Monday, October 14, 2024 Eagles, Shovelers, Swans, Magpies

Seward, Alaska

 

Sunrise 8:37 am, sunset 6:51 pm for a total day length of 10 hours and 14 minutes. Tomorrow will be 5 minutes and 23 seconds shorter.

 

Daylight is noticeably shorter and temperatures are easing downwards with a low last night of 35, rising to a mild 42 degrees by mid-afternoon. After Saturday’s rain and windstorm which knocked out power to Seward for nine hours (thank goodness for the city’s back-up generators!), today’s complete calm was a rare treat.

 

This morning, puddles perfectly reflected Mt Alice, radiant in her new winter cloak. Mirror after mirror revealed beauty framed by mud. These are the only mirrors I happily and momentarily break, leaving shimmering ripples in my tracks.

 

Five NORTHERN SHOVELERS, GREEN-WINGED TEAL, AMERICAN WIGEON, a few GADWALL, and MALLARDS lingered into late fall. I am always impressed by the giant orange bill of the Shoveler!

 

Exit Glacier Road was still open to traffic, so I drove out to say good-bye until spring. DOT may close the road at any time.

 

Seven adult TRUMPETER SWANS graced the eelgrass beds off Afognak Beach; two pairs and a three-some, plus a raft of Mallards and Wigeon, and SHORT-BILLED and GLAUCOUS-WINGED GULLS.

 

An adult Bald Eagle perched high in a spruce overlooking Afognak Creek. Her (?) bill was flecked with blood from a recent feast. She screeched while watching up to four BLACK-BILLED MAGPIES cautiously approach the salmon carcass on the bank and grab morsels. A DIPPER sang, unseen, nearby. 

 

When the sun shrugged off the clingy clouds, I actually felt its warmth. Savor the moment! The forecast calls for sunny and cold at the end of the week with a low of 21, and of course, a brisk north wind.

 

Happy Birding!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter

Sunday, September 22, 2024 Fall Equinox Bull Moose in Town

Seward, Alaska 

Sunrise 7:44 am, sunset 7:58 pm for a total day length of 12 hours and 13 minutes. Tomorrow will be 5 minutes and 25 seconds shorter. As usual, it takes a few more spins of the globe to actually reach equal day and night, but we celebrate with the rest of the world.

This afternoon, I donned my raincoat and went outside for a walk, not thinking any further than that. But my neighbor was intently taking photos of something across the street. A young bull moose with an impressive rack was strolling across the front lawn of the hospital! Emergency room staff popped out to take photos and videos as he passed, heading south down First Ave. 

We are accustomed to cow moose, often with calves in town, but a bull moose is very unusual. Does he know hunting season has begun and hunting is not allowed in city limits? 

I hurried back inside, grabbed my camera, then hopped in the car and refound him a block away on a nice, green lawn. His gleaming copper-colored antlers looked brand new, freshly scrubbed of its protective velvet. There he squatted, urinating for a very long time, (ahhhhh), then stirred up the anointed grass and dirt with his front hooves, making a potent perfumed bed. After nuzzling it into his fur to his satisfaction, he snorted loudly (oh!) and then lay down for a rest.

Apparently, the arrangement wasn’t quite right, so he got up and adjusted it again, then laid down facing another direction. The exertion caused steam to shoot out of his nostrils as he breathed, angled out like a fabled dragon. Wow! He looked regal.

I hope he enjoyed a nice rest on this urban lawn. Last report, he was up and walking farther south, past a rather busy apartment complex, probably causing more ripples of excitement in his wake.

An hour later, I spotted a momma moose with her small calf quietly feeding at Two Lakes Park, almost hidden in the leaves. I immediately retreated, abandoning all plans for the walk. She was more intimidating than the bull, knowing how very protective mommas can be without any provocation.

Happy Moose Day!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter

Sunday, September 15, 2024 Beach to Glacier Magic

Seward, Alaska

Sunrise 7:28 am, sunset 8:19 pm for a total day length of 12 hours and 51 minutes. Tomorrow will be 5 minutes and 24 seconds shorter.

After almost an inch of rain yesterday and strong wind, morning crept in quietly, wrapped in a soft gray shawl. I drove to the beach to see if any migrants spent the night. On my way, a coyote dashed across the road in front of me, ran several yards then stopped to listen intently. I pulled over and turned off the car as I grabbed my camera. After several long seconds, it ran back across the road and into the bushes. So exciting!

Walking through the sedges near the pond, dozens of silent mayfly-type insects rose up around me. Their upright posture and dangling legs reminded me of  winged dandelion seeds floating in the air. Must be a late hatch that was just waiting for the rain to stop. A dragonfly zoomed nearby, perhaps looking for breakfast.

At the beach, a very late GREATER YELLOWLEGS stalked an intertidal puddle as if it were still summer, gobbling what I think were sticklebacks or possibly pink salmon fry. Dozens of AMERICAN WIGEON dabbled at the incoming tide’s edge in an array of plumages.

Up ahead, an adult BALD EAGLE perched on a driftwood log, busily preening as white downy feathers wafted away. I felt lucky to watch this regal eagle in such an intimate and relaxed moment; usually they feel compelled to look fierce and ready for action.

I did not find a reported Northern Harrier or any tired Cranes.

As the clouds drifted away, I drove to the Mile 1 Nash Road wetlands. This time, the Trumpeter Swan family lingered in the open. Two of the adult-sized, gray cygnets napped in the welcome sunshine while the other two reached deep for salad. The majestic adults preened; more white feathers floated off. It won’t be long before these 3 ½ month-old cygnets take flight.

Three more adult Swans fed at Preacher Pond near the Nash Road/Seward Highway intersection. Lovely to see.

At noon, I loaded up my ebike and drove to the Box Canyon pullout for a ride to Exit Glacier. The air smelled like fall; cottonwood leaves already fading from gold and fireweed a deep maroon mixed with green. Six weeks to snow? I hope not so soon!

A small cloud shaded the glacier for most of my trip with perfect but annoying placement. On the way back, I was able to wait for it to mosey along while I watched the sun gradually ignite the surrounding mountains, then cottonwoods, and finally the glacier. 

Exit Glacier may be exiting, but it’s still spectacular. The medial moraine loaded with stolen scraped rocks snaked down the middle; deep blue crevasses showed the stress of the ice bending and cracking. The glacier imperceptibly flowed behind a belt of green and gold cottonwoods before escaping into the outwash plain in many liquid braids.  Another magical day!

Happy Birding!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter

 

 

 

 

Friday, September 13, 2024 Alien Moon over Bay

Seward, Alaska

 

While diligently working away at my computer, I casually glanced out the window and saw an enormous, coppery-colored ¾ moon rising far to the south over Resurrection Bay. Abandoning all, I grabbed my camera and keys and dashed to the unobstructed view from shore.

 

In just those few minutes, the moon had launched off her mountain peak perch and floated above the slumbering ridges. She was an unbelievably gorgeous and mysterious alien orb. Moonlight flickered in the calm bay, following her path like a devotee. 

 

A tiny light far down the bay marked a fishing boat chugging to port after many days working at sea. The massive moon sailed passively along behind, unconcerned about the boatload of humans eager to get home, me admiring her with awe, or the billions of other Earthlings busy with their challenges and triumphs.

 

An otherwise insignificant cloud randomly parked above the splendid moon swallowed her up, bit by bit as she rose imperiously into the sky, until there was nothing more to see. 

 

Burp!

 

Happy Birding!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter

 

  

Sunday, September 8, 2024 Early fall surprises

Seward, Alaska

 

Sunrise 7:12 am, sunset 8:41 pm, for a total day length of 13 hours and 29 minutes. Tomorrow will be 5 minutes and 24 seconds shorter.

 

The forecasted rain held off until Wednesday, when we got dumped with heavy rain for several days. Yesterday, however was a dazzling beauty. The greatly anticipated sunshine this afternoon did not materialize, but at least it only misted. More rain until Friday with temps ranging from lows in the mid-40s to highs in the low 50s.

 

The afternoon walk at the tidelands began with a little excitement at seeing two young SEMI-PALMATED PLOVERS, five WESTERN SANDPIPERS, one SEMI-PALMATED SANDPIPER, and three SPOTTED SANDPIPERS. They all seem to be lingering late.

 

After a lull, a PEREGRINE FALCON shot over the beach rye grass and zoomed across the flats, stroking powerfully. Too fast to even think about a photo. It landed far out on a snag to plot and plan for its supper. Two AMERICAN PIPITS, possibly startled in the backdraft, cried out their identity and flew erratically away.

 

Then another little break, until…what’s that? A brief bugling? Sure enough, six fabulous SANDHILL CRANES circled lower and then flew right past my hurried hiding place behind a piece of driftwood. O, so magnificent! That, to me, means Fall has officially begun. I hope I’m in the right place at the right time to hear and see more on their journey south.

 

On the way back to the car, two SAVANNAH SPARROWS flitted between the lupines laden with gray, furry seed pods, and a LINCOLN’S SPARROW darted nervously though an alder’s branches. Such a handsome bird.

 

Happy Birding!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter

 

Sunday, September 1, 2024 Creeper to Goshawk

Seward, Alaska 

Sunrise 6:55 am, sunset 9:02 pm for a total day length of 14 hours and 7 minutes. Tomorrow will be 5 minutes and 23 seconds shorter as we race towards the Fall Equinox on September 22 at 4:43 am.

 

After day after day of dreary drizzle, sprinkles, and actual rain, the dazzling sun emerged victorious. The low today was 43, and the high a pleasant 54º; calm then a rising 6 mph south wind by afternoon with gusts to 13 mph. Overcast until Wednesday and then more rain in the forecast until Saturday. Sigh.

 

Yesterday morning was amazing. I caught a glimpse of a camouflaged BROWN CREEPER ratcheting up my spruce tree on one side while an industrious RED-BREASTED NUTHATCH pounded a sunflower seed into a crevice in the bark on the other side. CHESTNUT-BACKED and BLACK-CAPPED CHICKADEES took turns at the feeder, selecting one seed to go. Young STELLER’S JAYS inquisitively flipped chunks of moss off the roof shingles. 

 

Then an unseen ROBIN sang a complete verse of his sweet song, unbidden. A VARIED THRUSH in the distance wheezed out a teakettle sigh. Up piped a FOX SPARROW concealed inside a large Goatsbeard jungle, venturing just a few chips. Overhead, a COMMON REDPOLL blew raspberries. What a great way to greet the morning! 

 

That evening, two DARK-EYED JUNCOS foraged for fallen seeds under the feeder; haven’t seen Juncos for months.

 

Today, I discovered two distant DOWITCHERS at the estuary pond, earnestly prodding for tidbits in the shallows. No other shorebirds were heard or seen. 

 

ROBINS sallied forth from red elderberry bushes, bright with ripe fruit, and then two RUSTY BLACKBIRDS flew from the nearby spruce woods, creaking as they went. 

 

On a late afternoon walk at Two Lake Park in town, a tawny juvenile AMERICAN GOSHAWK* streaked across First Lake, straight towards me, apparently startled by some people on the opposite shore. It flared its long banded tail and landed high in a nearby cottonwood, disappearing instantly into the crown of leaves. Wow! A cheeky Red Squirrel chose to scold at that moment, probably not a wise move with that predator nearby.

 

* (I just learned that the Northern Goshawk was split by the American Ornithological Society into American Goshawk and Eurasian Goshawk in 2023. Another species to relearn…)

 

Such a serendipitous few days!

 

Happy Birding!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Friday, August 9, 2024 Shorebirds, and industrious Dipper

Seward, Alaska

Sunrise 6:00 am, sunset 10:08 pm, for a total day length of 16 hours and 8 minutes. Tomorrow will be 5 minutes and 8 seconds shorter.

A day of grace today after torrential rain and flooding for the past three days. Lovely, lovely sunshine and blue sky. It’s a wonder. The overnight temperature dipped to 45 and rose to 58º with an undecided wind waffling around the compass rose. More bouts of heavy rain in the forecast.

I visited Afognak Beach this afternoon, mercifully devoid of anglers. Small mixed flocks of peeps including WESTERN, LEAST, and SEMIPALMATED SANDPIPERS, and SEMIPALMATED PLOVERS picked through the tidbits left by the storm. BALD EAGLES perched on the flats, eyeing the menu spread before them.

Along the flood-altered shore of Afognak Creek, I hit a small but rewarding bonanza: two GREATER YELLOWLEGS, one SPOTTED SANDPIPER, one SOLITARY SANDPIPER, one BELTED KINGFISHER, and a DIPPER, rock stars all.

The Solitary Sandpiper sporting bold white eye-rings was a special treat as I haven’t seen one in a long time. It hunted amicably along the water’s edge and in the sandbar with the Greater Yellowlegs and Spotted Sandpiper. 

I was surprised by the prominence of its whitish eyebrows that met at the forehead and tried hard to turn it into a Gray-tailed Tattler, without success. It didn’t bob very much, unlike Spotty, whose lively rear section ran on autopilot.

Later, I read a cool fact that Solitary Sandpipers nest in trees, 4-40’ above ground, and may take over a freshly-built songbird nest like that of a Robin or Rusty Blackbird. Imagine that!

A DIPPER swooped low over their heads, a small act of aggression by a resident on seasonals in its territory. After failing to drive anything away, it landed on a nearby log, then flew to the water’s edge across from where I sat and began hunting. 

Poking its waterproof gray head underwater, it rummaged around and then, time after time, pulled out a caddisfly larva, shook it out of its supposedly camouflaged and unprotective case, then guzzled it down. It was amazing how many the Dipper found in a very short section of this productive creekside.

The Belted Kingfisher rattled overhead, flashing from one leafy perch to another and disappeared around the bend.

After that big storm and heavy rain, everything and everyone seemed glad for this sunny reprieve.

 

Happy Birding!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter