I Came Through the Tunnel and Everything Changed

I came through the tunnel this morning and there were pelicans everywhere.

Not a couple of pelicans.

Pelicans everywhere.

I was driving from Long Beach down to our RiversZen studio in Astoria. It’s a beautiful drive anyway, especially once you get near the Columbia River, but this morning was something else.

The day before I’d seen an eagle having lunch outside the port window. That gave me an idea for a Driving with Dave, and since I still had about ten minutes before I got to the studio, I grabbed my phone recorder so I wouldn’t forget what I wanted to say.

Then I went through the Fort Columbia Tunnel.

And apparently somebody had scheduled a pelican convention.

Peggy and I Have a Thing for Pelicans

The water is right beside the road there, separated by a low wall of boulders that keeps the Columbia from splashing all over the highway. The pelicans started just a few feet beyond that wall.

Some were feeding. Some were flying. Some were just hanging around on the water. Terns and cormorants were mixed in with them, and the whole thing seemed to stretch maybe a quarter of the way across the river.

Astoria was sitting there in the background.

I wish I could tell you I calmly appreciated the beauty of the moment.

I didn’t.

I was more like:

Holy crap. Look at all the pelicans.

Peggy and I love pelicans. In fact, I’ve said for years that if I get a choice, I might like to come back in my next life as one.

They just look cool.

Especially the brown pelicans. They’ll fly in a line barely above the water, rising and falling with the waves. I always thought they looked like they were surfing.

Turns out they pretty much are.

Brown pelicans can use the air rising off waves to help them glide along the surface. Then, when they’re hungry, they can go from graceful surfer to guided missile, folding themselves up and plunging into the water after fish.

I’m not particularly fond of seafood.

But I assume reincarnation takes care of dietary preferences.

Apparently September Is Pelican Time

I got curious after I arrived at the studio and started looking into what I had just seen.

Brown pelicans don’t breed here. The ones we see along the Washington coast are California Brown Pelicans that move north after breeding, following food along the Pacific Coast.

And here’s something I didn’t know.

Late July through early September is generally when their numbers peak along the Washington coast.

So apparently I picked a pretty good morning to drive to Astoria.

The Columbia River estuary is important pelican territory too. Thousands of brown pelicans have gathered around East Sand Island over the years, feeding in the estuary and using the area to rest.

Which brings me to another thing I like about pelicans.

They seem perfectly capable of doing absolutely nothing. They feed. They fly. They dive. And then sometimes they just sit there.

Nobody appears to be worried about whether they’re getting enough steps.

Then I Got to Work

Eventually I had to leave my pelican convention and continue to Astoria. I pulled into the parking lot at RiversZen.

And here came six enormous white pelicans flying right over my car.

American White Pelicans are completely different-looking birds. They can have wingspans around nine feet, and unlike the browns, they don’t normally crash headfirst into the water for lunch.

They tend to feed from the surface, sometimes working together to move fish into shallower water where they’re easier to catch. They’re also wonderful soaring birds.

Six of them going over your head gets your attention.

Although my first thought wasn’t particularly educational.

Please don’t poop on the car.

If you’ve ever cleaned pelican crap off a vehicle, you understand.

Thankfully, everybody maintained proper altitude and bowel control.

Another successful arrival at RiversZen.

I Hope I Never Stop Doing This

I’ve made that drive a lot. I know the bridge, the tunnel, the river, and where Astoria starts appearing across the water.

It would be very easy for all of it to become background scenery. Just the stuff outside the windshield while I’m thinking about where I’m going, what I have to do when I get there, whether the sound system is going to behave today, what we’re having for lunch, or whatever else happens to be bouncing around inside my head.

But this morning I came through that tunnel and for a few minutes the pelicans got all of me.

Maybe that’s why I’m sitting here writing about them.

We spend a lot of time talking about how to live better. Eat this. Don’t eat that. Exercise. Sleep. Stretch. Breathe. Take this supplement. Don’t take that one. Track your steps, your sleep, your heart rate, and apparently anything else that will hold still long enough to be measured.

Some of that information is useful. I write about it myself.

But I don’t want to become so busy trying to live a healthy life that I forget to have one.

I want to keep coming through tunnels and occasionally being surprised by what’s waiting on the other side. I want to still get excited when an eagle is eating lunch outside my window. I want to look up when six giant white birds fly over my head. I want to notice something I’ve seen a hundred times and somehow see it differently on the hundred-and-first.

Maybe that’s part of why Peggy and I care so much about staying strong, mobile and capable as we get older.

Not so we can win some imaginary fitness competition.

So we can keep participating in all of this.

There are probably extraordinary things happening around us every day. Some are big. Some are tiny. Some may be sitting just outside the window while we’re staring at our phones.

And apparently, on a Wednesday morning in September, some of them are waiting on the other side of the Fort Columbia Tunnel.

I still think I’d make a pretty good pelican.

We just need to work out that seafood problem.