Saturday, February 5, 2022 A fun but monochrome day to bird

Seward, Alaska

Sunrise 9:03 am, sunset 5:22 pm for a total day length of 8 hours and 19 minutes. Tomorrow will be 5 minutes and 9 seconds longer.

 

Monochrome day today; the flat pewter sky merged with the calm silver bay. Temperatures continued mild with a low of 29 to a high of 38; the bay hovers around 43º. A brisk south wind lost interest early and gave up entirely but the north wind picked up in the evening. Snow and snow showers forecast for next week.

 

On Wednesday, Robin C reported 2 male and one female Green-winged Teal at Clear Creek and an AMERICAN TREE SPARROW at Ava’s off Salmon Creek Road. He has consistently located the TOWNSEND’S SOLITAIRE in town, generally along Second Avenue and often near the historic Episcopalian Church at Second and Adams. 

 

Also on Wednesday, David J reported three species of Loon at the harbor entrance: 2 COMMON, 1 YELLOW-BILLED, and a very unusual (for Seward) RED-THROATED LOON.

 

I searched the Uplands and harbor since then but only refound the juvenile Common Loon, several red-eyed HORNED GREBES, sleek PELAGIC CORMORANTS, GOLDENEYES, and even a pair of GREATER SCAUP, all busy fishing. 

 

In addition, today, two male BARROW’S and COMMON GOLDENEYES worked along the breakwater rocks, nibbling on mussels and other treats exposed at low tide. A BELTED KINGFISHER flashed past; a SONG SPARROW called from the rocks.

 

While at the harbor, I enjoyed a serene HARBOR SEAL lounging at the surface like an inflatable toy, its nostril flared wide open to breathe, and then slit shut to dive. Such big, liquid brown eyes and long whiskers (vibrissae)! Silently, a second seal surfaced, then both submerged simultaneously. Sssss.

 

I spotted a Sea Otter stretched out, sleeping on the swim platform at the stern of a boat, snoring away, not a care in the world. More industrious were two River Otters, resting on the rocks, feasting on fresh fish. One Otter struggled to subdue its uncooperative fish and finally chomped it into smaller chunks. 

 

I headed to the tidelands to search for the Snow Buntings and two McKay’s Buntings reported earlier this week. Instead I found 50 ROCK SANDPIPERS chittering gaily and snarfing up invisible (to me) invertebrates and clams. Flashes of yellow legs and yellow-orange bill bases brightened the monochrome palette. One drab-brown DUNLIN with a long droopy bill mingled with them, enjoying their company and protection.

 

A male BELTED KINGFISHER waited patiently for dinner by a creek.

 

Tasha reported a pair of GREEN-WINGED TEAL at the tidelands and a NORTHERN SHRIKE. The bird scene is dynamic!

 

Late in the afternoon over at Afognak Beach, Tasha discovered a large flock of 80+ SNOW BUNTINGS and at least two MCKAY’S BUNTINGS in the beach rye grass at the high tide line. This is the highest number of Buntings this year, and so exciting to have McKay's here.

 

Once again, the birds and other wildlife brightened an otherwise dim winter day.

 

Happy Birding!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter

Monday, January 31, 2022 Common Redpolls

Seward, Alaska

Sunny, 15-27º, north wind.

Just by chance, I happened to be standing quietly near a nice cluster of catkin-laden alders at Lowell Point State Recreation Site. Not a bird was heard, none in sight. I waited. Then suddenly, a flock of about 20 COMMON REDPOLLS swarmed to an alder farther away and began extracting the tiny seeds from the woody, cone-like catkins. I waited.

 

Sure enough, bit by bit, they moved closer and closer. Finally, the small finches were right by me, giving me wonderful views of their red caps and raspberry-pink fronts. A rump view looked like Nature took a small brush and carefully added rosy marks to the light brown canvas above the tail.

 

The Redpolls bounced like bumblebees from one catkin to the next, making quick work of the snacks. Grasping the catkins with strong, black toes, they nonchalantly hung upside down, sideways, and perched on top. Their yellow bills deftly extracted the tiny nutlets, peeled away the papery wings, and gobbled them down.

 

Upon an invisible signal, they all surged to the next alder, fleeced its calories, and then swirled away, leaving me with the quiet once again. I waited. Hearing and seeing none, I reluctantly left the park and the sun, knowing a week of mixed rain/snow/sleet was forecast. 

 

Happy Birding!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter

 

 

Friday, January 28, 2022 Seabirds up close at the Alaska Sealife Center

Seward, Alaska

Dark clouds bearing rain, snow, or mixed. Air temp 30º, water temp 42º.

 

I checked on the seabirds in the ASLC aviary today and found many plumage changes since my last visit on December 12. The KING EIDERS, SPECTACLED EIDERS, RHINOCEROUS AUKLETS, SMEW, HARLEQUIN DUCKS, and LONG-TAILED DUCK drake are in full breeding plumage, looking very spiffy indeed. 

 

The tufts are growing longer on several of the TUFTED PUFFINS. The HORNED PUFFINS still wear winter plumage. Some of the COMMON MURRES sport the two-tone tuxedo while others are still in winter/immature plumage. 

 

Two Murres allopreened, a tender courtship bonding where one solicitously preened the head and neck of the other. After a while, they switched. They both radiated little hearts.

 

The PIGEON GUILLEMOTS are still in mostly salt-and-pepper winter plumage, though one was molting into darker head feathers.

 

All these departing and sprouting feathers must itch; many of the seabirds preened and bathed, splashing water thither and yon in case visitors wanted a shower too. 

 

It’s just amazing to see all these beautiful seabirds so close, especially on an undecided, dark winter day.

 

Happy Birding!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter

 

Thursday, January 27, 2022 Danger at Twilight!

Seward, Alaska

Nine minutes after the 5 pm sunset, I happened to be outside in the yard near some spruce trees. A sudden feathery fluttering in the nearby boughs drew my attention. I caught a glimpse of a BLACK-CAPPED CHICKADEE diving in, heading to roost for the night. How nice. 

 

But no! The Chickadee sped through. Almost instantly, an adult NORTHERN SHRIKE appeared in full pursuit! In a blur of black and white, the Shrike chased the desperate Chickadee in evasive maneuvers through the dense branches and then out in the open past me. I could have touched them, had I not been too surprised to move. 

 

As they raced by the compost bin, the Chickadee swerved low and around but the Shrike decided to dash over. Splat! It hit some wire fencing around the bin and spread-eagled mid-flight. O no! I mobilized towards it to help but it quickly recovered and disappeared. Whew! 

 

The Shrike probably wobbled to a secluded spot to try to figure out what the heck just happened to it and the dinner it anticipated just a second ago. The Chickadee? I hope it found a safe roost for the night too.

 

Danger lurks in the dim twilight for the pursued and pursuer!

 

Happy Birding!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter 

 

 

Tuesday, January 25, 2022 Spectacular Winter Day, Common Loon, Crows

Seward, Alaska

In the gloomy fog this morning around 11 am, I found the ROBINS, a dozen, quietly perched like ornaments in a sleeping maple tree. One, then another flew across Second Ave to check out the few remaining berries on two old Mt Ash trees. Another night survived, and the search for breakfast had begun. I hope it was “fruitful”!

 

As I headed down towards Resurrection Bay, a thick layer of gray clouds blanketed the mountains down to the shore. The ebbing tide enticed me to visit Afognak Beach, but I hesitated as I wouldn’t see much or very far. 

 

I drove through spitting sleet anyway and a short time later, clambered over the plowed berm and followed fresh moose tracks down the snow-trampled path to the beach.

 

To my joy, the sleet soon stopped and the sun struggled out of the clouds and struck the mountains above Seward like a spotlight. Wreathed in clouds below, the spectacular, snowy peaks rose up with stark blue shadows only seen in winter. Fantastico! My camera agreed and clicked away.

 

In the distance, I counted 15 TRUMPETER SWANS, all adult, feeding on eel grass. Tiny specks resolved into ROCK SANDPIPERS, poking and probing the receding tideline. MALLARDS paddled nearby. The two Swan families and the rest of the 33 Swans known to overwinter here were missing, hopefully feeding in the many streams at the head of the bay.

 

As I wandered across the tide flats, I encountered the giant webbed tracks of a pair of Swans strolling together, and another set from a single Swan. Such huge birds!

 

Snow-burdened dark clouds glowered from the Gulf to the south. Fog shrouded Mt Alice to the east while layers lifted and dissipated to the west. Soon, the north wind spoke up and snow streamers trailed off the Race Point and Mt Benson under a blue sky. I gaped in wonder at the ever-changing beauty of the scenery. The sun even felt a bit warm! What a welcome respite from all the rain!

 

I gathered tangled fishing line left from the countless red salmon fishers of last summer, cutting it off debris. Then I saw a tragic, silent tale of entanglement; a white bone caught in fishing line swinging from a downed tree mired in the water. So sad!

 

I left the beach and headed home. But the sun beckoned; I veered to the boat harbor for more. AMERICAN CROWS mobbed the parking lot. An adult GLAUCOUS-WINGED GULL in full breeding plumage, its winter streaking now white, watched with a first winter youngster.

 

A single juvenile COMMON LOON dove in the harbor entrance with 7 HORNED GREBES and 10 BARROW’S GOLDENEYES. The Loon stretched and then dove towards the harbor. I took a chance and headed down the gangplank to the nearest dock.

 

More Crows! The low tide exposed a feast of blue mussels clinging tightly to the algae-festooned rocks where the clever Crows shopped for lunch. With a fresh mussel in beak, they flew over to the dock to peck it open, held firmly underfoot. Once the attachment muscle was cut, the mussel meat slid down like an oyster. Empty mussel shells left evidence of many a fine, gourmet meal.

 

I waited in vain for the Loon to show up. Feeling a bit chilled by the wind, I slowly walked back, watching the Crows feeding. Suddenly, the Loon popped up close by the dock finger, fish in bill. Quickly, it dove and resurfaced a long ways back towards the harbor entrance, fish still in beak. I could see the fish tail and part of its spine. I wonder if it was partially eaten or already a fragment when caught? The Loon worked it over to get it positioned and swallowed it down. Not wishing to harass it further, I headed back up the ramp as the sun slid behind Bear Mt, plunging me and the town into shadows once again.

 

As I finally headed home, I felt recharged and full of gratitude for this glorious day. I suspect the birds did too!

Many thanks to Sulli for patiently helping me with Gull identification.

 

Happy Birding!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter

 

 

 

Monday, January 24, 2022 Gray-crowned Rosy-finch

Seward, Alaska

About an inch of snow fell overnight, then it warmed up creating deep, sloppy slush. Apparently, the weather and roads are bad Peninsula-wide, bad enough to delay most Kenai Peninsula schools by 2 hours tomorrow.

 

Despite the slop and rain, I scored on my First-of -Year GRAY-CROWNED ROSY-FINCH, one of three reported in town. It was feeding on fallen and discarded Mt Ash berries with a few PINE GROSBEAKS on Second Ave. The dapper TOWNSEND’S SOLITAIRE hopped up on the fence; nice to see it again. The berries looked shriveled. I hope the birds will extract enough sustenance to keep them alive. 

 

A small flock of Gray-crowned Rosy-finches was reported last week in Crown Point area, and before that south of the Y by Tern Lake. 

 

Robin C found the flock of ROBINS a block south on Second, but I missed them. I’ll look tomorrow.

 

Thanks to the slop, I was able to find my FOY DIPPER at First Lake without falling on an icy trail. It was standing on the ice at the outlet to the lake, dipping, thinking about diving in again. Tough birds, all!

 

Happy Birding!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter

January 23, 2022 Townsend’s Solitaire, Chatty Raven, Rock Sandpipers

Seward, Alaska

Sunrise 9:32 am, sunset 4:48 pm for a total day length of 7 hours and 16 minutes. Tomorrow will be 4 minutes and 33 seconds longer. 

 

Unseasonably warm weather from last week continued today with highs in the upper 30s, even to 40, and lows not much lower. Meltwater and rain flowed freely over icy streets creating pop-up car washes in low spots. Crusty snow struggles to hang on with ever-widening bare patches. 

A massive landslide was reported on the Coastal Trail between Tonsina Point and Caines Head. I even found spruce buds opening with tender, green new needles optimistically peeking out. Mt Ash and Mayday berries are rapidly diminishing for our fruit-loving species including Pine Grosbeaks and Robins. 

 

This afternoon, I stopped by the berry bushes near the laundromat and found another frugivore, the adult TOWNSEND’S SOLITAIRE. It quietly perched nearby, raindrops on its gray feathered raincoat, posed in distinguished and understated elegance as if for a portrait: thin white eye ring, buffy brown wing patches, and white outer tail feathers. I last found it several weeks ago perched at the top of a spruce, calling in the dawn. The distinctive sound somehow reminded me of the pinging of a submarine (as heard in the movies.)

 

I next headed to the beach to escape the treacherous ice. A very chatty RAVEN flew over and joined me for most of my walk. I wonder if he’s the same one I’ve talked with before? He flew along with me, landing on the ground or perched on nearby driftwood, expounding on the light stinging rain, the mounds of storm-tossed beach wrack sprinkled with colorful Baltic Macoma clam shells, the wonderful find of a mermaid’s purse washed ashore, and best of all, a piece of wood to play with. 

 

I so enjoyed his varied vocalizations, ranging from raucous croaking to sweet little trills. “Kaowah!” “PukUk!” “Whoo!” “Bukbukbuk!” Two other Ravens flew in to check on the scene but didn’t linger. They apparently had important things to do, unlike my carefree friend.

 

Incidentally, I learned that “puk-uk” is a Inupiaq word meaning “poking around and getting into things” which perfectly describes the Raven. http://www.pukuk.com/MVpukuk.html

 

As the tide crept in, about 50 ROCK SANDPIPERS (and likely a few DUNLINS) followed the edge, wading in the shallow water, picking and probing ravenously. Some paddled across the deeper sections, an odd sight. It’s always wonderful to see shorebirds in the winter, doing well.

Three SHORT-BILLED GULLS joined in the feast.

 

As I left the beach, the Raven veered away, intent on other entertainment. “Pukuk!” He sure entertained me!

Check out this article in WHSRN, Western Hemisphere Shorebird Reserve Network: <https://whsrn.org/why-mud-matters> There's more to mudflats than meets the human eye.

Last Wednesday, I experienced a different bird conversation. While I was loitering on the deck, a BLACK-CAPPED CHICKADEE popped up in the nearby elderberry and began scolding me. “DEE-DEE-DEE!” Well, sez I cheerily, “Dee-dee to you!” It hopped to a closer branch as if I hadn’t heard properly, and scolded again, “DEE-DEE-DEE!!!” 

 

Oh! Sorry! I got the hint and quickly left. Immediately, the little bird zipped into the waiting swallow box to settle down for the night. I checked my watch, 4:48 pm. Exactly 10 minutes after sunset. That’s bedtime for Chickadees! If it wasn’t raining so much, I’d try to monitor this little guy to see if bedtime corresponds to the growing day length.

 

Happy Birding!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter