Wrapping Up Alaska

For several days now I've been trying to figure out how to sum up my Alaskan experience.  The truth is, I can't.  It was way more than great scenery and great birds.  It was so much more than peaceful meadows, majestic peaks, and awesome glaciers.  In sheer numbers, I could have seen more birds by staying home.  In ten days of non-stop birding I saw 86 species.  My best single day in Gainesville is higher than that.  Of course, thirty-eight life birds is truly remarkable, but that is only a few ticks on a page compared with the total experience I had. So, with words failing me, here's the best I can do:

I couldn't help feeling that I was seeing the Earth as God intended it to be.  Its pristine beauty was almost overwhelming, so much so that I often got distracted from looking at birds because the background was so spectacular.  My lasting impression of Alaska will be looking southwest from an observation area on the road to Homer.  Kachemak Bay and Homer were to my left; Cook Inlet stretched out to my right.  Ahead of me was a break in the mountains that led to the Gulf of Alaska and the North Pacific.  Somewhere out there was Kodiak Island.  That opening was flanked by the Kenai Range on the left and the Aleutian Range to my right.  It was extraordinary

I spent nearly eleven days in Alaska and never saw darkness.  I was up at 11:00 PM and at 5:00 AM, and it was not dark, not even dim. 

A Trail at Exit Glacier

The people were wonderful.  If you've been "educated" on Alaska by episodes of Alaska State Troopers, you're getting a lousy impression.  These are great people, and especially on the Kenai, they live and die with tourism.  They want you there and they treat you accordingly.  Go.  You'll love it.

Perspective can be an eye-opening thing.  Every time I spoke to a local birder, the first bird they mentioned was Yellow-rumped Warbler!  To a Floridian, that's stunning.  The first sighting of the Yellow-rumped down here is greeted with loud laments.  For us, the Butter Butt (as we call it) is a sign that the fall migration season is at an end.  We live for the migration seasons when all of those great birds that don't live in Florida pass through on the way to their winter or summer homes.  Fall migration can be wonderful inland on the Florida Peninsula as the migrating warblers funnel through the center of the state, keeping close to the food sources of the interior forests.  The Yellow-rumped is the last of the warblers to come through, so when we see it, we know migration is done.  And then they stay here - all winter long - in their drab winter dress.  And just when they start to get gorgeous, they leave and migrate north.  And large numbers of them settle in Alaska where the local birders gush about them.  Harumph!

Bringing in a Boat at Anchor Point

I was fascinated by the boat launch and landing process at Anchor Point.  The tides are enormous there - usually at least 16 feet, so a dock built for low tide would be a dozen feet below water at high tide.  Build one for high tide and it towers above the boats at low.  So guys driving huge tractors with big, wide wheels tow boat trailers out into the frigid Alaskan water, hoist up the boats, and tow them up the steep hillside to a parking lot way above the sea.  There they pick up a boat wanting to launch and tow it and its trailer down to beach and out far enough into the sea to safely launch it.  That was so much fun to watch!

Based on ten days of vigorous birding I have come to believe there are no ptarmigans.  It's a carefully devised ruse by the local Chambers of Commerce to get birders from the lower 48 to rush to Alaska in search of a phantom.  They say Willow Ptarmigan is their state bird.  Yea, right.  By the time I left the Jacksonville airport I had seen five Northern Mockingbirds, our state bird.  So where were the ptarmigans??  I tried.  I really tried.  No ptarmigans.  I'm just saying ... I'm suspicious.

An actual frontiersman's cabin.  It would fit in my living room.

I have seen the "frontier spirit" of the old west played out commercially in a way that I think demeans the true hardships and unbreakable fighting spirit that marked the lives of those who tamed our frontier.  However, Alaska is still untamed.  There is a real sense of the frontier as soon as you leave the cities and towns precisely because IT IS the frontier.  It can be a really hard life, but the people seem to thrive on it.  I admire that.

The Captain's Choice pelagic trip out of Seward ROCKS!  Captain Sherry and her first mate Allie were wonderful.  They knew where the birds were, they could ID them, and they made me feel comfortable on a very cold and rainy day.  I stayed on the stern in the rain and salt spray as long as I could.  By the time I went inside, I was shivering and my poncho was in tatters.  Almost immediately, Allie had a cup of coffee in my hands and then she found a rain jacket I could use.  I know she did as much for many other passengers, but I couldn't possibly describe how much I appreciated that personal touch.  Many thanks to Ken Tarbox who recommended the Captain's Choice Tour.  It was fantastic!

For a variety of reasons I delayed my trip until after Memorial Day.  If I ever do it again, I'll go a few weeks earlier and attend the shorebird festival that is held annually in mid-May.  They reported THOUSANDS of shorebirds per day!  I'd love to see that.

I was actually surprised at how hard it was to find birds in some places.  Massive forests did not translate into massive numbers or varieties of birds.  I worked some areas along gravel roads in gorgeous forests for hours on end, and often came away with less than a dozen species.  Of course three of them might have been lifers, so I'm not complaining. It's just an observation.  I expected to see more birds.

Along the same lines, in all of the hours I spent in the field I saw four woodpeckers, three of the same species (American Three-toed) and one other (Hairy).  What's up with that?  There are millions upon millions of trees, and few woodpeckers!  Also, I saw only two raptors that weren't eagles.  Both were Northern Goshawks.  Where were the rest?  Mystifying.

Alaskan birds do not seem to perch on power or telephone lines.  The one bird on a wire that I saw was a Rock Pigeon in Palmer.  It probably learned to do that in the lower 48.

I tried really hard, but I could not see Russia from Wasilla.

I loved Alaska.  I really, really did.  When I first arrived, most local folks I talked to said, "Welcome to the Great Land!"  Great Land indeed.  I feel so blessed to have had the chance to visit Alaska, and I will do everything I can, support every cause or measure I hear of that works to keep Alaskan forests and mountains clean and unspoiled.

And with that, listed below are the 38 lifers I picked up during the trip. 

Cackling Goose

Black-legged Kittiwakes

Trumpeter Swan

Harlequin Duck

Barrow's Goldeneye

Spruce Grouse

Red-faced Cormorant

Northern Goshawk

Golden Eagle

Black Oystercatcher

Wandering Tattler

Black-legged Kittiwake

Mew Gull

Glaucous-winged Gull

Aleutian Tern

Common Murre

Thick-billed Murre

Pigeon Guillemot

Marbled Murrelet

Kittlitz's Murrelet

Rhinoceros Auklet

Harlequin Duck

Horned Puffin

Tufted Puffin

Boreal Owl

American Three-toed Woodpecker

Olive-sided Flycatcher

Gray Jay

Steller's Jay

Black-billed Magpie

Northwestern Crow

Violet-green Swallow

Boreal Chickadee

American Dipper

Varied Thrush

Townsend's Warbler

Golden-crowned Sparrow

Pine Grosbeak

Red Crossbill

Common Redpoll

In addition to the birds, there were also these delights:

River Otter

Mountain Goats

Moose

Lynx

Dall Sheep

Black Bear

Harbor Seal

Steller's Sea Lion

Sea Otter

Dall Porpoise

Humpback Whale

Mountain Goat

Snowshoe Hare

Porcupine

Red Squirrel


So, now it's on to the June Challenge and some hometown birding.