When I moved to British Columbia from Montreal, I spent the first few weeks bumping into lamp posts, parked cars and people on the street because my gaze was constantly held by the incredible, snow-capped mountain vistas.
Sure, I had a bruise or two on my forehead and shins, and maybe I endured a few withering glances - but what a view!
A friend of mine who had moved to Vancouver a few years earlier told me the awe would pass, and soon I'd be taking the stunning views for granted like everyone else.
Luckily, I soon found myself living in Sea to Sky Country, where life seems to revolve around recreating in those mountains, so I never got to that point, personally.
When I moved to Squamish, I was working in Whistler and, for me, the awe was up there at the mountains. Squamish was a nice, quiet place where I parked my car and slept.
It was actually a couple of years before I decided to check out the "eagle watching spot" that my friends in town were telling me about. I'd read some of the articles by local writers in The Chief about the wintering eagles, but hadn't actually taken time to see for myself firsthand.
I don't know the year - I'm bad with dates, sorry - but it was a year when there were and don't quote me on the numbers, either just tons of eagles.
I wanted to say craploads, but I'm sure that's the wrong measuring unit for eagles.
I stood with others on the banks of the river on Government Road in absolute awe.
I think I'd seen one eagle before in a zoo somewhere, but otherwise it was on television or American currency. Sure, I'd read that there would be a possibility of seeing a few eagles, but the trees across the river were littered with nesting eagles who would majestically swoop down at times for spawned-out salmon in the shallow water below.
That's also, incidentally, when I learned that eagles were carrion-eaters - akin to vultures, I guess - but still majestic in a rotten-fish-eating way.
Another year I went for a walk in the woods near my house, and the whole forest was alive with eagles roosting and gliding from tree to tree. It made my little Boston Terrier dog, Rufus, more than a bit nervous as they eyed him with a mixture of curiosity and hunger.
Another year I went to the local landfill and was putting some trash in a bin. When I turned around, the trees behind me held about three-dozen eagles, all staring at me.
"I really loved your work in that Hitchcock film," I called over quickly as I got in my car and made a hasty retreat.
But it really is a natural wonder.
Do you know people visit San Juan Capistrano from all over the world just to see the return of the swallows, or Mexico for the annual monarch butterfly migration?
And here we are, graced every year with the greatest concentration of wintering bald eagles in the world - and I bet a good number of you haven't taken the time to go check out this annual marvel yet.
Some years are better than others, but I'm always personally in awe no matter the numbers - and still not even close to taking this unique attraction for granted.
