The Rain, the Road, and the Eagles - May 31, 2025

Day 2 of my mainland photo trip started off overcast—which was a welcome relief after the heat from the day before. But soon, the skies darkened further, and before I even made it out of the hotel’s neighborhood, the rain came. And not just a light sprinkle. It was a downpour.

I wish I’d stopped to photograph the drama of it all, but it was just too much. Great for the trees and plants. Not so great for a wildlife photographer with a camera to protect. I hoped the rain would pass during the hour-long drive to my first location, but nature had other plans. So instead, I grabbed a matcha from a local coffee shop and pulled into a quiet parking lot to wait things out.

And that’s when the first eagle appeared.

My aunt spotted him—perched on a light post at the edge of the parking lot. A bald eagle. In the middle of the rain. At a shopping mall, of all places. I wasn’t about to miss this. I parked, grabbed my gear, and ran out into the storm. The eagle was absolutely drenched, looking as unimpressed with the weather as I felt. But he didn’t seem fazed by me—or by the pedestrian casually walking by with an umbrella. I took a few quick shots, then repositioned the car for a better view and just sat there, watching.

What was he doing here? His nesting area was in the local heron colony, but this was unexpected. He’d been chased in by a crow when he landed—classic corvid behavior. Still, even soaked and scruffy, he was magnificent. I wanted to hand him a towel and an umbrella. (Seriously.)

Eventually, he flew off—probably to find breakfast. And I continued my journey.

We headed out to the George C. Reifel area, driving through farmland, hoping to spot wildlife from the car while the rain kept falling. Sure enough, the next eagle appeared—perched on a tall pine tree on a farmer’s land. I pulled over safely, stepped out quickly, and grabbed a few shots.

Did You Know?

Bald eagles aren’t waterproof—but their feathers are highly water-resistant. While rain doesn’t roll off them like it does on a duck, their outer feathers overlap like shingles, helping shed water and keep their insulating down feathers dry. That’s why eagles can sit stoically through a downpour—soaked on the outside, but still warm underneath.

He looked so focused despite the storm. I silently wished him luck with the hunt, thanked him for the photo, and moved on.

As we were heading over a very old one way bridge, I spotted another eagle. Adapting to a man made structure. He was on a pole on the bridge. Looking super miffed at the weather. I hear you buddy, me too!

And behind him, I noticed a large eagle nest so perhaps he was on the hunt for breakfast.

Wow. I headed to my next spot, just absolutely buzzing! The rain wasn't stopping me!

At a nearby inlet park, I hoped to find cormorants perched on the pilings. No luck—but instead, I found a crew of pigeons, sitting in the rain like regal little statues.

One dark-feathered pigeon gave me the cutest side-eye. I had to laugh.

Then came the call.

That unmistakable cry of a bald eagle pierced the air. I spun around, searching. There—on the top mast of an old, decommissioned ferry—sat not one, but two bald eagles. A pair. Talking to each other in the rain. I nearly fell over.

I snapped several photos through the mist and rain, then drove to get closer. Eventually, I found a better vantage point near a riverbank at a marina. There I stood—completely soaked, my “waterproof” jacket failing me—but determined. The eagles called out, heads tipped back, voices echoing. Were they talking to each other? Or about me? (“Look at this poor human, standing there like a wet duck.”)

Did You Know?

Bald eagles often use man-made structures—like cell towers, stadium lights, and even abandoned boats—as perches to scan for prey or socialize. That’s why it’s not unusual to spot a pair of eagles sitting atop a defunct ferry mast, calling out across the shoreline. These clever birds adapt quickly to urban and industrial landscapes, blending wild instincts with human-made vantage points.

I had to laugh again. When I was done, I whispered a thank-you, ran back to the car, and buzzed with energy. So much for the rain ruining my day.

But nature had one more gift.

As we made our way to an owl refuge, my aunt spotted something unusual on a power tower. It looked like hay from a distance. With her binoculars, she saw movement. I pulled over, hazard lights on, hopped out—and there it was. A massive bald eagle nest. Inside, a mama eagle and two juveniles, all soaked, all stoic, all magnificent.

The nest was enormous. I’d never seen anything like it. The mother sat between her young ones, feathers fluffed out in the rain, looking like she’d stuck her foot in an electric socket. The juveniles, with their fully dark brown feathers, perched calmly beside her, watching the world from their towering perch.

How did they build that nest? How did it hold together through wind and rain? How long did it take? Where was the father—off hunting? The questions swirled. But more than anything, I felt awe.

These eagles—every one I saw that day—reminded me of something essential.

Despite the storm. Despite the obstacles. Despite the environment or the noise of the human world below them… they endure. They thrive. They adapt.

Each animal I photograph teaches me something. These eagles—like the others I’ve been photographing lately—remind me that no matter the circumstances or hardships you face, you are strong. You are fierce. You are intelligent. And you have an untouchable perseverance within you.

It’s okay to walk alone. Focus on your path. Do your thing. Conquer your sky.