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THE ASTORIAN • SATURDAY, JUNE 8, 2019
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An osprey, an eagle
and a fishing pole
One man’s encounter with wild beauty
An osprey
prepares to
eviscerate a
Columbia River
large scale
sucker, a large
portion of the
bird’s daily diet.
Photos by
Ron Baldwin
By RON BALDWIN
For The Astorian
L
ike most people raised in the
Northwest, I have had some sort
of contact with sports fi shing
nearly all my life.
Over the last two years I have renewed
my interest in trout. Not a mania, mind
you, but an interest.
Last spring, as I pulled all of my old
gear out of the barn, I knew it was time
for a trip to the outdoor store.
It was a reel eye-opener.
Where once there were only two
dozen poles and reels, there are now hun-
dreds, with rows of hooks with bizarrely
colored lures, shiny spinners and elabo-
rate feather lures to choose from.
The sheer volume and variety are
truly enormous, but I was able to choose
a little pole that would accommodate my
45-year-old Mitchell 300 reel that some-
how survived.
I chose two small lakes on Wash-
ington State Department of Natu-
ral Resources land near Naselle as my
targets.
The lakes are stocked with catch-
able-sized rainbow trout four times a
year by the Washington Department of
Fish and Wildlife.
Randy Aho, Hatchery Operations
Manager for Region 6, said up to 3,000
12-13 inch trout are planted at once.
There are an unspecifi ed number of
pole-bending jumbo trout, too, that mea-
sure 14-17 inches in length.
Surprisingly, I could still cast, reel, tie
lures and do all those fi shy things as if I
had never paused.
I fi shed both lakes and had a generally
great time until the fi nal trip that year.
The osprey
I piled the poles and other gear, lunch
and my companion into the bus and
headed for Naselle. After driving three
miles of washboard-like road we arrived
at the lake. We checked to see that we
still had all of our teeth. I parked where
my companion had a view of the lake
from the vehicle.
The lakeshore is deserted, quiet and
disarming, lulling me into the rhythms
of the surrounding forest.
Arriving at the lake’s shore, I’m
blessed with the spectacle of an osprey
diving like a rocket to snatch up a trout.
The wind is calm and the waters like
glass.
My lure fl ies across the calm water
again and again, splashing down
amongst the snags and stumps until
the pole bends and a sparkling rainbow
trout dances across the water. I bring it
to bay.
After a few more casts, another strike.
And then another a few minutes later.
Soon I’m standing on the shore feeling
right proud with a stringer that’s just one
short of the limit.
Now I’m determined to leave with
one of the jumbos. I reach into my
pocket and pull out a big dry fl y.
“They’ll never be able to resist this
secret weapon” I say as I risk blowing
out my arm with a cast of champions.
The bubble splashes down and the fl y
fl oats delicately to the surface. Wham!
The pole bends and a jumbo fl ies out
of the water like a Trident missile. One
jump, two jumps, three jumps. Finally,
I coax the reel to move the monster in.
As I’m reaching for the trout, I hear
my companion in the vehicle screaming.
I fi gure she’s screaming in delight for me
and my catch. Something taps me on the
right side of my head. I turn to see what
hit me and whoosh! The osprey grabs
my prize in its talons and darts away.
My companion is still screaming in the
vehicle and I’m so stunned that all I can
muster is a wimpy, fi st-shaking “You…
You…You…Aaaaaah.”
Suffering the scourge of the pesti-
cide DDT in the 1950s and 1960s, the
osprey began to spring back after DDT
was banned in 1970.
Today, the bird is increasing its
range with new nests established on the
Columbia and its tributaries.
Power companies have taken to pro-
viding nesting poles with platforms near
places where nests could interfere with
power lines. Still, a few birds are killed
A male osprey keeps a watch on its nest from an old dead tree. The male and female, who mate for life, share nesting duties.
A female osprey peers warily from a nest. When a nest platform is built higher than
surrounding structures, the osprey pair will move the nest to the higher view.
A limit of rainbow trout dangles from the
stringer at Western Lake near Naselle, Wash.
every year.
A second encounter
Flash forward to this spring. I have
again gone to the lake several times,
bringing home a respectable catch after
each occasion. However, on one recent
evening, I was treated to another specta-
cle in the woods.
The light was starting to turn that
golden shade that only comes near sun-
down in the West. The wind quieted and
I stood there armed only with my trout
net and a stick and watched the osprey
circle overhead.
“Not this time,” I shake my fi st at the
spiraling bird.
Suddenly, it swoops down to the sur-
face and nabs another jumbo in its tal-
ons. Now it’s struggling to lift the mon-
ster toward the trees lining the bank.
I hear the osprey chirp loudly twice.
I thought it was complaining about its
chore, but then a bald eagle swoops into
view, colliding with the osprey, creating
a puff of feathers and throwing the rain-
bow into the air. The eagle grabs the fi sh
with one talon and pushes the osprey off
with the other. Before they both hit the
water the eagle rites itself and slowly,
powerfully, rises above the trees and fl ys
west.
At this point I expect to hear the eagle
scream in triumph but then I remem-
ber that’s just in the movies. The eagle’s
sound is instead more like a wounded
mouse.
I have spent many days in the wil-
derness and witnessed many amazing
things. Now I can’t wait until next year.
How will it surpass this?