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Ice Changes Everything – Wintertime Life on the Frozen Chignik

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While River Otters are generally gregarious, playful sorts that get along beautifully, it’s hard not to project a twinge of envy on the otter to the left. Starry Flounder travel from the saltwater lagoon miles up The Chignik. Winter ice provides a lucky fisherman with a dining table. (Chignik Lake, February 2, 2017)

Clad in a 600-fill down parka, camouflage snow pants, insulated Muck Boots, a warm hat and heavy-duty mittens stuffed with hand warmers, I continue bellying forward on slick, solid ice toward a patch of open water near the lake’s outflow. With nearly effortless nudges from me, the tripod where my camera with its great, big wildlife lens is mounted slides before me. I’ve been at this since first light, moving slow and low. As careful as I’ve been, the otters have already taken notice. An assemblage of Greater Scaup, Common Goldeneyes, two species of mergansers, Canvasbacks and other waterfowl are either hauled out and resting on the edge of the ice or diving the frigid water for fish, clams and aquatic weeds. A pair of Bald Eagles perched on utility poles are taking in the scene, and I’m sure there are foxes – and maybe even a wolf or two – on patrol somewhere in the vicinity. Now I’m close enough to hear the otters snorting, breathing and crunching the bones of the fish they’ve caught. A pair of harbor seals pop their heads above water, survey the goings on, and quietly resubmerge.

Ice creates both new opportunities and new perils for the various species of the Chignik System. Here Skit, one of several Red Foxes we saw frequently enough to name, barely misses out on a sumptuous repast of Common Goldeneye. (Chignik Lake, February 3, 2017)

In early January of 2017, something happened to Chignik Lake that by local accounts used to happen nearly every winter but hadn’t happened in the past five years: save for a a couple of surface acres near the outflow, it froze solid. Over the ensuing days and weeks, while upwelling subsurface springs continued to keep the water near the outflow open, the lake ice grew thicker and the river itself froze in most places. For humans, foxes and wolves, the effect was to create an ice highway. The impact on waterfowl was to concentrate whatever birds remained in the system into the few patches of open water.

The more or less official book on the Chignik System is that Red-breasted Mergansers are common, and that Common Mergansers are uncommon or rare. While that tends to be true during summertime, we found that during wintertime, particularly during icy winters, Commons (above photo) greatly outnumber Red-breasteds and were in fact, common. Aside from research pertaining to salmon (and to a certain extent, Dolly Varden Char), the Chignik Drainage has been only lightly studied. Each new puzzle piece adds to a fuller picture of this complex ecosystem. (Chignik Lake, March 14, 2017)

As wintery conditions set in, scaup begin to show up on the lake, at times in flocks counted in the dozens. In the 2016-2017 winter, when the lake froze, scaup were fairly abundant. During the relatively mild 2018-2019 winter, scaup occurred less frequently and in smaller numbers. (Chignik Lake, January 3, 2017)

Icy conditions tend to concentrate any remaining waterfowl, making it a good time to look for less common or even rare birds. In a pocket of open water on the Chignik River, three female scaup (facing away from the camera), mill about with a fairly uncommon drake Ring-necked Duck (right) and, in the lower left, a somewhat rare visitor from Asia, a female Tufted Duck. 

Ice changes relationships among animals and creates new theater. I watched for several minutes as this River Otter used his catch (a flounder) to taunt a pair of eagles. The drama ended when one of the eagles took wing and made a half-hearted attempt to catch the otter, a maneuver the sleek fellow easily avoided by slipping back into the water. Resigned, the eagles flew off and the otter gnawed away at his catch. (Chignik Lake, January 25, 2017)

There always seem to be at least a few Harbor Seals somewhere in the freshwater lakes and river of the Chignik System. Here, a group haul out on ice to catch some rays. Events such as this are no doubt of great interest to the area’s wolves, as occasionally the pinnipeds get trapped on solid ice with no escape route. The foreground birds are male Common Goldeneyes – menaces in their own right to local sculpin and stickleback populations. (February 3, 2017)

Some of the preceding photos might give one a less than accurate picture of wintertime at The Lake. Chignik is an Alutiiq word meaning “Big Winds,” a suiting epithet. Weather bullying its way from one side of the Alaska Peninsula to the other can be formidable. Here a group of female Common Mergansers hunker down on an ice point to wait out fierce winds and snow. (January 6, 2016)

A Pacific Loon shakes of snow out on The Lake. (January 13, 2018)

As wintertime conditions change in coming years, those of us interested in wildlife of all kinds will want to keep our eyes sharp for commensurate changes in flora and fauna. In this global study, the role of citizen scientist has never been more important. Every well-documented backyard feeder, walk along local trails, and note of what is – and isn’t – nesting in hedgerows and elsewhere is a unique, vital data point.

loon silhouette

Previous Article: Birds of Chignik: Green-winged Teal – Bantam-weight Duck

Next Article: Greater Scaup

*For a clickable list of bird species and additional information about this project, click here: Birds of Chignik Lake

© Photographs, images and text by Jack Donachy unless otherwise noted.

Birds of Chignik Lake: American Wigeon – America’s Most Vegetarian Duck

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American Wigeons are a typical part of the the spring duck mix on The Chignik. This pair, along with another male, were hanging tight with a pair of Tundra Swans as they fed at an eddy favored by waterfowl. (May 4, 2019)

The first wigeons I ever encountered were of the Eurasian variety – back when I lived in Japan. On my way fishing, I’d often stop my bike on a bridge above Hiratsuka’s Hanamizu River. I wasn’t much of a birder back then, but the teal, wigeons, shovelers, mallards, pintails, egrets, and herons that gathered in the pools and riffles below the bridge fascinated me. At times, a shrike would put in an appearance as well. But sea bass, fluke and other species swimming the nearby coastal waters beckoned, and so I seldom lingered long. These days my priorities have shifted and I carry with me the small regret that I neglected to photograph the river’s kawasemi – glimmering aqua-and-orange plumaged Eurasian Kingfishers.

American Wigeon drake, Chignik River, Alaska. Wigeons are well-known food thieves, mixing in with other ducks and stealing food right from their bills. (May 4, 2019)

I don’t recall seeing American Wigeons until I lived at The Lake, but during breeding the male’s white crown-stripe framed in iridescent green makes this species unlikely to be mistaken for anything else. “Baldpate,” they are named in my copy of Birds of America1 – an unfortunate epithet for this handsome fellow. The same text gives an alternative common name as “American Widgeon” (with the added d) and the genus name Mareca which later became Anas and has since reverted back to Mareca, so nomenclature for this species has changed since that book’s 1917 publication.

Female wigeon, Chignik River. The most vegetarian duck, wigeons’ blue-gray bills are short compared with other ducks – an adaptation for pulling and breaking off tough vegetation. However, particularly during the breeding season, females take in more insects and other invertebrates. (May 12, 2019)

We generally encountered wigeons in pairs on the lake, on the river and on nearby ponds. As with other dabbling ducks, it is likely that breeding occurs at remote places in the drainage. It pays to listen for the male’s soft, whistling call when approaching likely habitat.

On the one hand, this drake in profile nicely shows the male wigeon’s cinnamon-brown flanks. On the other hand, he illustrates a point common to bird plumage: In this light, although photographed from several angles, his head showed none of the green wigeons in breeding plumage are known for. In different light, the shimmering green likely would have been obvious. In still different light, the stripe might take on a coppery-bronze iridescence. (May 12, 2019)

1Birds of North America, T. Gilbert Pearson, ed., Garden City Books, Garden City, New York, 1917

American Wigeon Range Map: with permission from The Cornell Lab of Ornithology, Birds of the World

American Wigeon Mareca americana
Order: Anseriformes
Family: Anatidae
Mareca: from Brazilian-Portuguese marréco = small duck
americana: of America

Status at Chignik Lake, 2016-19: Occurs regularly in Spring

David Narver, Birds of the Chignik River Drainage, summers 1960-63: Not Reported

Alaska Peninsula and Becharof National Wildlife Refuge Bird List, 2010: Common in Spring, Summer & Fall. Absent in Winter

Aniakchak National Monument and Preserve Bird List: Presence Documented

loon silhouette

Previous Article: Northern Pintail – The Dapper Dabbler

Next Article: Green-winged Teal – Bantam-weight Duck

*For a clickable list of bird species and additional information about this project, click here: Birds of Chignik Lake

Birds of Chignik Lake: Northern Pintail – the Dapper Dabbler

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With glossy hints of purple and green highlighting a chocolate-brown neck and head, male pintails are downright regal. (Chignik River, May 2, 2019)

From the first time I encountered Northern Pintails, they became my favorite among the duck tribe. Perhaps it is that their slender, elongated features somewhat resemble my own. Or maybe I’m just plain envious of the drake’s handsome jacket and eye-catching head plumage. In any regard, while there certainly are more brightly-colored birds, it is hard to argue that any are more handsome.

This female and male arrived on The Chignik in late April and hung around for a few days. They appeared intent on nesting. Alas, it seemed that daily boat traffic eventually prompted them to look elsewhere. (May 2, 2019)

The case of the mated pair of pintails in the above photo gives one pause to wonder: In addition to deforestation, draining wetlands, depleting food sources, hunting, poaching, light pollution, pollution in general, and the various hazards presented by windowed buildings,  windmills and other structures, how much negative impact does human traffic in all its forms have on bird populations? The Chignik is relatively lightly traveled, and yet the impact motorized boats have on bird populations (and most likely, on Chinook Salmon populations as well) is readily apparent. The noise and commotion interrupts feeding, mating, nesting, and brood rearing as cruising boats set nervous birds to wing. Every burst into flight constitutes wasted calories. A nest left unguarded for even moments leaves eggs and chicks vulnerable to predation. Waves created by boats contribute to the siltation of weed beds and salmon redds and might even inundate nests along shorelines or situated on small islands. It has long puzzled me that in many locales, wildlife managers seem to take little to no account of this type of traffic.

Portrait of a Lady: With scalloped patterns in shades of gray and brown, female pintails are a beautiful bird in their own right. (May 2, 2019.)

The Chignik’s pintails can be observed in more or less the same seasons as other migrant dabbling ducks – from late spring through early fall. Anytime you see ducks standing or walking along the shore in these seasons it’s worth glassing for pintails as they often come off the water to rest or to look for insects, seeds and land plants.

In profile, the drake pintail’s long, almost gun-metal blue bill only further accentuates his sharp plumage. (May 2, 2019)

Although the upper river and Black Lake are beyond the scope of this study, we’ve seen pintails at those locations. It is almost certain that they nest along the shores of those quieter waters.

The long bill and eponymous tail make pintails one of the easiest birds to identify in flight – even in silhouette at considerable distance. (Shishmaref, Alaska, May 15, 2011)

Northern Pintail Range Map: with permission from The Cornell Lab of Ornithology, Birds of the World

Northern Pintail Anas acuta
Order: Anseriformes
Family: Anatidae
Anas: Latin for duck
acuta: from Latin for “to sharpen” – a reference to the Pintail’s tail

Status at Chignik Lake, 2016-19: Common Spring and Fall migrant; Occasional on Chignik Lake. Occasional throughout the system in Summer.

David Narver, Birds of the Chignik River Drainage, summers 1960-63: Common in early and late Summer throughout the watershed; occasional in midsummer

Alaska Peninsula and Becharof National Wildlife Refuge Bird List, 2010:
Common in Spring, Summer & Fall; Absent in Winter

Aniakchak National Monument and Preserve Bird List: Presence Documented

Previous Article: Mallard – “Wary, Wise, Handsome”

Next Article: American Wigeon – America’s Most Vegetarian Duck

*For a clickable list of bird species and additional information about this project, click here: Birds of Chignik Lake

Birds of Chignik Lake: Brant – the Goose that Was Once a Fish (sort of)

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No white patch on cheek, white necklace, short bill, a constant, chatty murmur as opposed to the more distinctive honking associated with Canada and Cackling Geese… Brant!. For awhile during spring, wave upon wave of these migrants can be heard passing over The Lake. (May 5, 2018)

At The Lake, we slept with our bedroom window cracked open in all but most inclement weather. Nighttime sounds included Harbor Seals chasing down Silver Salmon, Brown Bears scavenging the beach, waves lapping the shore, hooting owls and – for a few nights in spring and fall – flocks of migrating geese.

To get a look at Chignik Lake’s migrating Brant, you need a bit of luck with timing (late April through mid May are best), clear skies or high cloud cover, and a good pair of binoculars or a long camera lens. With few exceptions, they’re up there, though David Narver reported them as “occasional” on the river. Birders seriously intent on getting a good look at this species would do well to check out Izembek National Wildlife Reserve way down at the big toe of the Alaska Peninsula. More than 90 percent of the Brant population that utilizes the Pacific flyway – along with half the world’s Emperor Geese – stop here each fall. That’s about 150,000 Brant and tens of thousands of Emperor Geese. (Note to self: go to Izembek!)

Here’s a little better look at Brant in flight. They’re fairly abundant near Point Hope, Alaska, which is situated within their breeding range. (Point Hope, Alaska, September 1, 2013)

Among Brants’ favorite forage is Eel Grass. As Chignik Lagoon continues to grow more silted-in and Eel Grass beds there expand, it will be interesting to see if in the future Brant begin to utilize this area. So why, as Brant feed extensively on Eel Grass, is their specific name “bernicla” (barnacle)? It was formerly believed that certain geese were spontaneously generated from barnacles. In fact, until fairly recently the Catholic Church permitted Catholics to eat these geese on Fridays as they counted as fish. See: Wikipedia.

The shifting forms flocks of geese glide in and out of invite a wandering imagination. With Sockeye Salmon soon to ascent the river, these Brant seem to be pointing the way. (May 3, 2018)

Brant Range Map: with permission from The Cornell Lab of Ornithology, Birds of the World

Brant Branta bernicla
Order: Anseriformes
Family: Anatidae
Branta: Latinized Old Norse Brandgás = burnt-black goose
bernicla: from the Latin for barnacle

Status at Chignik Lake, 2016-19: Spring & Fall migrant seen and heard flying in flocks

David Narver, Birds of the Chignik River Drainage, summers 1960-63: Rare on Chignik River

Alaska Peninsula and Becharof National Wildlife Refuge Bird List, 2010:
Uncommon in Spring; Common in Fall; Absent in Summer & Winter

Aniakchak National Monument and Preserve Bird List: Presence Documented

Previous Article: Cackling Goose (Aleutian Form) – Picture a Canada Goose with a White Necklace

Next Article: Mallard

*For a clickable list of bird species and additional information about this project, click here: Birds of Chignik Lake

© Photographs, images and text by Jack Donachy unless otherwise noted.

 

Birds of Chignik Lake: Red-necked Grebe

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What a beauty. The face striping marks this specimen as a juvenile. The Bend on the upper Chignik (just below the lake) proved to be a consistently reliable place to get close enough to waterfowl to score good photographs. (October 23, 2017)

Red-necked Grebes are another among the Chignik’s several fish-hunting birds. We didn’t see them often, but when they were on the lake or river we always grabbed our binoculars for a closer look. It’s a good bet that they breed on Black Lake or nearby tundra ponds.

Buffleheads, goldeneyes, mergansers… and center stage an adult Red-necked Grebe in nonbreeding plumage. (Chignik Lake, January 24, 2017)

These were two of three juveniles that visited the lake in the fall of 2017. (Chignik Lake, October 20, 2017)

Example of a Red-necked Grebe in breeding plumage. (Potter’s Marsh, Anchorage, Alaska. June 24, 2017)

Red-necked Grebe Range Map: with permission from The Cornell Lab of Ornithology, Birds of the World

Red-necked Grebe Podiceps grisegena
Order: Podicipediformes
Podiceps: from the Greek podicis = rump – refers to the posterior positioning of the grebe’s feet
grisegena: from the Latin griseus = gray & gena = cheek 

Status at Chignik Lake 2016-19: Occasional in Fall & Winter

David Narver, Birds of the Chignik River Drainage, summers 1960-63: Common on Black Lake; Rare on Chignik Lake

Alaska Peninsula and Becharof National Wildlife Refuge Bird List, 2010:
Uncommon in Spring, Summer & Fall; Rare in Winter

Aniakchak National Monument and Preserve Bird List: Presence Documented

Previous Article: Yellow-billed Loon

Next Article: Pied-billed Grebe – An Alaska Peninsula First

*For a clickable list of bird species and additional information about this project, click here: Birds of Chignik Lake

© Photographs, images and text by Jack Donachy unless otherwise noted.

 

Birds of Chignik Lake: Common Loon

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Common Loon – Chignik Lake, August 17, 2018

Words such as “common,” “uncommon” and “rare” can be vexingly imprecise. So, what are the chances of seeing a Common Loon on Chignik Lake? Generally pretty good, which prompts the question: Have Common Loons – which David Narver recorded us “uncommon” back in the early ’60’s – become more common on The Lake in recent years? And if so, does that explain the relative absence of the smaller Red-throated Loon – which Narver reported as “common?” I love questions like this, even if the answers are tough to know.

These Commons appeared to be cooperatively feeding as they worked their way along the shoreline. (Chignik Lake, January 14, 2018)

We encountered Common Loons with some frequency – as individuals, in pairs, and at times in what appeared to be family groups of four or five. Commons’ diets are comprised mainly of small fish – lots and lots of them. According the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, a pair with two chicks can consume about half a ton over a 15-week period. Unlike River Otters, mergansers and goldeneyes, Commons usually swallow their prey underwater. I was therefore unable to observe what species of fish they might be targeting. Sticklebacks, small char and juvenile salmon are all likely candidates. The system also holds populations of smelt and sculpins.

Right down to it’s gem-like eye and armed with a serious bill, Common Loons surely rank as one of North America’s most striking birds. (Chignik Lake, August 17, 2018)

Even in silhouette, there’s no mistaking a loon. (Common Loon, Chignik Lake, August 20, 2016)

Common Loon Range Map: with permission from The Cornell Lab of Ornithology, Birds of the World

Common Loon Gavia Immer
Order: Gaviiformes
Gavia: sea mew
immer: perhaps from the Latin immergo – to immerse; or from the Swedish immer – which refers to the ashes of a fire and suggesting the loon’s coloration

Status at Chignik Lake 2016-19: Common to Uncommon

David Narver, Birds of the Chignik River Drainage, summers 1960-63: Uncommon

Alaska Peninsula and Becharof National Wildlife Refuge Bird List, 2010:
Common in Spring and Summer; Uncommon in Fall; Rare in Winter

Aniakchak National Monument and Preserve Bird List: Presence Documented

Previous Article: Pacific Loon

Next Article: Yellow-billed Loon

*For a clickable list of bird species and additional information about this project, click here: Birds of Chignik Lake

© Photographs, images and text by Jack Donachy unless otherwise noted.

 

After the Fog Burned off – Eagles

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As swallows swooped and soared, this pair of Bald Eagles began a chorus of their characteristic high-pitched piping. The sunshine must’ve felt as good to them as it did to us.

Two days in a row we’ve woken to heavy fog here at The Lake. It wasn’t forecast either day. Yesterday by mid-morning, the mist had burned off. When it did, the birds came out in force. From our vantage point on the deck outside my “office,” Barbra and I saw or heard Pine Grosbeaks, Pine Siskins, Redpolls, Wilson’s Warblers, Ravens, Magpies, Golden-crowned Sparrows, American Robins, Fox Sparrows, Violet-green Swallows, Tree Swallows and out on the lake a small group of Black Scoters and a few passing Glaucus-winged Gulls. But the stars of the morning were a pair of mature Bald Eagles that took up perches on a favorite utility pole near the lakeshore.

This was the view from our dining room window yesterday morning just after dawn. The village of Chignik Lake lies only a few miles upriver from a bay on the Alaska Gulf, so we get our share of wet weather. 

As the sun began peeking through the fog, the first eagle to arrive did its best to dry its soggy wings. Either that, or this is one of those rare Peacock Eagles.

His (her?) mate hadn’t yet arrived and I moved a little closer to capture a portrait. Once the fog lifted, we had a day of blue skies. Temperatures climbed into the 60’s so we took the opportunity to work on our “Alaska Tans” – defined as tans that cover the backs of one’s hands, face and neck down to the level of a shirt or coat collar. But by early afternoon, it was warm enough (mid-60’s) to sit outside in a just a shirt, shorts and bare feet and read (Barbra) and play guitar (me).

While I worked on photos, Barbra scanned for birds from the deck outside her former classroom. Off in the distance to the right, along the far edge of the lake, the second eagle can be seen soaring low. (You might have to enlarge this photo.) The duplex in front of Barbra is where we live – on the righthand side. 

There are at least 50 nesting boxes in this bird-loving village of only about 50 to 70 residents. The boxes are occupied almost exclusively by either Violet-green or Tree Swallows. Both species seem inclined to investigate anything out of the ordinary in their neighborhood – us, eagles, other birds. The real threats to swallows are Chignik Lake’s abundant Magpies – notorious nest robbers. In years past, Merlins, Northern Shrikes and occasional Sharp-shinned Hawks have also posed a threat, but none of these species appear to be present this year – at least so far.

A mated pair? Siblings? Friends? (Do eagles have friends?) It was interesting to watch these two repeatedly mirror each other’s behavior. We’ve read about these dreaded Dracula Eagles – another rare sighting.

As I mentioned, we’ve had two consecutive mornings of heavy fog. Inspired by the way the morning cleared up yesterday, last evening we prepared our pack raft in anticipation of doing a three-mile river float today. Unfortunately, the weatherman got it completely wrong. The fog only grudgingly lifted late in the morning and instead of the calm that had been forecast, winds – the bane of rafting – kicked up. So I spent the morning working on photos. Yet hope springs eternal. The prediction for tomorrow morning is for partial sunshine and calm, so perhaps we can get in one last river float before we have to pack up the gear and mail it to Newhalen. Every hour of these final days at The Lake is a time to savor.

If you enjoyed this post and would like to see some of the birds mentioned and more of the landscape around Chignik Lake, check out the link below:

Morning Nature Walk, the Chigniks

Hope your day is going well!

The Hike to Clarks River: An Alaska-Sized Landscape on the Remote Southwest Peninsula

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Like a vast infinity pool, Chignik Lake pulls in the mountains and sky and seems to go on forever. 

We woke before dawn to clear skies, still air and frost. With noon temperatures projected to reach a nearly summer-like high of 50° F, it was the perfect day for the three-mile hike from Chignik Lake up to Clarks River. By the time we downed hot bowls of steel cut oats and slabs of energy-rich, thick-cut bacon, the sun had cleared the snow-capped mountaintops across the lake from our house. Outside the air was still brisk from the nighttime freeze, but American Robins, Golden-crowned Sparrows, Sooty Fox Sparrows, Pine Grosbeaks and Redpolls were already filling the sleepy village with song. We didn’t know it yet, but Violet-green Swallows would arrive later in the day to add to the chorus.

By the time we hit the trail, soft sunlight was beginning to brush the frost off crowberry plants and other vegetation.

Skim ice covered puddles and everything about the morning felt crisp and full of promise. Savannah Sparrows sang from brushy perches. Somewhere down by the lake a Sandhill Crane trumpeted in brassy notes. On a morning like this, there was no telling what we might see. I tapped the bear spray in my coat pocket. We stopped often to listen and to glass patches of open tundra and hillsides.

Most of the catkins were finished. In places bathed in light during these 18-hour spring days willows were leafed out in brilliant green.

As we approached Lower Pond, a pair of Black-capped Chickadees emerged from a tangle of still bare alders to look us over. A crane soared low over the path and landed somewhere out of sight. Fresh avalanche runs tongued the steep Chignik Mountain slopes, still buried in snow. When we hit the Blueberry Bog, a snipe exploded from an edge that often seems to have one of these wary, secretive birds. Mindful of not bothering a possible nest, we kept moving.

Barbra hikes into a landscape traversed by fewer than 100 living people. Clarks River lies straight ahead. The lake is to the right. 

As we hiked we noted that Fireweed shoots were at the perfect stage for picking. We’d brought along a small bag to gather some on the way back to add to the evening’s teriyaki salmon stir-fry.

Wildlife tracks ran all along the beach, their number and variety increasing the closer we got to the river. Seldom seen, wolves are always around, as this track attests.

One for the books, this is the largest Brown Bear track we’ve ever come across. With males routinely topping 1,000 pounds and sometimes exceeding a standing height of 9 feet, Chignik’s bears are among the world’s largest, rivaling those of Kodiak Island in size. An abundance of salmon makes for a healthy bear population – and a healthy ecosystem in general. Barbra’s sunglasses measure 5¾ inches from temple to temple.

In addition to lots of fox tracks, two sets of wolf tracks and several sets of bear tracks, it was evident that a troupe of River Otters had recently been through the area. Though it was mostly quiet under the mid-morning sun, a Red-throated Grebe rested out on the lake, and along the far shore we could just make out Scaup, a Red-breasted Merganser and a few Common Goldeneyes. Savannah Sparrows sang and flitted from bush to bush and as we approached the mouth of Clarks, a yellowlegs or perhaps a Wandering Tattler took off up the river.

The remains of a feast, this bleached piece of Red Salmon jaw was a reminder of last fall when the banks of Clarks were trampled down into a bear highway and the shores and shallows were carpeted with spawned-out Sockeyes and Silvers.

We paused to let our eyes search a pool below a beaver dam in a small tributary before Clarks, recalling a fall when we’d seen it stacked with maybe a thousand Coho Salmon. The beavers, like those salmon, are long gone. Tiny salmon fry and parr darted through the pool in tight schools, the parr occasionally rising to take a midge off the water’s surface. Around the pool’s edge, the first light pink salmonberry blossoms were opening.

Clarks River forks just before it debauches into the lake. This is the lower, quieter piece of water. In late summer and fall, tens of thousands of salmon ascend this cold, snow-fed river.

We found a warm spot in the sun on the sandy beach, made a makeshift picnic blanket of my coat amidst otter tracks, and had lunch. Magpies chattered from a distance as we scarfed down trail mix and reminisced about the fine fly-fishing we’d had at the mouth of this river for bright Silvers. You never stop scanning for bears when you’re out here, and of course there are the wolves. The salmon will return soon, new birds are steadily filling the landscape and there’s the prospect of getting that gargantuan Brown Bear in the view finder of one of our cameras – so many incentives to get out into this country to look around.

The Lake – for a Moment

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The Lake – for a Moment
Chignik Lake, Alaska, Dawn March 26, 2019

 

Singing His Heart Out: A Pleasant Morning at White Spruce Grove

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Resplendent! This male Pine Grosbeak came down from a tree crown to forage beneath one of the feeders at White Spruce Grove.

When we stepped out the door yesterday morning, the first thing we noticed was a new song in the air. A spring song. Returning Fox Sparrows have been the first to begin this each year we’ve been in Chignik Lake, but the warbling melody didn’t sound like a Fox Sparrow’s riff. We could see the bird, a plump silhouette atop a spruce tree near the church and since we were on the way to the White Spruce Grove to top off bird feeders anyway, the obvious choice of walking path was the one that would bring us nearer to the singer.

The female grosbeak briefly joined her mate.

Pine Grosbeak, brilliant red and singing for all he was worth. Quite a change from the brief but distinctive Peek Peek! we hear from this species throughout fall and winter. It wasn’t a new bird, but it was new behavior. We continued on the half-mile to the spruce grove with anticipation.

Our Pine Siskins were their usual raucous selves, singing, squabbling, gorging on seeds, darting from tree to tree.

Along the way scattered flocks of Pine Siskins buzzed and called from the sky and from a neighbors’ house where they sometimes take refuge in a few spruce trees while visiting the feeder there. Magpies, common here at The Lake, made their presence known, as did a woodpecker, almost certainly a Downy though we couldn’t find it. Further along a pair of Black-capped Chickadees gave a couple of their various calls from willows, the branches of the scrubby trees suddenly having turned bright yellow-green and beginning to bud.

My guess is that when the time comes, the siskins will head up the peninsula to the denser spruce forests around Lake Iliamna and similar places to nest, but they’ve been welcome winter visitors the past two years.

At the White Spruce Grove the usual Siskins, which showed up last fall and have spent the winter, were busy at the feeders as well as prying the last seeds from cones. But there were a few larger, rounder shapes foraging on the ground as well. We didn’t get our binoculars up in time to have a look, but as we were filling the feeders we heard the unmistakable plaintive song of Golden-crowned Sparrows.

There’s just a touch more gold in this Golden-crowned Sparrow’s crown than there may have been a month ago. He’s still a ways off from full breeding plumage though.

Sure enough, once we scattered a little seed along the brushy edge where they like to feed, they began to show up, and they brought a Dark-eyed Junco with them. Seldom observed out on the Alaska Peninsula – and absent altogether or marked with a question on most of the region’s birding lists – Juncos have shown up in small numbers each of the three winters we’ve spent here. In fact, we think we have the only documentation on the peninsula of Oregon race juncos.

While there have been fewer Juncos at the Lake than there were last year, every so often we see one or two or three.

The Golden-crowned Sparrows appear to have just begun growing in their breeding plumage. Some of the male Siskins though are already there, showing off brilliant canary yellow in their primaries. At one point a Belted Kingfisher rattled by, most likely a male getting things ready for the females that will soon return. Ravens called in throaty croaks from a far hill. No ducks on the water and no eagles on their usual perches, which is a little unusual. Perhaps the ducks are already up at Black Lake where most of the nesting occurs. Gulls will begin returning any day.

Sleepy but looking well fed, she lost both of her fully-fledged chicks last year, one to an electrical box on a utility pole and the other to some other cause. We’re hoping she nests again this year with much better luck.

We aren’t always lucky enough to see one and we rarely see both of them, but this was a red letter day as both of our Great Horned Owls – the female and the slightly smaller, more lightly colored male – were perched where we were able to find them. As is usually the case, they were buried in shadows behind thick evergreen boughs, aware of our presence but seemingly unconcerned. The ground beneath their favorite roosts is littered with bits of hair, feather, bone and beaks and oblong balls the size of two thumbs placed together packed tight with the remains of the various voles, Magpies, ermine, lemmings or whatever else constitutes one of their meals. Last year the female spent several days perched atop a winter-white Snowshoe Hare – several meals.

Discernibly smaller and with brighter plumage, we feel fairly certain that this is the male. The Ainu – Japan’s indigenous people – believed that owls protected their villages. They are certainly regal animals.

Frost on the ground this morning, but if you look closely at the photos, you can see other signs that spring is coming to Chignik Lake. Hopefully I’ll be posting a video of a Fox Sparrow singing in the near future.

With their uplifting songs and stunning plumage, if birds didn’t actually exist I don’t think we’d believe that they even could exist. They certainly brighten our world.