After a long Thanksgiving weekend filled with birding, I was eager to start my morning with one mission: witness the Bufflehead migration. I had heard they were due to arrive in a bay in Sidney, and the idea of seeing these charming ducks in action had me up before the sun. The weather, however, had other plans. Dark clouds rolled in, the wind picked up, and an ominous overcast sky set the tone. Not exactly ideal conditions, but as any wildlife photographer knows, you take the good with the bad.
Determined, I headed out to the bay, greeted not by Buffleheads but by a group of Killdeer birds darting along the beach. Their piercing squawks echoed through the air as they dashed in and out of sight, far away and hard to spot. But I managed to capture a few photos, though they were small specks in the distance.
These little shorebirds have incredible camouflage with their brown and white feathers blending seamlessly into the sandy beach, making them almost invisible from a distance. And their quick, darting movements—seriously, where do they have to go in such a hurry?—only add to the challenge of spotting them. Their rapid walking speed makes them a blur of activity, constantly on the move, as if they have somewhere very important to be.
My hopes lifted for a moment when I thought I’d spotted my first Bufflehead of the season, only to realize it was a hooded merganser instead. While not the bird I was searching for, the sight of its striking plumage still filled me with awe. Nearby, a family of mergansers was busy fishing and diving, their heads adorned with a striking pattern of black and white. Watching them glide effortlessly through the water was mesmerizing, even if they weren’t the Buffleheads I had hoped for.
As I watched the mergansers diving, one surfaced with a sea worm wriggling in its beak. I quickly snapped a photo, amazed at the sight—what an incredible moment to capture! Seeing the bird with its catch, the simple yet fascinating dance of nature, left me in awe.
In the distance, I also spotted a double-breasted cormorant and a common cormorant, both busy diving for breakfast as seagulls squawked overhead and a heron or two stood watching, far off in the mist. But despite my best efforts, everything was just too distant, the low tide keeping the birds frustratingly out of range.
The double-breasted cormorants were also nearby, their colorful, hooked beaks standing out against the overcast backdrop. It was so cute to see them swimming alongside the mergansers, their heads held high as they glided through the water. Watching these two species living in harmony, side by side, was a beautiful reminder of nature’s balance.
In the far, far distance, I spotted a few Horned Grebes, their bright eyes scanning the scene with curiosity. It seemed as though they were observing what the other animals were up to but keeping their distance, preferring to stay away from the commotion. Their cautious nature made them all the more intriguing.
As the wind picked up and the sky darkened further, the rain began to fall—a few drops at first and then, without warning, a downpour. A whiteout of rain took over, soaking me and my gear. I tried a few more spots, hoping for a change in luck, but eventually, I had to admit defeat. Today, it wasn’t about capturing the perfect shot. It was about the journey.
As I headed home, drenched but grateful, I reminded myself why I go out day after day in search of wildlife. It’s not always about the perfect conditions or producing art-quality images. Some days, it's simply about showing up. Pushing myself to connect with nature, even when the outcome isn’t what I envisioned. No matter what life throws at me, I’ve learned to keep moving forward—whether it’s one step at a time or a full leap. Wildlife photography is as much about patience and perseverance as it is about the pictures.
So, even though the Buffleheads eluded me this time, I’ll be back tomorrow. Because that’s what this journey is all about—never giving up, no matter the challenges.
As Woody Allen said---90% of life is showing up!