I sat patiently peering out of my blind. Straining to make out the vague images, my dilated pupils gazed through the gray of predawn at the bald eagles perched ornamentally on huge, spidery limbs of the cottonwood trees that dominated the river's edge.

The first glimpse of morning light revealed the textures of Jack Frost's magic as I prefocused my long lens on the spawned-out salmon beached in the shallow waters ahead. I waited. Why the eagles chose that day to feed on all the other available fish instead of on my salmon, I'll never know, but I'm glad they did. Alone without distractions, I began to not just see the river but to really behold it and experience its elegant beauty.

In the days that followed, I did sketch and photograph many eagles, and "Winter on ther River" is an image inspired by that morning and glorified by the eagles.

- John Pitcher