eventide

Conditions in our neighborhood are a bit icy for walking so off I went to where the path is more rugged.  More friction, less slippery.  I was rewarded first with a gorgeous sunset over Turnagain Arm and Cook Inlet plus alpenglow on the Chugach Mtns., second with a multiple moose sighting.  Two adults (one with a collar) and a calf.  No photos of the big, brown ungulates, however, as they were running from something or someone.  My instinct was to stay out of the way, not seem threatening, and eventually crouch in the frost-covered meadow grasses (a mistake as they were crunchy and drew attention to my location) and then try talking the moose into believing I was no danger to them.  Something along the lines of "okay, moose.  I'm gonna get back on the path and get the heck out of here.  None of us is happy about being this close to each other so why don't you just pretend I'm not here.  Thanks.  See ya.  You're all beautiful by the way."  And off I went, hoping it wasn't a bear that frightened them into running.  Once I reached my car, it took a few minutes for my pulse to slow.  I love moose.  I really, really do.  I never get bored with seeing them.  Never think "geez, they're such a nuisance.  I'm walking here!"  They're delightfully goofy and majestic at the same time.  And big.  Anyway, below are some lovely photos of my wander around prior to my wildlife interaction.  

hodgepodge of flora and fauna

 

pens and cobs

A particular family of Trumpeter Swans has captured our hearts and admiration throughout the summer here in Anchorage.  It has been joyful to watch the cygnets grow from small, grey, downy hatchlings to nearly adult size.  There are five of them, and I confess to counting them each time we see them to be sure they're all present.  

I've learned there are several collective noun names for a group of swans.  A regatta.  A bevy or bank.  A lamentation, a royal, a squadron, or a sounder.  A fanfare, a tranquility, a team, or a whiteness.  A school.  Or the easiest - a flock.  Animal group names are fascinating and often funny.  

I'm not the only swan enthusiast enjoying this lovely family.  Each time I visit, I get to see the happiness they bring to others as well.  They often stop people in their tracks, and those of us who've been watching for months exchange stories of our sightings and comment on the current size of the cygnets.

If past seasons are any indication, they will be here for weeks to come.  This birdwatcher will be keeping an eye out right up until they migrate south.

June

June

mid-July

mid-July

late July

late July

August 

August again - preening adult in fog and mist

grit

Sandhill Crane adult and colt, Cook Inlet and Mt. Susitna

Grit is a word that comes to mind when I think of birds.  The endurance of migration and reaching breeding grounds.  Finding a mate, building a nest, laying eggs.  Raising, feeding, and protecting a brood.  Reverse migration, returning to wintering grounds.  Repeating it year after year.  Sounds exhausting, doesn't it?  

Greater Scaup drake

Not every bird species migrates, of course.  Some stick to one region, often toughing it out part of the year in harsh weather by means of controlled hypothermia, constant foraging, being fed by humans, etc.  Migratory or resident, the life of a bird takes perseverance and effort.  

Short-billed Dowitcher

It brings me tremendous joy to watch the cycle of their lives unfold.  To see gulls show up in spring and later watch their chicks go from grey, fluffy, speckled cuteness to fully feathered versions of their parents is a delight.  Watching Red-necked Grebes carefully construct mounded nests in water, sit on their eggs, and then see the striped little faces of the grebettes on a parent's back can put a smile on my face for days!  Sandhill Cranes and their colts?  I adore everything about them and will excitedly watch them for hours.

Short-billed Gull with chick

Red-necked Grebe pair with grebettes

As July moves along, I find myself thinking that some of Alaska's summer species will soon leave for points south.  Once the Arctic Terns leave, summer begins coming to a close.  Not all migrators leave as early as terns.  In fact, many who breed further north linger well into autumn so there are many weeks left to enjoy those who pass through.  

Sandhill Cranes with colt

It's good to also appreciate our year-round avian friends, the ones who visit the spruce and birch trees behind our house and raise their fledglings in close up view.  The birds we hear and see on neighborhood walks.  These species are remarkable as well.

Trumpeter Swan with cygnets

Northern Pintail drake

it is spring, right?

 Because it looks a lot like fall.

tramping here and there

 

movement

 

Near one of the few current spots of open water in Anchorage, we spotted this short-term visitor last week.  This may have been my first ever Snow Goose sighting.  I honestly can't recall if one (or many) had ever crossed my path, so to speak, prior.  Mixed in with many geese and Mallards, this birdie couldn't care less that it was drawing attention.  It was focused solely on eating.

Not a great photo (low light, cloudy day, distance), but what a handsome drake.  He and his pretty partner were fishing and preening.  Since my Yellowstone days, Buffleheads have been one of my favorite waterfowl species. 

This beautiful lady flew in to join the Bufflehead pair, and I could have watched her for hours.  Again, not a great photo.  However, I like her visible crest and reflection in the water.  Common Mergansers are another favorite bird.  Calling them a favorite may seem like there are birds I don't like or enjoy.  Not really true.  Perhaps the only bird I recall not being entirely enamored with is the Skua.  Once you've had one dive bomb you in Antarctica, it's easy to not be a fan.  

Perhaps my admiration for some species is their connection to where I first began to truly notice and fall in love with birds - Yellowstone National Park.  Several species we see passing through in spring and fall are common in YNP.  Safe to say, there is a bit of nostalgia intertwined with my adoration.  If we had Western Meadowlarks, Yellow-headed Blackbirds, Ruddy Ducks, American White Pelicans, and Red-winged Blackbirds to boot, I'd be an even happier bird watcher in Alaska.