Seward, Alaska
Sunrise 10:02 am, sunset 3:58
pm for a total of 5 hours and 55 minutes. Tomorrow will be 1 minute and 35
seconds longer.
Without the wind rattling
around, it seemed quite mild and very pleasant today with temps from 32 to a
high of 37ยบ. The sun shone wanly
behind pewter-colored clouds as it rolled across the southern sky. More
impressive were the brilliant white, snowy peaks to the north etched into a backdrop of blue-gray clouds. Winter light, a symphony of blues, is so subtle and
special.
Around noon, I checked the
spruce-willow-alder hedge at Madison Street and Second Avenue. A glimpse of DARK-EYED JUNCOS
on the ground and in the branches gave me hope. Soon, a droopy-winged VARIED
THRUSH popped out, as bright as a pumpkin. I wondered if it was injured. As
soon as it disappeared into the undergrowth, the female BRAMBLING flew out and
briefly sat on a branch as if to say, "hello," then
"later!" as it flew off across Second Ave.
I checked the feeders in the
alley between Second and Third Ave, just a few houses north. An OREGON JUNCO flew back and forth
from a branch to the suet feeder, feasting as it twirled around. Juncos are
usually content to scavenge on the ground, but at least some know how to feed
at the source.
Dairy Hill featured a ruckus
of RAVENS, parading around, horns up, their magnificent, iridescent shaggy
throat and pantaloon feathers ruffled out. They didn't care for company and
most leapt into the air and away, jousting and cracking jokes. The one that
lingered paused to look at me; his eye seemed to hold the wisdom of many years.
Awesome ravens!
Ava's was quiet except for a
few BLACK-CAPPED CHICKADEES, RED-BREASTED NUTHATCHES, and a HAIRY WOODPECKER.
No sign of the Swamp Sparrow. I headed for Mile 3, Nash Road to look for the
Killdeer. The tide was fairly high, but receding. Hmmm. I could rush around and
look for other birds at the end of Nash Road, or just stay and enjoy this place
at this time. What a delight to relax, to stop wishing I were some place else,
and to savor the moment and place at hand.
I wandered down the beach,
following the retreating tideline, and found myself at the head of the bay on
the east side of the Resurrection River. I spotted the large flock of about 70 SNOW
BUNTINGS in the distance, feeding in the gravelly tide flats. Perhaps they were
getting grit, or marine invertebrates out there. I took several distant images,
content to watch them without disturbance. After a while, they took flight to
the beach ryegrass amidst the snow along shore, busily feeding on seeds.
I turned my attention to the
astonishing number of MEW GULLS at the tide's edge and along Salmon Creek and
Resurrection River. Where were they during Count Week and Count Day? There may
have been upwards of 200 packed along the tide line. NORTHWESTERN CROWS worked
the beach alongside them, pulling out marine invertebrates and mussels.
Suddenly, I heard a whirring
of wings and high cries; the SNOW BUNTINGS flew all around me then settled to
feed nearby. How amazing to have them come to me! After enjoying the show, I
meandered along the ocean floor, now far from shore as the tide continued its
retreat.
The Mew Gulls and Crows
leap-frogged along, foraging the recently revealed banquet that only they could
find. As I watched, a small flock of tiny shorebirds joined the gulls. I
slowly approached, counting 9 ROCK SANDPIPERS feeding furiously, their bills
busily probing in the shallow water.
As I reached the rocky
intertidal area in front of Afognak Beach around 2:30 pm, I listened and looked
for the KILLDEER without success. Visiting birders from Soldotna and Kodiak (!)
had not seen it either. I hope it's still around, but one never knows with
birds.
As the sun slipped behind the
western mountains, it was time to head home.
What a treat to be content to
travel widely in such a small space!
Of note: the visiting birders finally did find the SWAMP SPARROW. Yea!
Happy Birding!
Carol Griswold
Seward, Alaska
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