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
