Karen's Aura

Karen connects with critters.  Encountering virtually any pooch during her frequent walks, it will "melt" in her presence.  She constantly hears "Grizz," or whatever the usually wary or shy dog's name is, "never does that for anyone.  Never!"  Karen's an "animal whisperer" and their 6th sense "reads" it.  That's why she gets such natural photos of everything from bears to slugs to, well, greater yellowlegs.

And so, during a recent outing, Karen heard a racket.  The source: a raucous handful of crows, the creaky door-hinge screech of a bald eagle and frantic alarm cries from two greater yellowlegs, a shorebird that nests in our local muskegs.  Aha, thought Karen, a photo op.  

Slogging towards the sound through the muskeg she discovered the three vocal species in trees bordering a small pond while three naive fledgling yellowlegs set about their daily chores among the sedges surrounding the pond.  This scenario's natural progression might have been the eagle would swoop down to kidnap one of the young yellowlegs.  With dinner secure in the eagle's talons, the crows would charge forth in a well orchestrated attempt to appropriate the raptor's feast for their own dining pleasure while the adult yellowlegs vocalized extreme displeasure as they pursued in a futile rescue mission. 

But a guardian angel arrived to change the narrative.  And that angel, Karen, had neared the yellowlegs family.  In such situations frantic yellowlegs, being vigorous defenders of their nests and fledglings, dive bomb to within inches of we humans with incessant no trespassing warnings that make us duck or perhaps consider donning a World War I helmet for safety.  Always.

Instead, these adult yellowlegs quieted down, surveying the action from trees as the crows and eagles lingered in "theirs."  Somehow those extremely protective shore birds sensed Karen was an ally.  I can be the distance of three end to end football fields (with the end zones tacked on) from a yellowlegs nest or chick and I'm going to be under siege.

Karen stealthily inched forward to where she could clearly see the entire family.  Reaching perhaps the length of a bowling alley from the birds, she sank down into the muskeg with sundew practically towering above her, and paused.  Wait a minute!  There are no bowling alleys in muskegs or football fields nor can Karen hide behind a sundew plant.  Sorry about that!

There she waited next to the yellowlegs brood while no warning calls, no threatening dive bombing -- just silence prevailed.  Soon one of the birds waded towards Karen and the frustrated predators exited stage left while Karen, now adopted by the family, seemed no more threatening than a blueberry. 

Karen writes, "It was an experience I will never forget, watching the interactions of three fledglings splash with great abandon, water droplets flying everywhere.  They dunked their whole body under and bobbed to the surface, only to repeat, shimmering in the golden sunlight, paddling close to one another while the third bird preened and closed it's eyes." 

Yes Karen's "aura" once again reigned and something that "never happens," happened -- or doesn't it?  Today she reflects on the time when a mother hoary marmot on a wild ridge in the Yukon left Karen to babysit her playful pups while mama scampered off to another ridge to gather "hay."   But, that's another story.

The pond

A watchful parent

There's no way Karen can hide behind this long leaf sundew!

Is this what pecking order means?

That lady looks pretty funny from this point of view

A bird needs to be careful when stretching because...

A lesson in health care:  Remember that blade of sedge from the last photo?

Wait a minute!  How can a bird have such long legs?

Better look again.

Bath time.  Karen wanted to join in.

Is this nap time or are "we" preening?

Or could this be nap time with the ultimate feather pillow?

What! Is this fledgling scratching with its wing?

And so we'll end with this image of two innocents that 

never knew how their Guardian Angel saved them.

Life on the Docks

Winter in coastal Alaska has a bonus not enjoyed by someone living in — say — Delmar, New York (where I finished high school) or Brookfield, Wisconsin (where Karen grew up).  Like grizzled retirees from those same towns chasing the winter sun, waterfowl and shorebirds, fleeing iced-over ponds and marshes in interior portions of the continent, sashay down to our coast.  Here they happily spend the darkest months indulging in fresh seafood delicacies that dwell in our marine waters.  They join larger members of the animal kingdom whose “wings” just aren’t powerful enough to enable them to fly — except through the water.

                            A pair of Common Loons newly arrived after interior lakes began to freeze over

Barely more agile on land than a bowling ball and even less so in the air, this Harbor Seals epitomizes grace when it "flies" through the water.

This is particularly true at the northern end of Wrangell Narrows, the site of the city of Petersburg, where harbor seals and Steller’s sea lions are joined by thousands of gulls, ducks and shorebirds.  Here upwelling seawater nourishes an ecosystem filled with enough species of marine worms (yum) and fish to keep “everyone” happy with the added bonus of tasty ground-up seafood processing waste from our local canneries.  

A Common Loon wrecks the day of a fish -- but can it swallow that big of a victim without a set of wolf-like choppers?

                                                                     No Problem!  Well, maybe just a little.

For the record, one local cannery’s permit required wastes to be discharged in waters somewhere around 30 or 40 feet below sea level.  Wellllllll…..I once joined inspectors diving on that outfall.  While we navigated to the site, the diver made his final preparations.  Oxygen tanks filled— check.  Dry suit on— check.  Regulator functioning — check.  Tank valve open — check.  A couple of test breaths — check.  Weights on — Check.  Get ready, we’re closing in.  STOP!  REVERSE ENGINE!  WATCH OUT!  DON'T HIT THE PIPE!  If he had jumped over the side of the boat at a deep spot he might have gotten his knees wet.

I never saw the final inspection report.  However, I couldn’t help but notice that currents are so fast at the site that the discharge is well diluted.  Instead of looking like a biological wasteland around the outfall — as sterile as Mars but less colorful — the area looked more like a Hawaiian coral reef.  It’s a great place to cast a fishing lure during higher tide levels.

This week Karen took her new Canon Powershot SX50 camera out on the docks to give it another test run.  The first day, as she slowly crept up on several sleeping seal lions, she paused.  “Why do I have this uneasy feeling?”  The dock began rocking and bobbing accompanied by the increasing volume of a gurgling sound.  Suddenly a geyser of water reminiscent of Yellowstone’s Old Faithful erupted as it gushed out of a standing pipe -- the one under which she was hiding.  Karen had been creeping from pipe to pipe using them as photographic blinds — if one can use a standing pipe as camouflage.  Only Karen would take a shower on the docks — without a towel.  Most others seek out more private facilities.

Nevertheless, brave Karen returned the next day, this time using her navigational skills to avoid that “trap.”  She went to a different dock.

                                                 Steller's Sea Lions know the meaning of comfort.

                                           So who's keeping track of whose flippers belong to who?

            Black Turnstones and Surfbirds seem to sense that Karen is a softy when it comes to predatory instincts.

Petersburg's upside down Harbor Seal cruises through the harbors in it's own style.  Don't knock it until you've tried it.

                                                                           It's downright addictive.

A short-billed Dowitcher proved a challenge in deciding if it was the short-billed species or the long-billed version.  Here's hoping we got it right.  The surfbird was an easy call.

This Bonapartes Gull is unlikely to stick around all winter, but will be another harbinger of spring in five or six months.  Just the thought of that makes us think it's on to something.

                                             You know, there's more than one way to fly.  I wonder......

Karen's New Camera

Karen needed a new camera.  Her Canon Powershot SX20 developed an issue after somewhere around 230,982 shots (give or take one or two).  Turn it on and it would whirr, rasp, grate, and screech as the lens extended.  Same when she zoomed in for one of her fabulous telephoto shots.  Stellers jays scolded in protest as they tried to cover their ears with their wings.  Squirrels fled to their tree-top refuges and threatened to throw spruce cones at her.  Porcupines, too.  She shot the baptism of friends children and the Pastor had to stop mid-sentence while he waited for Karen’s camera each time she zoomed in or out..  The final blow came in August.  Karen’s birthday!  I wanted to give her something special, something more romantic than a bag of lime flavored Tortilla chips.  Ah, a new camera!

Using my well-honed skill in pulling off surprises, I asked Karen what kind of camera she might like, subtly suggesting an upgrade of her Canon Powershot SX20 might be worth considering since she had already mastered the skill of turning it on.

                                                       Karen tests her new camera on muskeg vegetation.

Enter the research phase of our pre-August 19th activities.  Karen spent hours pouring over videos, reviews, analyses and camera comparisons between various models, certainly enough to earn a Masters degree, if not a PhD on the subject.  The latest version, the SX60 sounded like it would better serve as a sinker to keep your bait near a halibut.  The SX50 sounded great for shooting videos while running from a grizzly bear while shooting videos over your shoulder, but not so much so if you didn’t want to change batteries twice during the chase.  Ah, but the SX40.  Yes, the SX40.

With a decision “in hand,” off I went shopping on the internet.  Alas, I soon found that any reputable camera dealer carried the SX50 and SX60, but the SX40 — that model achieved fame back in the days before fire was invented.  Naturally!  OK, Karen, “what is the name of the outfit where you cornered the market on Charles Wysocki puzzles?”

“Oh yeah, eBay.”  And there it was.  The perfect camera, one of what were probably the only three brand new Canon Powershot SX40’s left north of Antarctica.

Now, about that time Karen began preparations for a trip to Iowa to visit her cousin, with the scheme that the two of them would drive up to Wisconsin as soon as Karen recovered from a plane trip that included a flight from Seattle to Denver via Los Angeles — only 800 extra air miles to enjoy staring at the back of the seat in front of her from a distance of approximately 3 inches — close enough to smell the perfume on the lady in the next seat forward — or was it the one in the seat in front of her?

Whichever, I checked on when the order could arrive.   Yes, the expected date of delivery was the day Karen would arrive in Iowa.  Perfect!  I placed the order as Karen and I celebrated.   We talked of the joy she would have getting acquainted with her birthday gift as she lazed on the dock at Wisconsin’s Four-Mile Lake.

As Karen headed south I began tracking the camera order.  Oh oh, all it said was the USPS had received notice there was something for them.  Days passed.  No change.  Finally, the words flashed on our computer screen.  The USPS received Karen’s camera in Brooklyn, NY, the day she and cousin Connie were driving to Wisconsin.  OK, at least Karen was coming back to Petersburg via Iowa so could pick it up on her way back.  She still could use her whirring. rasping, grating and screeching SX20 to terrorize Wisconsin’s chipmunks and jays.

Alas, Karen really did get a surprise for her birthday.  Upon returning to Iowa, she opened the box containing her dreamed of Canon Powershot SX40, and there, nestled in the packing material and grinning back at her was — a Canon Powershot SX50 — the model she had rejected because she didn’t want to be able to take videos over her shoulder of a bear chasing her and have to change batteries twice during the chase.  She knows perfectly well that you don’t run from a grizzly, you leave your husband behind to deal with it.

After much pondering and ruing and everything pensive, Karen brought the camera home.  After another week of pondering and ruing and everything pensive we decided to keep it.  If Karen didn’t like it, then I would use it and we would replace it with a Lumix or Nikon or Olympus or anything besides a Canon Powershot.

Which brings me to this blog post.  This week Karen began playing with her new treasure — her first forays with her brand new Canon Powershot SX 50.  

The test -- Does Karen's adopted red squirrel prefer the SX50, the SX20 or does it matter as long as free peanuts are included?

                                    This saucy Steller's jay agrees with the squirrel.  Peanuts trump noisy cameras.

Another test -- a hike around Man-Made-Hole, a gravel extraction site the USFS connected with an adjacent stream to form a pond complete with an inviting trail around it.

                                                                                An alder leaf over the trail.

                                                                                  And one on the pond.

                                                   A Sitka Blacktailed Deer likes the quieter camera, too.

                              Meanwhile several coho salmon in "fall" spawning colors have something else on their minds.

                                                               Crab apple leaves on the bank above the salmon.

 Bunchberry, also known as Canadian dwarf dogwood leaves lend a splash of color to a muskeg during another test.

                                                                             As do these bog cranberries.

Somehow Karen got so absorbed in shooting close-ups, she forgot about testing the camera on distance shots.  Next time.  Meanwhile, her ever skillful husband managed to reformat the camera to a square format.  Now I have to figure out how to get it back to our preferred rectangular shape.  The testing continues.

One Way to Get a Fish Dinner

He was standing by the road in downtown Petersburg, his thumb out, fishing pole in hand.    We knew him, had even given him a ride before, so pulled over. 

“Where you headed, Lorry?”

“Ohmer Creek,”. he responded in his characteristic gravelly voice — a voice often heard on KFSK, Petersburg’s public radio station where Lorry volunteers to host an eclectic mix of shows from classical music to rock.

“You’re in Luck, That’s where we’re headed.”

Only Karen and I were headed off for a hike on one of our favorite trails while Lorry was headed for one of his favorite fishing holes.  With a short detour we delivered him unscathed to his destination with a promise to check to see if he wanted a ride home when we headed back to town.

                       A handicap-accessible portion of the OhmerCreek Trail parallels our favorite beaver pond.

                   Nearby looking towards the pond.  Come to think of it, perhaps I should include a shot of the pond.

There:  This is a blog readers challenge.  Use the reflection of a leaning spruce tree in the beaver pond along with the image of the shoreline and that of seeds of something washed against the foot bridge to create your own image of the pond.

Oh yes, the foot bridge.  We intercepted the migration of a porcupine crossing the bridge.  After several unsuccessful attempted detours he or she retreated.  Good thing, too.  It was much safer where it came from.

For us the day proved to be the kind that makes us love the mystery of this coastal rainforest with the added bonus of autumn colors — at least a few in places where they decided it was time to shed their summer green mantle.  We lingered long and often.

                 By lingering (waiting for me) Karen discovered this Sitka Spruce limb cut down or off by a beaver

                        And these low-bush cranberries which had a short survival span after she spotted them.

This is about a colorful as alders get in fall.  Although they are related to birch trees, one thing they do not share is the wonderful yellow color as summer transitions into winter.  However, their bright spring ""plumage," not dissimilar form these fall colors, somewhat makes up for it after a drab winter.

                Karen "waltzes" through the muskeg adjacent to the trail being careful not to step on any cranberries.

At last we completed the two mile circuit the trail offered over a variety of surfaces — older gravels melded into the forest floor, across a weathering bridge we dread seeing the day it has to be replaced, down slippery single plank boards, over an area of little more than mud holes between exposed roots and finally a brand new elevated gravel pad that removed us psychologically from the forest until the route ended on on a gravel road for the last half mile or so — the last segment  decorated with seemingly lost wooly bear caterpillars, the larval stage of tiger moths.

Woolly Bear Caterpillar on an alder leaf.  Now I've been seeing these caterpillars in the fall for a number of years, and rescuing them as they crossed the road for the same number of years -- tossing them into the grass, but it finally took Karen's keen observational skills on this hike to figure out where they really belonged.  Yep -- they like munching on alder leaves. 

As promised we returned to Lorry’s fishing hole to see if he was ready to “hitchhike” with us home.

“Naw, I think I stay a while longer.  Oh, would you like a coho,” he said pointing to a large, bright salmon laying nearby.  We drooled.

“Are you sure you don’t need it?” I replied, but Lorry was sure and in the end he added a nice cutthroat trout to the ante.

                                                              Lorry and his gift.  He even cleaned it for us.

And all we wanted to do was give a kind gentle man a lift.