Some rain and some shine as we left the dock to explore the Salish Sea today. Into the Strait of Georgia we went on a familiar route, searching alongside Gabriola Island. We were spotting plenty of eagles along the way. The bald eagle is one of the most iconic and awe-inspiring birds in North America. With its piercing eyes, snow-white head, and massive wingspan, the bald eagle symbolizes wild beauty. But not long ago, spotting one of these magnificent raptors in the skies above British Columbia or Washington was a rare experience. In the early to mid-20th century, bald eagle populations in the Pacific Northwest and across much of their North American range plummeted to alarming lows. Several factors contributed to their decline. Habitat destruction from logging and development reduced nesting and foraging areas. Eagles were also hunted and shot, often wrongly seen as threats to livestock or game species.

But one of the most devastating threats came from a now-infamous pesticide: DDT (dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane). Widely used after World War II, DDT entered aquatic food chains and accumulated in fish, the bald eagle’s primary prey. When eagles consumed contaminated fish, the chemical interfered with calcium metabolism, resulting in thin, fragile eggshells that often broke during incubation. Nest success plummeted. By the early 1970s, bald eagle numbers had reached a crisis point. In Washington State, fewer than 100 active nests remained. British Columbia, with its vast wild spaces, fared somewhat better but still saw significant declines. The species teetered on the brink.

Thankfully, the bald eagle’s story didn’t end in tragedy. Conservationists, scientists, and government agencies rallied to protect the species, sparking one of the greatest wildlife recovery efforts in North American history. The turning point came with the 1972 U.S. ban on DDT, followed by Canada’s own phase-out shortly after. At the same time, both countries passed stronger environmental protection laws. In the U.S., the Endangered Species Act of 1973 provided crucial legal safeguards. In Canada, similar protections were enforced through provincial and federal legislation. Hunting and harassment of eagles were outlawed, and many nesting areas were protected from logging and human disturbance.

Biologists monitored nests, rehabilitated injured birds, and even reintroduced eagles to areas where they had disappeared. Public education also played a key role, transforming the eagle from a misunderstood pest to a cherished symbol of wild resilience. Fast forward to today, and the skies of the Pacific Northwest tell a very different story. Bald eagle populations have rebounded dramatically. Coastal British Columbia is now home to one of the densest eagle populations in the world, and sightings are a common, yet always thrilling, part of most days on the water. Whether perched on tall Douglas Firs, gliding over estuaries, or swooping down to snatch a salmon from the sea, these birds remind us that recovery is possible. Conservation works, and the bald eagle is living proof. As we continue to face new environmental challenges, the success of the bald eagle serves as an inspiring reminder: with vigilance, respect, and collective action, we can help wildlife thrive once again.

Next up, we spotted another conservation success story, an iconic bushy blow of the humpback whale. Just a few decades ago, humpback whales were not observed in the Pacific Northwest. Once hunted to the brink of extinction, their populations had plummeted so drastically that sightings off the coasts of British Columbia and Washington were incredibly rare. But today, if you find yourself on the waters of the Salish Sea, especially during the feeding months, you just might witness a breathtaking display: a flurry of blows on the horizon, a tail fluke disappearing beneath the waves, or the explosive lunge of a whale feeding at the surface.

In the 20th century, commercial whaling decimated humpback whale populations worldwide. These gentle giants, known for their acrobatic breaches and complex songs, were reduced to mere statistics in the logbooks of whaling stations. By the time whaling was banned in Canada in 1967 and in the U.S. in 1971, humpbacks had all but vanished from coastal waters.

For years afterward, their absence left a quiet void. The ecosystem continued, but it was missing a keystone species, one that helps stir nutrients through the water column and plays a key role in the marine food web. Thanks to international whaling bans, protected feeding and breeding grounds, and growing public awareness, humpback whales have been making a slow and steady comeback. Today, thousands of humpbacks migrate annually between their tropical breeding grounds (like Hawaii and Mexico) and their nutrient-rich summer feeding areas in the North Pacific, including the coastal waters off Vancouver Island and the Strait of Georgia. Each spring and summer, more and more humpbacks are returning to these rich feeding grounds, where they gorge on krill and small schooling fish. The humpbacks we encountered today were Chandelle (BCX2140), Scuba (BCY1225), Hammer (BCY1222), and Moresby (KEY0055). Nowadays, it is becoming uncommon to see a humpback on its own. This is incredibly exciting as they were once thought to be a solitary animal. We know now, we were wrong. Although they are not as social as the orca living in tight-knit pods, they clearly enjoy the company of others. After spending time with our gentle giants, it was time to head home.

On the way, we spotted a couple of our pinniped species! It’s not uncommon to spot harbour seals and Steller Sea Lions hauled out on the same rocky outcrops, especially along the coastlines of the Pacific Northwest. Harbour seals tend to sprawl out quietly, often resembling smooth, mottled stones themselves, while the much larger Steller Sea Lions are more boisterous, grunting, growling, and jostling for space. Despite the noise and size difference, these two species often share haulouts peacefully, taking advantage of the same sun-warmed rocks to rest and regulate their body temperature between foraging trips.

After an eventful afternoon, we pulled up to the dock with memories of an unforgettable day.

Photos below by Aly Kohlman and Jordan Robinson.

June 21, 2025, 10:30 AM - Humpbacks in the Salish Sea.