Tuesday, January 24, 2023 Kittlitz’s Murrelet!

Seward, Alaska

Sunrise (is there a sun?) 9:31 am, sunset 4:50 pm for a total daylength of 7 hours and 19 minutes. Tomorrow will be 4 minutes and 36 seconds longer. Cloudy with occasional light sprinkles, temps in the mid 30s, and mostly calm. Freezing rain turned everything not covered with crusty snow into a hazardous skating rink; ice creepers are limb-savers. 

Yesterday, around 4:30 pm in the increasingly dim light, visiting birder Ben Lagasse reported a KITTLITZ’S MURRELET feeding offshore from the inactive fish processing plant near the Lowell Creek outfall.

On this monochrome day, even at noon, the gray sky merged seamlessly into the pewter bay, and light rain spattered on optics. As the news spread, local birders Robin C, Sam D, and Jenna S apparated to join my search at the outfall, armed with scopes. 

About 50 black PELAGIC CORMORANTS gathered in front, diving for bait fish; one long, slender fish looked like a sand lance. A drake LONG-TAILED DUCK, WHITE-WINGED SCOTERS, SURF SCOTERS, BARROW’S GOLDENEYES, COMMON MERGANSERS, RED-BREASTED MERGANSERS, a RED-NECKED GREBE, a few SHORT-BILLED GULLS and GLAUCOUS-WINGED GULLS also paddled and dove nearby. One female White-winged Scoter popped up with a clam, struggling with it before finally choking it down. All great birds and wonderful sightings, except we wanted the unusual alcid.

Sprinkled farther out, dozens of tiny black and white MARBLED MURRELETS called to each other, their voices carrying far across the water. But no Kittlitz’s. Sam spotted more alcids by the Alaska Sealife Center to the north, so we converged in the parking lot. Nope, just MAMUs. It was remarkable to see and hear so many Marbled Murrelets. Finally, I split off, heading for home. Of course, almost immediately, Sam found the Kittlitz’s by the Founder’s Monument and I raced back.

There, far off, a speck in the gray ocean, was the Bird. The difference was immediately obvious, so much white: on the face, leaving the dark eye like an island, white throat, and undersides. A nearly complete dark broad neck band/collar swept down like a scarf on either side but did not close over the white throat. Even the bill looked smaller when scrutinized through the scope; the species name “brevirostris” means “short-billed”. Non-breeding plumage is much easier than breeding plumage!

It’s a mystery why this Kittlitz’s was so far up in the bay, a bird closely associated with glacial talus slopes in breeding season and rarely seen far from remote tidewater glaciers in Kenai Fjords National Park. Hopefully, it will continue to find forage fish just offshore so other birders can enjoy this rare sighting from Seward’s shore.

Now to find that Red-faced Cormorant Ben reported...

Update: Sam reported this this is only the fourth record on eBird in January anywhere and the first for the Kenai Peninsula. San rebound the KIMU on January 28.

Happy Birding!
Carol Griswold
Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter







 

 

Monday, January 23, 2023 Marine Amphipods

 

Seward, Alaska

Another gray, cloudy faux-winter day with light rain, temps in the 30s. 

Last month, on December 23, the highest tide of the year reached 13.6’, a respectable height for Seward. This week, the daylight tides steadily climbed from a 12-footer on Thursday morning to 13.4’ on Sunday afternoon, shrinking area beaches to little or nothing and limiting access.

At 2 pm today, high tide 13.0’, Fourth of July beach seethed and surged with incoming fingers of curling waves. They hissed through the bedraggled beach rye grass and licked the remaining crusty snow before sliding back, leaving a curtain of lacy foam.

Just ahead of me, I noticed little dark stones, flung by the waves onto the snow and sand. Many of them. I looked closer and discovered to my amazement that they were marine amphipods, larger than the usual “beach shrimp” at up to an inch long. 

Most were dark, but a few were tan. After recovering from the shock of being torn from under their nearby intertidal rock homes, they crawled along the unfamiliar snowy landscape in an alien world, seeking shelter from the chilly weather and exposure.

Some, more adventurous (or anxious), curled their abdominal plates underneath and quickly snapped them straight, launching them forward up to 8” or even a foot. It was quite impressive!

I found an abandoned clam shell and scooped up a dozen at a time; they immediately curled into a protective ball that reminded me of fern fiddleheads. As the waves receded, I dashed down, lifted a rock, dumped out the precious cargo and carefully replaced the roof, hoping they might burrow to safety before the next sucking surge. It was hopeless to save them all; dozens more crawled and hopped all around me.

I was surprised that the normally watchful gulls and ravens or other birds had not noticed this surprising feast delivered by the waves. Such tasty protein, substantial servings, and plentiful.

When returned the next day, all was quiet, the secretive intertidal life once again invisible to this human’s eye. I appreciate what that powerful high tide revealed to me; so interesting!

Update: According to "Common Sea Life of Southeastern Alaska, a Field Guide by Aaron Baldwin and Paul Norwood," the beach hoppers I found could be the Common Beach Hopper, aka Splash Zone Beach Hopper (well named) possibly Traskorchestia traskiana. Although described at 2 mm, the Oregon Institute of Marine Biology says 20 mm is possible, about the size I estimated. 

However, as there are over 700 representatives in Alaska alone, are extremely difficult to identify in the field and often require dissection, I won't know for sure. Still, it's fun to learn about them. Who knew that amphipod females have a little pouch called a marsupium to brood the eggs and shelter the juveniles. Amazing world!

The field guide could be a menu for birds dining at the beach.

https://www.naturebob.com/sites/default/files/Aaron%20Baldwin%20Sealife%20of%20SE%20Alaska%2008-15-15.pdf





Happy Birding!
Carol Griswold
Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter