Seward, Alaska
Sunrise 8:00 am, sunset 8:12 pm for a total day length of 12 hours with a 11-minute bonus. Tomorrow will be 5 minutes and 30 seconds longer as we surge towards Summer Solstice. Spring Equinox today at 1:20 pm!
March came in like a lion and kept right on roaring, dumping snow until our arms were ready to fall off shoveling it off roofs, driveways, and paths. Responding to a berserk thermostat, the temperature plunged, rose into the mid 30s creating slush and deep puddles, and wobbled up and down, spewing snow, graupel, sleet, and rain with occasional bursts of warm sunshine.
I seized a brief respite at the tidelands as the morning haze retreated to the surrounding glowering gray clouds. A pair of white TRUMPETER SWANS paddled down an intertidal creek to the bay. Two black RAVENS relentlessly chased a third, no escape, back and forth across the sky, the only other motion in the otherwise quiet, monochrome landscape.
The snow-laden clouds couldn’t wait any longer and resumed their work as I turned to walk back. Suddenly, “criiickk, criickkk, chew, chew!” Two SNOW BUNTINGS landed at the tide’s edge with the snowflakes. Then more, and more and more. I guesstimated about 50, the continuing flock, though it was hard to discern the small black, white, and tan birds in the snow and beach sand.
They poked and probed right along the edge, reminding me of shorebirds. I finally got a photo of one with a marine worm wrapped around its bill. None of the beach rye stalks have seeds anymore, so they switched to marine life from the bountiful sea.
I enjoyed watching them feed in this new-to-me habitat, then rambled off. Ahead, a flock of MALLARDS napped as the tide gently lapped ever higher up their orange legs. They slowly pushed off and floated away.
Back at the Harbor Uplands, a single GREAT BLUE HERON stood momentarily on the obsolete Big Dipper coal loader then awkwardly launched into flight, long neck and legs outstretched on the descent.
At home, despite the snow and squalls, I heard a DARK-EYED JUNCO trilling its spring song. The sun is ever higher, and hope is in the air.
Seward Sporadic Bird Report Reporter
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