Will the Eagle land ?

Ashok Nair
May 16
6 min read

“ We were so far north in Japan that we could actually see Russia.”

That was my favorite oh so casually dropped line after our Japan trip.

It was also true.

From Rausu, a sprawling yet sparsely populated fishing town, you could see Kunashir Islands, which Russia had taken over at the end of WW II. It could be seen as a nondescript sliver of land rising up in the water…but it was still Russia.

The biggest attraction that Rausu had for me was not that though – it was the Steller Eagle. I have not photographed too many raptors. That, and the fact that the Steller Eagle, amongst the heaviest eagles in the world, could be seen in very close proximity, was an extremely exciting proposition.

I wanted to capture the magnificence of the bird, the phenomenally large wing span, that huge bright yellow beak, and the general bad ass sense that I thought the Steller radiates.

The other eagle, that could also been seen there is the white tailed eagle, a light brown, smaller and rather pretty eagle. But, it was the Steller that was the main draw for me.

There are estimated to be only around 5,000 Steller sea eagles in the world. They normally live around the Russian peninsula of Kamchatka, but during winters, many migrate to Hokkaido’s coastline.

Rausu, particularly is a big draw for the eagles. A few decades ago, it was because of the amount of fishing that was done. Rausu used to account for almost half of Hokkaido’s fishing and ships would be overflowing with fish, which the eagles would gratefully dip into. These days, the fishing volume has dropped very sharply, but, from the eagles perspective, tourism has stepped up.

Boats take tourists out to see and the eagles swarm closer knowing what will happen next. Fish is tossed from the boats and the eagles swoop down for their meal.

However, what is essential for this viewing to be memorable is the presence of drift ice. The boats go closer to the drift ice, throw the fish onto the ice and the eagles fly in and settle down on the ice. They eat their meal on the ice, take a breather on the ice…all the while giving copious opportunities for good close up and action photographs.

There is one problem however.

The drift ice needs to be present and it needs to be accessible. If there isn’t any ice, the fish gets thrown into the water. The eagles will still swoop down but then they will fly off to have their meal and return only after they have consumed it. The photo opportunities are limited to taking them while in flight, which in itself is a difficult task, but when its at the speed of these eagles and the number that is flying around, it becomes a maddening exercise.

We had, of course, been tracking the drift ice. ( The 'We" here certainly doesn't include me :) and is usually, only Rahul who fortunately, is a trifle obsessive about the weather )

The drift ice had been near the port for a few days before our arrival. The only thing that could throw a spanner in the works was the wind. There was a strong wind that was blowing and that could push the drift ice away and if it moves into international waters, none of the boats will be able to go there.

The wind blew. The drift ice moved.

We got up again at an unearthly hour and made it to the ports in pitch darkness to board the boat that was taking us into sea. Pretty soon, they announced that there was no drift ice and that we will have to make do with the birds swooping in around us in the water.

This is quite an overwhelming experience. These eagles come in really large numbers. A fish is thrown and more than one bird would swoop down. And a lot of fish gets thrown around. The trick, I learnt, was to focus on one of the birds that looked as if it would be swooping down and keep your camera trained on it.

Which, of course, is a lot easier to put in words than to put into practice.

Our luck surprisingly turned the second day. There was no great wind that was forecast that would push the ice back towards Rausu but still, it turned out to be decent enough to make the ice accessible.

This morning was sheer madness.

Eagles were swooping all around us. They were landing on the ice next to us. Often with a fish they have picked up elsewhere. Sometimes, I guess, simply to catch their breath. It’s a feeding frenzy and you can go crazy trying to figure out where exactly one should focus.

My first aim, photographically, was to try to capture how stunning the Steller looks. It really is a bloody impressive bird and when it spreads its wings, with that massive yellow beak prominent in the centre, its one heck of a sight.

I also wanted to capture images of both these eagles in the act of swooping down, their eyes locked on the target, wings stiff as they begin their dive. I wanted to capture them just as they catch the fish or just as they were flying off with their catch. I desperately wanted to take slow shutter images capturing their blurry wings and sharp-eyed heads through them. I wanted to catch them squabbling in air over a fish.

I got most of the straightforward ones. I goofed up on the slow shutter ones ( should have gone a lot slower ). I never saw a mid-air squabble. I tried a few creative options which hadn’t originally been in my plan. Some worked.

However, despite the non stop action all around, I felt Rausu was a tad underwhelming.

Not for a lack of photo opportunities. However, it felt very manufactured. We go out to sea, throw the fish around, the birds arrive, you click madly and then the time is up and you return and peace returns. It all seemed a little artificial. A dog and pony show that has been put up.

With the snow monkeys and the red crowned cranes, they were always around and you had to wait, walk around, identify opportunities, or wait for them. Here, a show was put up and the curtain raiser being the fish that was thrown around.

Don't get me wrong. It was exciting to see the eagles flying all around me. Often I was so excited that I was not able to think calmly and shoot mindfully.

However, later in the day, a nagging feeling persisted. There was something unnatural about the whole experience.

Despite all these thoughts, on the second morning as I sat on the deck while we sped back to the harbor, the water generously spraying me, I turned back.

The horizon was pale pink in colour, morphing into a vague shade of blue where low clouds lurked gloomily. A little higher up, the sun winked through the clouds, spreading a cheerful shade of yellow that was overwhelming the murky blue.

Not for the first time, I felt a deep sense of gratitude at my immense good fortune that I have been able to view these marvelous sights that nature has to offer.