Female Transient Orca with Seal against Aleutian Mountain Landscape Training Day
I wasn’t sure what to call this photograph, so I’ve gone with straight description. The Alaska Peninsula’s Aleutian Mountains again provide a dramatic backdrop and (I think) stunning context for this photo of a female Transient Orca and her prey, a thoroughly defeated seal. Looking closely, you can see the seal’s facial whiskers near the Orca’s nose, his body further to the right. She’s lost a bit of skin from her snout, no doubt from raiding the rocky shoreline for catches such as the one she is now contemplating.
While the female Orca was using this living prey to teach her daughters hunting techniques, the male (see the previous two articles) was checking out our skiff.
Throughout our time with this group of Orcas the light was all over the place as clouds closed and opened above. Many images from this shoot came out flat, like blue-tinted monochromes. But a few, such as this one, are nicely lit as the sun just began to emerge from behind clouds.
Incoming Twice the male Orca swam beneath our small skiff, so near the hull we could see him plainly through the Alaska Gulf’s semi-clear water. Each time, he emerged on the other side very close, turning parallel with our watercraft, eyeing us. Using our 20-foot skiff as a comparison, I estimate his length at over 25 feet in length, shimmering, bulky, muscular, liquid, graceful. Was he simply curious? Cautiously keeping us in check while his mate and daughters practiced hunting with the still living seal she’d carried out into open sea to the left of this photo? Showing off? Warning us? Each time the male came in close our hearts rose in our chests, our breath stuck in our throats. I blew those shots, able to fit only a fraction of his massive body in the frame created by the 70mm lens, shutter speed too slow to freeze him as his movements always appeared slower than they actually were. But I did get this capture of him swimming in for one of those dives beneath our boat.
The light was in and out throughout the encounter, the sun at times obscured behind dark clouds, at other times breaking through clear blue skies. Here dappled light is filtered through thin clouds, creating a rainbow-like effect accentuating blues, mauves and purples. This image is interesting for the background landscape as well. The land mass to the left is Nakchamik Island. The smaller island to the right is the smaller of the two Kak Islands. On the right is (I think) Little Castle Cape on the mainland. JD, Chignik Bay, Gulf of Alaska, May 6, 2018
Killers: Father and Daughter, Training Day Chignik Bay, Gulf of Alaska, May 6, 2018
The above photograph is of an adult male and a young female Orca. Killer Whales in the vernacular. Actually, not true whales, but the world’s largest dolphins. They were part of a family of four which also included an adult female and a much younger calf, perhaps also a female. I had been invited along on a crabbing and halibut fishing excursion by my friend Fred Shangin. We were headed to Castle Bay, which meant skiffing from the village of Chignik Lake six miles down the Chignik River, then six miles through Chignik Lagoon, out around Dark Head and then 10 miles down the Alaska Peninsula to Castle Bay. In the above photo, the Orcas are about three miles offshore not far from the seaside village of Chignik. See the Google Maps below:
Anchorage is in the upper right. The red star halfway down the Alaska Peninsula indicates the general area of Chignik and the site of the Training Day photograph above.The purple line indicates the navigational course Fred took us on that day.
These are Transient Orcas, members of the Gulf of Alaska, Aleutian Islands, and Bering Sea (GOA/AI/BS) population.1 As Transients, their primary source of food is marine mammals. When we encountered this family, Fred idled the skiff engine and for the next half hour we watched the parents teach their daughters about hunting seals. First, with the daughters following closely, the adults cruised in tight to the rocky shoreline where they corralled and caught a seal. Rather than kill it, the female gently took the hapless pinniped in her mouth. Barely holding it by her front teeth, she swam out into open water where the adults continued to teach the youngsters lessons they would need to survive.
Training Day, Fred called it.
I was still pretty new to photography and had never shot anything like the scene that unfolded. Lots of mistakes. Several times the male, which was enormous, swam right beneath our little skiff and then emerged, impossibly close, to check us out. At other times the female and even the older of the two daughters came in close, again looking us over. I managed to make a mess of what would have been incredible closeups of these great beings. In fact, the entire family, very much aware of us, seemed at times to be showing off as they taught and learned their own unique art of hunting. However, despite my excitement and fumbling I managed to get a number of interesting pictures, a few of which are difficult to look at if one has any empathy for the little seal.
Once the first seal was finally dispatched (the female performed the messy coupe de grace), the male caught a larger seal for himself. I’ll probably publish additional photos of this remarkable, seldom-witnessed event in the coming days.
1Alaska Department of Fish and Game, Killer Whale (Orcinus orca) Species Profile
Male Golden-crowned Kinglet – Chignik Lake, Sitka Spruce Grove, January 23, 2018 Making our way along a bear trail I hacked open as it descends through a dense alder thicket toward creek bottom, we hear them – cricket-like whisper-chirps. They’re in there somewhere, hidden in a jungle leaves the alders are stubbornly holding onto even as nighttime temperatures dip and we awake to frosted mornings. Kinglets. The Silvers are in, all but the Monkey Flower, Goldenrod and maybe the last of the Yarrow is gone… Fireweed gone to seed, big brown bears fat with Sockeyes, terminal dust on the mountains. Fall on the Chignik.
Golden-crowned Kinglets are another species that is either absent or listed only as “rare” on Alaska Peninsula avian checklists. This might be because they are only a fall through early spring visitor to that part of the world, as is the case at The Lake. Or it could be that even in those non-breeding seasons these hardy little being rely on the shelter provided by mature spruce trees which, for now, only occur near the peninsula’s tiny, scattered villages. JD
Pacific Wren – Chignik Lake, January 23, 2018 These hardy, tiny birds (8 – 12 cm, 4-4½ in) might be encountered in any season on the AlaskaPeninsula. Recently, as winter snows clear from the landscape here in Cordova, we’ve been hearing their jazzy song on walks through town – and even from the little grove of spruce trees across the quiet street from our home! These little fellows’ lungs are only the size of lima beans, but they sing loud and long in forests from Central California through the Aleutian Islands.
Click here to listen to the Pacific Wren’s songs and calls.
Located about four miles up from the salt estuary, this is the scene at the barge landing on the Chignik River during one of the big 11-foot tides that occur there when the gravitational pull of a full or new moon is at its peak. Upriver from here, the Chignik becomes unnavigable to large vessels, even at high-water. At low-water, this is a good place watch for bears, seals, otters and every so often moose. People have seen wolves here and, infrequently, lynx. This is where I once saw a nattily marked male Spotted Redshank, a bird that very rarely strays to North America from its native Asia and where on a different occasion a gyrfalcon swooped down and hovered just above me, as though to investigate. Occasional boat traffic notwithstanding, the landing is set in wilderness.
When the big tides roll up the river they bring salt scent and sea wrack, and even in the lake six miles and more up from the salt chuck the current pushes backwards and the receding water leaves behind eelgrass from the estuary. Depending on how you look at it, the landing is either the beginning or end of Chignik Lake’s lone road – three miles of dirt and gravel hugging steep hills as it winds above the river and then cuts through the village to connect the boat landing with the dirt airstrip. In fall, 10 and 11 foot tides are used to barge fuel up the river to the landing where it is loaded onto trucks that complete the short haul into the village. This is also how large equipment and building materials are brought into Chignik Lake which is otherwise accessible only by small plane.
You gotta watch where you park. These big tides come up awfully fast and will snatch a carelessly beached skiff in a blink – as just about all of us have learned through experience at one time or another. I would imagine the wheel bearings on the truck in this photo are pretty much shot… among other things.
Juvenile Black-billed Magpie The small pink patch at the base of this bird’s bill marks it as a youngster. This area on a mature bird is dark. Chignik Lake, Alaska January 2018
Among most humans (and perhaps among most of their fellow birds as well), magpies historically have had a low reputation. They rob nests and nesting boxes; their raucous calls grate; they bully other birds out of feeders; they assemble in packs, chattering in the manner of hoodlums planning their next escapade; and although their omnivorous feeding habits are generally focused on berries, seeds and scavenging (they love a good salmon carcass), a telltale hook at the end of their bill which grows more pronounced with age should be warning enough to small creatures that it is wise to give magpies a wide berth.
But I like magpies. In fact, I think I’ve grown to love and admire them – and not just cynically because they supply a steady source of prey to the Great Horned Owls at the Spruce Grove. (At times it’s a veritable boneyard of magpie skulls, femurs, bills and feathers beneath the owl roosts there). To establish a relationship with these intelligent beings, it is first necessary to ensure that they cannot prey on the eggs and young of passerines utilizing nesting boxes. To that end: 1. Make certain that nesting box entrance holes are no larger than what is recommended for the target species. 2. Never place a perching peg on the box. Nesters do not need such a perch, but predators will use it to get at eggs and young. 3. Take appropriate measures to limit these comparatively large birds from accessing feeders. (Suggestions can be found with a google search.)
Were one on vacation in, say, a tropical locale never having seen a magpie in the wild and an adult in elegant, iridescent breeding colors happened by it is likely the bird would be greeted with oohs and ahhs for its stunning beauty. In a future post or two, I’ll publish such photos of Chignik Lake magpies with summer sunshine lighting their regal emerald greens, glowing turquoise and royal purples. And if you listen, really listen, to magpies, you’ll soon begin to appreciate that there is a lot more going on in their language than harsh cries. It can be fascinating to watch a conventicle (the preferred collective descriptor for this species) gathered together, pacing about the ground, their soft utterances back and forth sounding very much like a secret language. And then, of a sudden, one takes flight. The others follow. To where and to what mischief or adventure? There is surely more on the minds of magpies than mere food, shelter and reproduction.
Magpies are one of the few nonhuman species able to recognize itself in a mirror. They can solve fairly complex puzzles – both under lab conditions and in life. They are remarkably attentive parents (even breaking up food into equal portions to ensure that all of their young are properly fed). They mourn their fallen fellows, attend to injured brethren and give all evidence of being able to distinguish among – to recognize – individual humans. Thus, they can be befriended – and no need to take away their freedom and make of them a “pet” to do so. Recently fledged magpies are typically curious and congenial. Show them respect and kindness. It may be surprising to discover what kind of relationship develops.
Groucho Crossbill – Unlike their White-winged cousins which generally remain high in the crowns of conifers, Red Crossbills such as this female often forage on the ground. Prior to our study, Red Crossbills were absent from three of the four Alaska Peninsula checklists I was able to find and were listed only as an “accidental” (very rare or one-time occurrence) on one list – the Izembek National Wildlife Reserve list. However, the species became somewhat regular wintertime visitors at The Lake in our years there, due of course to the maturation of transplanted Sitka Spruce trees and a succession of years of abundant cone production. As these trees are now beginning to reproduce on their own, it can be expected that various finch species will expand their range down the peninsula. I’m making progress with the Chignik Lake photos, finally well into the 2018 folder. Chignik Lake, January 17, 2018.
The Well-stocked Wilderness Larder We had packed in sufficient quantities of our own food and so were in no danger of going hungry when a dangerous winter storm came up out of nowhere, flash-freezing Black Lake and stranding us in a tiny cabin on its shores. But I admit… it had been a long time since I’d had a slab of fried spam; it proved to be more than I could resist. Black Lake in the Chignik Drainage, January 2018
Tundra Swans at Black Lake – The jagged Aleutian Mountains loom in the background over this bay on remote Black Lake on the Alaska Peninsula. A flock of approximately six dozen Tundra Swans rests on ice in the foreground. Not readily discernible in this photo, a few ducks, mostly Mallards, are milling about in the open water near the ice. This broad, shallow, weedy lake at the headwaters of the Chignik River Drainage provides waterfowl habitat as well as an important nursery for salmon that spawn in various tributaries. The most practical way to access the remote waters of Black Lake is by skiff – about 17 winding miles from the village of Chignik Lake up Chignik Lake and then up Black River.January 3, 2018
CutterLight 