Late afternoon bayside show

A pelican lands on a channel marker of the Gulf Intracoastal Waterway.

Note: Just a few yards from our camper, we have the best place you could ask for to escape the ongoing craziness at the end of 2020. We are not taking any more excursions than necessary these days, and frankly, when a sunny afternoon is forecast for the bay here on Live Oak peninsula, why leave?

The golden hour

It is 4 p.m., and I have an appointment.

Location: The waterfront next to Estes Bay west of Rockport, Texas.

Conditions: 61 degrees, sunny with a gentle southwest wind blowing up a few coastal clouds.

I park my lawn chair next to one of the RV park’s tall palms, and a bench is my table for my camera and binoculars and a book. I have John Prine on the headphones.

The blue of the glassy water surface deepens as the sun begins its descent. For about 20 minutes the barrier islands across the bay catch the horizontal light and their dark green mass lightens to greenish gold, before fading to black.

Twenty yards to my left a few of our neighbors watch their fishing lines and mill about the picnic tables. I enjoy listening in on the fishing chat, but not during my photo session.

Just feet away from the shoreline wall is the man-made Gulf Intracoastal Waterway, also known as the Big Ditch. It is about 40 yards wide and 12 feet deep. Day or night, you may get a close-up view of the powerful tugs pushing barges up and down the coast.

Most of the passing boats are bay boats carrying anglers or hunters to their favorite spot, and occasionally a pleasure boat. Beyond the channel, the water ranges from a few inches to a few feet deep. A heron wades on the shallow patches that are exposed at low tide.

About 40 yards down the coast an inlet that provides boating access to the neighborhood next door. Pelicans perch like guards on the inlet gate and they scatter only briefly when a bay boat is emerges.

Clockwise from upper left: The sun sets behind western clouds, framing palm trees. The fishing area is lit by the final light of day. Estes Bay is calm as dark falls.

The pelicans are eating machines, always on the hunt for the small fish that enter and leave the channel. They occasionally drift by on their way to the fishing area. When an angler steps up to the fish cleaning station, pelicans immediately land just a few feet below and bob in the waves while laughing gulls hover and hope for a scrap. The pelican that scores a jackpot of fish launches to flee his pals, who give chase across the bay.

As the light fades, the pelicans step up their hunt. They ride the wind as they get a fix on a fish before diving. My goal: To capture one of these graceful birds just before they splash. It may be a long wait.

The bay is an expansive scene, and at times it looks like square miles of nothing. The only vertical landmark is a pole that holds a big bright green placard reading “13.” It marks the edge of the channel, but for birds, it is a place to rest and eyeball their dinner.

The pecking order for the marker pole: Gulls and cormorants will be chased off by pelicans, which

in turn will leave for another pelican, but the cranky blue herons rule this perch.

The wind direction determines my fortune capturing the birds in my camera frame. The rare

southwest wind helps because pelicans tend to fly into it on their return to the inlet. The other option is to catch pelicans gliding inches above the water.

Clockwise from top left: Pelicans beg for scraps from anglers cleaning their catch. A sea gull is illuminated by the late afternoon sun. A pelican rides the wind as he searches for his prey.

Even though the bay appears calm, there is always something going on. Small sand trout, fleeing bigger fish, occasionally break the water’s surface. Through binoculars, I spot a bay boat anchored in the shallows a half mile away. A handful of camouflaged hunters wade to their stand-up blind.

Their decoys bob on the surface.

The sunrise and sunset hours have been punctuated with the booming of shotgun fire. There seems to be no risk of overpopulation of ducks.

As the sun sets behind me, I am glad for the cloudless sky. Across the bay, the sky is reflected in the water and the dark island cuts the scene in half. Stripes of pink, a reflection of the sundown, emerge between water and sky.

A few of the bay boats head back up the coast to the harbors near Rockport. The temperature is deceptively cool with the wind blowing over water and the western horizon just a glow.

I am grateful for the scene as I watch the last pink hues disappear across the bay. Tomorrow, the

clouds may move in and create a slate of gray. Even then, we can watch for the dolphins!

Until next time

The winter solstice has come and gone. We will savor the lengthening daylight hours and the mild coastal weather. After the past two holiday seasons of family holiday gatherings (in Arkansas and Kansas) this will be our first time “away” for the holidays.

Estes Bay along the Gulf of Mexico attracts sportsmen in craft of all types and sizes for fishing and duck hunting.

Wherever you are, and whatever holiday you celebrate, we hope you are safe, and your family is healthy. Someday this time of worry and chaos will be a fading memory.

Share this blog with your friends. Contact me at larry@thirdquarternomads.com.

Peace