic algae living in its tissues—tiny “solar-powered roommates” that photosynthesize and share nutrients. Despite having hundreds of stinging cells to zap prey like fish, crabs, and even sea urchins, it’s totally harmless to humans... as long as you don’t poke it. So admire with your eyes, not your fingers!

And then I saw it. A NUDIBRANCH. Do you see him?

I squealed. (Quietly. Respectfully. But still—squealed.)

Yes, that polka-dotted little blob of wonder chilling beside the anemone? That's a real-life sea slug, rocking its own dotted fashion statement like it just stepped off a Paris runway—if Paris was underwater and fabulous.

Did You Know? This spotted nudibranch isn’t just cute—it’s called a Leopard Dorid! Those polka-dots aren't just for show; they help it blend into the rocky tide pool terrain while it snacks on sponges and struts its stuff like the fashion icon it is.

Together, they made the ultimate tide pool duo: one glowing and dramatic, the other squishy and stylish. Nature knows how to serve a look.

Tucked among the rocks, the soft pink coral glowed like underwater cotton candy—delicate, vibrant, and completely mesmerizing. It’s a quiet reminder that some of the ocean’s most beautiful treasures are found in the smallest, stillest places.

This little pink-to-red beauty is Coralline Algae, a hard-working tide pool resident disguised as delicate sea confetti. Despite its fragile appearance, it's made of calcified segments that help stabilize rocky shorelines, offer shelter to tiny marine creatures, and even signal to baby sea life—like abalone and sea urchins—that it’s a safe place to settle. It’s one of those quiet ocean heroes doing big work behind the scenes... while looking fabulous doing it.

After spending hours crouched over tide pools, I made my way back to the beach for a much-needed break. The thought of the 45-minute uphill hike ahead—with nearly 30 pounds of camera gear on my back—called for a little recharge. I found a driftwood log, plopped down, and took a deep breath. As I munched on a protein bar, I noticed the shoreline was absolutely brimming with different types of kelp—long ribbons of bull kelp, feathery sea lettuce, and even a kelp ball, which looked like nature’s version of a bouncy toy.

Did you know? Kelp isn’t just seaweed—it’s actually a type of brown algae that creates entire underwater forests, providing food and shelter for countless marine creatures. Some kelp species can grow up to half a meter a day and stretch over 100 feet long! The round kelp balls I saw are called pneumatocysts, which help hold the kelp blades up toward the sunlight like little natural floaties.

Just as I was admiring this quiet kelp kingdom, another Steller’s Jay found me. He landed with that confident strut only jays have, clearly ready to work the snack angle.

Using his charm, good looks, and a few adorable head tilts, he easily convinced me to part with some bird seed. I tossed it down the log, and he happily hopped back and forth, nibbling each piece with delight. Watching his antics made me laugh out loud—it was exactly the smile I needed before tackling the long, steep climb back up the trail.

After a few hours, the tide began to roll in and I made my way back to the car, shoulders aching from an over-packed gear bag (note to self: only bring what I’ll absolutely use next time). On the drive home, I reflected on the day. No iconic shots. No checklist complete. And yet… it was exactly what I needed.

Even though many of the birds remained hidden, their songs filled the trees. The eagle’s call rang out, unseen but unmistakable. A pileated woodpecker drummed in the distance. I couldn’t see them, but I knew they were there. Maybe there’s a deeper lesson in that—about trusting, listening, and believing in what we cannot always see.

Today wasn’t about the perfect shot. It was about reconnection. With the landscape. With the stillness. With the unseen. And sometimes, that’s the most important kind of practice of all.