Rafting Up

It was a rare summer day along the Southern California coast, as the fringe of Hurricane Eugene crept northward from Baja, California, into the sleepy coastal town of Carpinteria. It was early August.

Since pre-dawn dark clouds had delivered steady rain, as water droplets trickled down the tinted glass of my beach lifeguard tower. The beach itself was eerily quiet, void of beachgoers, dogs, umbrellas, beach blankets, and boogie boards. Soddened by the grey, humid, tropical weather, calm sea conditions prevailed as tiny waves lapped repeatedly on the deserted shoreline.

However, as the current ebbed upcoast, with it came a dense raft of giant bladder kelp. It slowly drifted in a northwesterly direction, the fringe of the hurricane pushing southerly energy up the beach. Taking advantage of that tangled flotilla of algae were seven migratory elegant terns, several adults with a few hungry fledglings. They were recent arrivals. Fall bird migration had begun in mid-August. These seafaring travelers had finished their nesting season in arid climes of Baja and were now enjoying the mild weather patterns of Southern and Central California.

From my lifeguard tower I envisioned an unorthodox photographic opportunity. I quickly ran home less than a city block away, and grabbed my Canon 7D Mark II and a 300mm IS lens. After running back, those vocal elegant terns were still roosting on the canopy of their densely gnarled kelp raft.

I grabbed my rescue board and carried it to the water’s edge with my camera tucked inside a dry bag. I methodically paddled on my knees toward the rafting terns, as I kept the dry bag in front of me. I positioned myself up current of the congregation of seafaring terns. I sat up on my board, dried my hands with a t-shirt stashed in my dry bag, and let their natural behavior unfold.

On a couple of occasions, l leaned on my elbows nearly at water level to photograph their fastidious preening of their pearly white feathers. Between preening, there were plenty of extended wing stretches, some were vertical, others appeared as avian yoga poses as the terns stood on one leg with a wing outstretched. They held that position for a few seconds before stretching out the other wing. The fledglings, nearly as big as their parents, were still successfully begging for food as I held the shutter down from my teetering rescue board.

After about 20 minutes, a couple of parents flew off. As I sat up, I panned with them, watching their aerodynamic flight patterns over grey, glassy waters. They were seeking out tiny baitfish to bring back to their hungry offspring. They fly and then hover before plunging several inches underwater.

For 90 minutes I photographed them from my rescue board. During that time, I continually used my legs, kicking counterclockwise to maintain position, keeping myself west of their floating kelp raft. 

As the late afternoon wore on, their kelp haven was eventually pushed into the gentle surf zone. When a wave barely crested over their raft, all the elegant terns took flight. Elegant being the right word to describe their undeniable flight patterns, as they swooped and arced over the silky-smooth sea conditions.

Once they took flight, I knee-paddled just several strokes before I was back on the shoreline. As gentle southerly waves deposited on the still deserted beach, I continued listening to the terns’ steadfast chatter, a loud grating kar-eek, kar-eek carrying over the ocean. 

As the sleek elegant terns soared across their seasonal roosting grounds, more of them will continue to arrive, keeping to the coastline as fall melds into winter on Carpinteria’s pearly white sands.