Wednesday, March 16, 2022 Elephant Seal!

Seward, Alaska 

A Northern Elephant Seal was reported hauled out along Waterfront Beach in front of town on Friday afternoon, March 11. It soon disappeared, likely due to disruption by passing people and dogs on the nearby waterfront path.

A few days later, it lumbered up a boat ramp at the fenced Seward Marine Science Center next to the Alaska Sealife Center. There, it rested in peace behind the locked gate. Staff from the ASLC surveilled it from a distance and determined that it was a juvenile. 

It suffered numerous cuts and scrapes. Distinctive circular wounds were attributed to cookie cutter sharks, a foot-long shark that inhabits warm, oceanic water 64-79º like southern California and farther south. 

Elephant seals have visited Seward in the past, causing quite a stir, but this is the earliest record. In May of 2019 two hauled out on Seward area beaches to rest and molt.

After lingering at the Seward Marine Science Center parking lot for a few days, it disappeared once again.

Elephant seals are true seals like our harbor seals. They spend most of their lives at sea, coming ashore only to give birth, breed, and molt. They are famous for migrating many thousands of miles from their breeding grounds in California or Baja California. The males feed along the continental shelf near the eastern Aleutian Islands and in the Gulf of Alaska; the females feed in the offshore waters of the NE Pacific Ocean but as far west as Hawaii.

It's not called "elephant" for nothing. The females can weigh from 880-1,980 pounds and grow to 8-12 feet long; the males range from 3,300-5,100 pounds and 13-16' in length. Some males weigh up to 8,200 pounds!!!

The males develop a large proboscis reminiscent of an elephant's trunk, which is used to make loud, roaring sounds, and also as a rebreather to reabsorb and conserve moisture while stationed without food or water on their breeding beach.

Thanks to Wiki and NOAA for these and many other details about their incredible lives. What a treat to get a glimpse of this fascinating seal, resting and recuperating on our northern shores.

Happy Birding! (while looking for elephant seals!)

Carol Griswold

Seward, Alaska

 

 

 

Tuesday, March 15, 2022 Mountain Goats!

Seward, Alaska

Seward's snowy mountain slopes may look spectacular, but the deep snow and crusty surface has forced hungry mountain goats to descend to the forest to find food.

Thus, I was watching for mountain goats on the cliffs and steep slopes of Bear Mountain, while dodging potholes and rocks as I slowly drove along Lowell Point Road. Suddenly, I spotted three goats in a snow patch at the top of a large slide zone, much creamier in color than the white snow. Then three more in the hemlock-spruce forest above, grazing in the mossy green vegetation and browsing on tree needles and still-dormant twigs. Wow! Six goats! I immediately pulled over and started clicking away.

Another goat emerged from the north (right) edge of the slide, pausing to nibble on alder twigs before ambling across the treacherous, steep slope. She paused on a dirt outcrop, posing like a Mt Marathon racer at the glory rock, and regarded me calmly. Her shaggy fur coat looked freshly brushed and cleaned, even her fashionable beard and the stockings below her knickers were clean. Such a pretty nanny!

As she carefully negotiated the remainder of the slide crossing, little rocks pattering down, another pretty nanny appeared from the north side. She too, approached the glory rock and posed! Before she left, she turned to look back and waited. More were coming

The next nanny had a distinctive left horn with a bent and enlarged tip. She followed the other nanny, but then stopped to look back. Another nanny was coming, browsing on the alder twigs. It looked like she was smiling.

After she crossed, here came a darling yearling, her wide-spaced, tiny horns barely erupted. Her feet and belly were brown with mud. After consideration, she crossed from snow patch to dirt slope, following the others. At the edge of the crossing, she joined the last nanny, likely her mom, and they strolled off together. Was that all?

No! Next came two-year old kid with horns almost as long as her ears. When she successfully reached the end, she looked back. Now who?

Another adorable two-year old. Her twin? She too, posed mid-way and looked back. This herd really kept track of each other! Here came a nanny, perhaps her mom. Then another nanny followed closely by an adorable yearling with tiny horns. The baby bravely and deliberately crossed the unstable steep slope, rocks skittering underfoot.

As the one left the slope, another entered as if on cue, this time another two-year old with horns about as long as its ears. Then another kid, its twin? I was losing track! As the last one reached and posed at the glory rock, she too looked behind. Here came another nanny, perhaps the mom.

That group soon disappeared as another nanny emerged. This one seemed to be molting with a decidedly shorter patch on the hind leg. She posed on the glory rock and looked behind, but I didn't see anyone else coming. Maybe she was the caboose, and, as a good leader, just making sure everyone had crossed.

What a magical encounter! I estimate a minimum of 13 adults, two yearlings, and four two-year old kids for a total of 19 mountain goats that ambled across that slide in a steady stream over a span of 15 minutes. 

I understand the billy goats are not welcome to join the nannies and babies in the winter when food is very scarce (enforced by the moms' sharp horns). The billies fend for themselves, ranging far and wide, leaving the more accessible food for the vulnerable family group. 

What I find even more amazing about these incredible and hardy year-round residents, is that the pregnant nannies are basically eating a starvation diet of twigs, hemlock needles, dead grasses and sedges, seaweed, and whatever else might provide calories to feed themselves and their growing babies. With such shaggy coats, I could not tell if any were pregnant, but one can hope!

Around Mother's Day, in the second week of May, they will give birth to singles, or sometimes twins, and the cycle of life begins anew. 

Happy Birding! (while watching for mountain goats)

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter

 

 

 

Sunday, March 6, 2022 Beautiful day and boat harbor birds

Seward, Alaska

 

Sunrise 7:42 am, sunset 6:38 pm for a total day length of 10 hours and 55 minutes. Tomorrow will be 5 minutes and 29 seconds longer.

 

Ahhh, sunshine! So welcome after the many days of successive storms and sn'rain. After an overnight low of 25, the high today reached a balmy 41 that actually felt warm. As per usual, the north wind couldn't resist demanding some attention too, and ripped around at 12-18 mph with gusts to 26.

 

Nature whipped off her secretive grey shroud to reveal her masterpieces: brilliant white snowscapes on the surrounding spectacular mountains. Snow devils and streamers danced off the summits for a final artistic touch. 

 

I wandered around the boat harbor floats, where the warm sun neutralized the wind. Sheltered between the rows of vessels, the water was remarkably calm. Singly and in small flocks, sea birds quietly dove for fish. 

 

HORNED GREBES, red-orange eyes aglow, popped up and watched warily before diving under the floats to reappear many yards away. A flotilla of BARROW'S GOLDENEYES wove in and around boat hulls as if on inspection. Among them, young males, still brown like females, sported developing white face crescents. A few COMMON MERGANSERS, normally present in large numbers, paddled about.

 

I heard a distinctive "BEEP" and crept up on displaying COMMON GOLDENEYE drakes. How fun to watch these handsome sea ducks at work, trying to impress each other and the ladies! 

 

I know I was impressed when one after the other drake threw his head flat on his back, beak to the sky, and uttered a dry rattle. Then back up for the "Beep!" and the neck extended fully at an angle (probably felt good to balance out that neck throw). The boys followed each other around, showing off, ladies or not, then preened to perfection.

 

The mountain shadows crept over town and finally reached the harbor around 4:46 pm. As the sun slid over the side of Mount Marathon, the slope edge ignited in a dramatic farewell, loose snow billowing over the scattered, iced alders. 

 

I caught the reflection of Mt Alice, still alight across the bay, in the large windows of a tour boat office at the edge of the harbor. Summer visitors miss our mountains' blue snow shadows, low angle light, long, sometimes starry nights, and the harbor with overwintering, beeping sea ducks. What a sweet pleasure!

 

Happy Birding!

Carol Griswold

Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter