One of my favourite things to do is head out on the Bow River in the early morning, usually just at sunrise, and paddle as far upstream as possible. The luxury of living only a few minutes away by bike is not lost on me, and often, no one else is out there.

 

I rarely see much as I head up. I feel as though I am silently dipping my paddles into the water, moving effortlessly, though I’m probably crashing through the silence to anything nearby. The idea is to get a couple of hours in before floating quietly back, camera ready.

 

This morning was fairly uneventful, with the current moving a bit quicker due to the start of the runoff, and I wasn’t steering, just allowing the kayak to turn at the current’s whim. As I came around a bend, though, I saw over my shoulder, behind me, a gorgeous bald eagle that had likely failed its hunt and was grumpily perched, soaking wet, on a log embedded in the riverbed.

 

I dipped a paddle and brought myself around to face him, and as soon as I looked through my lens, I could tell I had interrupted a very low moment in this eagle’s life. It felt like he didn’t want to be where he was, and as I started taking photographs, there was a glare that said it all: You didn’t see me. I meant to do that. Excuse me, sir, I need to go.

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Soaking wet and angry at being disturbed, he flew right past me and up into a tree to hide while I drifted past and on my way. I tried to thank him for the photo but I do not think he accepted.

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-Tyler Thoren