On a dreary Cordova afternoon, during a break from meetings, I strolled out onto the beach and found a pair of Black Oystercatchers, rather joyfully bathing in the water’s edge. The light was gray and dim, with a few spits of rain falling from the sky. Clouds hung low obscuring the still-snowy mountains. The bird’s bills and eyes were the only flash of color in the otherwise black and white landscape, of water, and clouds.
If the conditions were black and white in the first image, in this one they were solid gray. And wet. And rainy. I was standing in the damp weather just outside of downtown Cordova where a small creek enters the sound. High tide had pushed a few small flocks of shorebirds up onto the rocky beach and while defending my camera from the steadily falling rain, I snapped a few images of the passing flocks. As the tide rose higher most of the flock disappeared down the coast, and I was left alone on the shore. Until this single, tiny, Least Sandpiper dropped with a chitter onto the beach a few feet in front of mt camera’s lens. So close in fact, I had to back up to allow the 500mm to focus on the sparrow-sized bird. The rain pattered down with increasing intensity and the sandpiper tucked in amongst the rocks. I made photos, until my ride appeared and I slipped away, the Least Sandpiper still hunkered alone by the cold gray water.