Blue Skies and Sunshine

Brown Bear in Sunshine
Paradise Bend, Chignik River, September 24, 2018

We didn’t get a lot of days like the one depicted above out on the cloudy, windswept Alaska Peninsula. Blue skies reflected in the river, sunshine casting everything it touched in a patina of gold. I hurried through breakfast, donned waders and a camouflage jacked, packed my camera into its soft case and bungee-corded it to the front rack of my honda. Two-and-a-half miles down the Top Road I parked near the boat landing, slung 20 pounds of tripod, camera and long lens over my shoulder and followed a trail to the broad, seldom-visited collection of braided water and islands we called Paradise Bend – the best place on the Chignik to catch morning light. Along the trail there were bear and moose tracks in soft mud, the last Wild Geraniums and Yarrow barely holding onto their purple and white blooms respectively. A snipe exploded from a little swale – late in the year for that species to be hanging around. Curious Black-capped Chickadees called from alder thickets and approached on either side to examine the intruder striding through their world and from the river I could hear the ratchety cry of a kingfisher. Further out gulls squawked and chattered – Glaucous-winged and Short-bills -, and I could just barely hear the soft, murmuring quacks of Mallards and Green-winged Teal. A pair of eagles began piping.

As I reached the bend, the wary ducks rose and repositioned themselves further downriver. There were more bear tracks in the sand along with a set of wolf prints, fresh, probably from the previous night. I waded across a river braid out to an island covered in graywacke, set up in front of small wall of autumn-yellow willows and waited. The morning sun poured over my left shoulder, a light breeze touched my right cheek. Salmon splashed in the channel in front of me as well as in shallows two hundred yards downriver to my left. My eyes were drawn to the sky as I became aware of steady, high-pitched honking growing closer – a pair of Tundra Swans winging south.

What a day. All I needed now was for a bear to come by.

Yellowlegs and Sticklebacks

Greater Yellowlegs with a Nine-Spined Stickleback
Chignik Lake, Alaska Peninsula, August 20, 2018

There are two species of yellowlegs – Greater, the larger of the two species and featuring a proportionately longer bill, and Lesser, the smaller of the two with a proportionately shorter bill. Until you’ve looked at quite a few of these birds, they are difficult to tell apart unless they’re near each other. We never encountered Lessers at The Lake, but from spring through early fall Greaters were common.

Yellowlegs stalk shoreside margins searching for any small fish. A quick stab is usually all it takes before they come up with a stickleback or salmon parr siscorred chopstick style between their bills. Close examination of photographs hints at small serrations in the roof of the upper bill, helpful in repositioning their catch for a head first swallow. Their piercing calls, delivered in sequences of three and four quick, sharp cries, can sound almost like a car alarm. Unlike most shorebirds, yellowlegs often perch at the very tops of trees, a behavior they share with Wandering Tattlers.

Mama!

Mama! Sheer joy and love as mom came back ashore after looking for fish.
Chignik Lake on the Alaska Peninsula

Happy Mother’s Day to readers everywhere!

Why did the Brown Bear Cross the River?

At the Swimmin’ Hole
Coastal Brown Bears crossing the Chignik River, September 22, 2018

Why did the Brown Bear cross the river?

Happy Friday, everyone!

Clarks Bay September

Clarks Bay Beach with Brown Bear Tracks in September
A few hundred yards up the beach from where this photograph was composed, Clarks River debouches into Chignik Lake. Small enough to cross when wearing waders but large enough to navigate in a skiff equipped with a jet drive, Clarks provides major spawning habitat for Sockeye and Coho salmon. Lots of salmon. Lots of bears. September 13, 2018

Migration: The Peeps of Cordova

Western Sandpipers, Hartney Bay, Cordova, Alaska, May 3, 2024

This was the scene about six miles from the heart of Cordova this past Friday morning, and this is but a sliver of the many thousands of shorebirds that stop for a short while to fuel up and rest on tidal mudflats near the town as they make their way to nesting grounds further north. Figuring in nearby barrier islands and additional flats in the Copper River delta, some five million shorebirds represented by several species will visit the Cordova area over a few days in early May. While they are here, these Western Sandpipers will double their weight. The delta is absolutely critical to the health of these avian populations as there are only a few places in the world that offer the sheer biomass of invertebrates and biofilm these birds require in order to complete journeys that in many cases cover thousands of miles. Look for a more indepth article on this incredible migratory event in the coming days.

The View from the Boat Landing

The View from the Boat Landing
Chignik River, Dawn, September 10, 2018

Behind me from where I stood as I composed this photograph, a dirt and gravel road travels a winding path along steep hillsides for about three miles to the Chignik Lake airfield, a bouncy dirt airstrip capable of handling the nine-seat bush planes and smaller aircraft that regularly travel the Alaska Peninsula. For the first two-and-a-half miles from the boat landing the road hugs steep hills, often within view of the river. Traveling the road from June through November, it’s common – at times almost a given – that you’ll see one of more of the Chignik’s massive brown bears. Sandhill Cranes, Tundra Swans, eagles and any number of passerines are frequently encountered in summer, and at any time of year a glimpse of foxes, moose, wolves and even wolverines is possible. Take note of the local hares you might catch sight of – Tundra Hares, the largest hares in the world.

The road is the road… the road to The Pad… the Top Road. Three miles. On one end, unless you are on a Honda (an ATV), you would need to board a plane to travel further by vehicle. On the other end, you need a skiff. There is no overland connection with any other community. Mountains, rough terrain and jungle-thick alders make travel by foot even to the village of Chignik Lagoon – just six miles down the peninsula from Chignik Lake – impractical. Whether one travels by air or by sea, it is 353 miles to Homer, Alaska – the closest place a road connecting with the North American mainland can be joined.

Is “wilderness village” an oxymoron?

Environmental Stewardship and a Good Piece of Pie

Mumble Creek Brookie
That Stream that Shall Not be Named, Pennsylvania, May 2021

A few weeks ago here on Cutterlight I published a tribute to a recently passed friend and mentor, Bill Kodrich. Concurrently, I sent the article to the fly-fishing zine Hatch Magazine hoping to get Bill a bit more ink and appreciation. The editor asked for a longer piece, which I was happy to supply. The article went live on Hatch this morning. I wrote the piece as not only a tribute to Bill, but as a reminder of two things to consider as we move through life: That mentorship matters; and that when we join with others and put our shoulders to the wheel, big change is possible. Here’s the link: Environmental Stewardship and a Good Piece of Pie

I hope your day is going well.

JD