I had been in Tofino for a few days now and was still feeling a little unsettled. My best friend, whom I was visiting (the sole reason I was in Tofino to begin with), worked most days so I attempted to keep myself busy by applying to jobs, entering data freelance-style for my previous employer, and writing here and there. In the evenings we went out for dinner or visited her boyfriend at work, watched movies, drank tea, and just hung out and caught up on life.
I wasn't sure how much longer I'd stay out here, though. Yasmin and Ryan had some housing issues that would soon leave them looking for alternate lodging until their new place was finished and move-in ready. This left me in an awkward position since I would also be along for the ride. I felt like a huge imposition now and it was one more thing that I had to worry about. My to-do list already included having to replace my driver's license and health card that were stolen a few months earlier (before setting off on my desert journey), as well as replace my "lost" passport. I really did need to get back home to Ontario to take care of these things, but I did my best to stay on the west coast, and thus extend my adventure, for as long as possible.
One morning, before Yasmin had to be at work, she and I headed into town to run a few errands. Our first stop was the Co-op grocery store, a link in a prominent chain here in Tofino (there was also a Co-op hardware store and the Co-op gas station). We travelled up and down the aisles, plucking random items from the shelves. While in the dairy section we ran into a man that Yasmin knew through her work. He was a local ornithologist and owned a bird-watching adventure company in town. Yasmin said a polite hello and introduced me. She was ready to leave it at that and stroll away, but I took the opportunity to pick this man's brain about the local bird life. I told him that I had just come from Arizona, surveying breeding birds along the Colorado River and immediately we were engaged in conversation. Soon I was booked to join him on one of his guided walks. I left the grocery store exultant. So far, I had spent a little time roaming around town and some of the local beaches familiarizing myself with Tofino's avifauna, but now I had the chance to get a little more hardcore about it. Also, I had started keeping a life list (like any good bird nerd) and was eager to add a few new species to my on-going tally (and hang out with someone who understood why that was so exciting).
The next morning Mr. B met me at the corner of Fourth St. and Campbell. Binoculars draped around my neck and a Kaufman field guide in hand, I climbed into his beat-up black Jeep Grand Cherokee and we set off for the Pacific Rim National Park. He said we would try to see as many birds as possible so I could really appreciate the whole experience, but there was really only one species I secretly wished to see. A colourful robin of the west with a beautiful, clear whistle of a song - the Varied Thrush would make for an excellent addition to my list. Mr. B said these fellows were more common in the fall and that we'd be very lucky to see one. I put the bird at the back of my mind and looked forward to seeing everything else, novel or not.
On the way we picked-up one other person and it became blatantly obvious to me that the people of Tofino didn't care too much about birds. Her name was Mary and she ran a small bed and breakfast. She wanted to learn more about the natural heritage of Tofino and took Mr. B up on his offer of a free guided bird walk. She and I would be his only bird-loving companions in weeks. Mr. B expanded greatly on this point several times throughout the day and revealed the hardships of owning a business that thrived specifically on a virtually non-existent human interest (at least out here anyway). Needless to say, profits had decreased over the years since people had better things to do during the recession than watch birds poke around Vancouver Island.
Despite the constant rain and fog, the three of us spent a grand total of six hours scouring the trails and beaches for birdlife. I managed to pick out a pair of Brown Creepers (rarities on this side of the island) as well as a multitude of Pacific Slope Flycatchers - species Mr. B could no longer hear due to the combination of a high-frequency call and his dimished hearing ability. We saw Black Oystercatchers scuttling across the sand, Wilson`s and Orange-crowned Warblers darting low in the brambling blackberry bushes, Bald Eagles perched high in the towering spruce trees, and chattering groups of Chestnut-backed Chickadees (the only chickadees on the island). We heard Townsend's Warblers high up in the canopy but never caught a glimpse, much to Mary's dismay.
Song and Fox Sparrows were seen foraging in piles of washed-up kelp and driftwood and Mr. B explained how to tell the difference between the similar brown birds based on tail length and their overall posture. He also pointed out similarities between Glaucous-winged and Western Gulls. Since their wing plumage varied from charcoal grey to light grey they could be very easily confused - especially since they often hybridized. A Red-throated, and Yellow-billed Loon floated far out on the Pacific and we were able to see them through a powerful spotting scope. We were also witness to a few Marbled Murrelets flapping erratically across the bay, as well as a lone Pelagic Cormorant.
Around noon we were all thoroughly soaked and chilled to the bone, but it was an excellent day for birds and I managed to see seven new species. I was eager to get back home and change into some dry clothes, however, Mr. B wanted to stop at one more location to see if we could detect anything else. We exited the Pacific Rim National Park while our driver cursed the government's lack of interest in maintaining the few remaining Canadian wild spaces. Driving further from Tofino down Highway 4, we turned right onto a small road and headed towards a nameless bay. Large, boradleaved trees created a dim road-hugging tunnel through the temperate rainforest. Suddenly, Mr. B screeched to a halt as a chunky bird darted out from the understory. It landed in the middle of the road and we all squinted through our binoculars to see it. I caught my breath as my heart skipped a beat. What we thought was an American Robin was in fact a Varied Thrush. Despite the low visibility I was able to see his bright orange throat and belly, charcoal back, and black breast. He paused for a mere moment then took off, flying deep into the forest. We exited the jeep and listened hopefully for a song, but heard nothing. The bird had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
We climbed back into the jeep and sat in amazed silence. "Well," excalimed Mr. B, "That was lucky!"
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