Behind the Shot: Steller’s Sea Eagle Encounters

Behind the Shot: Steller’s Sea Eagle Encounters

Several years back, not long after I found my way back into photography, I came across a post online about a strange looking bird being spotted in the town of Port Union.

It didn’t take long before it was identified as a Steller's sea eagle, a bird that most definitely does not belong here.

Global numbers of Steller’s are relatively low, and they’re typically found in parts of Russia and Japan. Seeing one on this side of the world was almost unheard of, and yet, here it was.

I was immediately hooked.

At that point I didn’t really consider myself a birder or a wildlife photographer, but I knew one thing for certain. I had to see this bird, and I had to try and photograph it.

That first year, which I believe was also my first season working with Newfoundland Photo Tours, things were tight at home. Opportunities to get out weren’t as easy to come by.

At the time, the eagle was being seen semi regularly on boat tours out of Trinity, but I wasn’t in a position to go out multiple times chasing it.

I did manage to get out once.

It was a great trip in its own right. We saw and photographed plenty of bald eagles, along with whales and seals, but the Steller’s remained elusive.

I came away from that tour with a bit of disappointment.

At that point, no one really knew what was going to happen with the eagle. Would it move on, try to make its way back across the ocean, or simply disappear?

There was hope it might return the following season, but the reality was, no one knew for certain. It was all speculation, and the opportunity could have just as easily been gone for good.

At the start of the next season, I was watching closely for any news of the Steller’s. Before long, word came in.

It was back.

Not only back, but in the exact same stretch of coastline it had been seen the year before.

One of my first working tours of the season was with a gentleman from San Francisco, and seeing the eagle was high on his list. We booked a zodiac tour out of Trinity and set out to try our luck.

We checked all of its usual haunts.

Nothing.

Time was starting to run out, and it was looking like we might come up empty again. The captain decided to try one last spot before heading back.

If you can picture it, a zodiac full of birders and photographers, all scanning the shoreline and treeline. None of us, aside from the captain, had actually seen the eagle before, so we weren’t entirely sure what we were looking for.

There were a few false alarms. Mostly immature bald eagles and shadows playing tricks on us.

We were just about ready to turn around when my guest from San Francisco spoke up.

“Hey, I think that might be it up there.”

High at the top of the treeline was a bird unlike anything I had ever seen. Massive. A huge yellow, almost axe like beak, and that distinctive white along its side.

There was no mistaking it.

This was it.

We had found the Steller's sea eagle.

We all turned at once, cameras, binoculars, everything we had, locking onto where the eagle was perched.

And there it was.

It stayed put, almost posing for us. It felt like it went on forever, but in reality it was probably five minutes at most before it lifted off and disappeared back into the forest.

We got our shots.

They were decent, considering the circumstances. The distance was significant, the zodiac was constantly moving, and keeping things steady wasn’t easy. The saving grace was the light. It was soft and workable, and enough to come away with images that told the story.

But honestly, the photos weren’t the point.

What stuck with me was the feeling of it. Seeing it with my own eyes. Being part of that small group of people who could say, I was there.

We came back to the wharf with smiles that said everything.

That ended up being my only real encounter with it that season. I went out another time or two, but never crossed paths with it again.

The following season though, that was different.

That’s when things really came together.

I went out three times that season, and managed to see the Steller's sea eagle, now affectionately being called Stella, on two of those trips.

Both encounters were something special.

The first one stands out.

We came across Stella perched on a cliff face alongside five or six bald eagles, all of them just holding position together. It was an incredible sight. This rare visitor, a true come from away, sitting comfortably among the locals.

It sparked a lot of conversation. Was it simply finding safety in numbers, or something more? There was plenty of speculation at the time, but no real answers. Either way, just being able to witness that interaction was something else.

Getting there wasn’t easy.

Conditions were rough. The seas were up, and the zodiac ride was a tough one. At one point we made the call to duck into a sheltered harbour to get out of the waves for a bit.

And that’s exactly where they were.

Stella and the bald eagles, all gathered in that protected spot.

Just like that, the rough ride didn’t matter anymore. The entire mood shifted. I’ve rarely been in a group that excited. Cameras were up, everyone locked in, and we ended up spending a solid 30 minutes with them.

The next attempt, about a week after that previous encounter, wasn’t as successful. We saw plenty of bald eagles, along with humpbacks, fin whales, seals and more, but that’s a story for another time.

The third trip though, that one felt like a gift.

We were heading toward one of Stella’s usual spots when I happened to glance off to my right. Flying alongside us was this massive raptor. Huge beak, those distinctive white flashes.

There was no doubt.

It was Stella.

I got the camera up as fast as I could, but in the rush my settings weren’t quite where they should have been. The shutter speed was a bit too low, and a lot of the frames came out soft.

Still, sometimes the “spray and pray” approach pays off.

I managed to come away with a couple of usable shots.

We followed it around a point where it landed briefly along the cliff’s edge before moving on.

It didn’t last long, but it didn’t need to.

Moments like that stay with you.

Simply spectacular.

Since then, Stella has moved on from Trinity Bay.

There have been sightings in Terra Nova National Park, right here in Clarenville where I live, over in Long Harbour, and more recently along the Avalon Peninsula. I was fortunate enough to catch up with it one more time there. The shots were from a distance, but they told a different kind of story.

This wasn’t the same easy coexistence we witnessed in Trinity.

The local bald eagles were far more territorial, actively pushing the much larger Steller’s out of the area and away from the nest. A completely different dynamic, and another reminder of how unpredictable these encounters can be.

I haven’t had the pleasure of Stella’s company since.

But that’s the nature of it.

These moments come and go, and you never really know when or if you’ll get another chance.

Here’s hoping the coming season brings it back around.

I know I’ll be watching.

Gear:

Camera bodies varied across these encounters.

The first images were captured with a Canon EOS 80D.
The second set was taken with a Canon EOS 6D Mark II, borrowed during a tour when a guest’s camera malfunctioned.
The final images were captured with the Canon EOS R5.

All photos were taken using a Sigma 150–600mm lens.

 

Acknowledgements / Links

A big part of these encounters wouldn’t have been possible without getting out on the water. If you’re ever in the area and looking to experience this kind of wildlife firsthand, these are well worth checking out:

• Newfoundland Photo Tours ( Our company! )
• Sea of Whales Adventures
• Trinity Eco-Tours

 

Follow along for more Behind the Shot posts as the season unfolds.