Alaska Birds Day Five--Kachemak Bay and Gull Island

 Alaska 2014 continued:

Out on the open waters of Kachemak Bay, with the sun shining and a light breeze blowing, I felt like I could finally breathe. The drive down to Homer had been spectacular, surrounded by snow-capped mountains and volcanoes, and the blue waters of Cook Inlet. The views from Kachemak Bay were just as amazing.

We boarded Captain Karls' boat shortly after 11:00 am. I loved the sign which hung at front of the cabin. I had no doubt that I would find them all to be good birds.

As we were leaving the shelter of the marina we passed a dozen or so immature Double-crested Cormorants sunning themselves near the breakwater. They're all good birds.

Immature Double-crested Cormorants.

The waters out on the bay were fairly calm still, and soon we spotted our first firsts--a pair of Marbled Murrelets. These chubby-looking birds are listed as threatened, so I was very excited to get a look at them. They nest in trees, of all things, and, according to Wikipedia, this fact was not discovered until 1974. These two did not stick around long.

Marbled Murrelets.

We saw so many birds in the three hours we were out on the bay that I am skipping around a bit. I was godsmacked the entire time. Such a beautiful place! So many birds, most of which were new to me. I would be shooting off one side of the boat when someone would call out something on the other side of the boat. We did eventually reach Gull Island, which serves as a major nesting site for Black-legged Kittiwakes.

Gull Island and Black-legged Kittiwakes.

From the Alaska Department of Fish and Game: "As many as 20,000 seabirds build nests in the craggy rock faces and cliffs of Gull Island, on the south side of Kachemak Bay about three miles from the Homer Spit. Most years, 8,000 to 10,000 black-legged kittiwakes dominate the rookery, building mud nests perched in clefts and on ledges. 5,000 to 8,000 common murres nest amid the kittiwakes. Other birds seen in smaller numbers include glaucous-winged gulls, pelagic cormorants, red-faced cormorants, puffins and pigeon guillemots. The effect stuns the senses—the air is saturated with the odor of fishy guano and vibrates with the cacophony of crying birds. The sky can fill when a thousand birds take wing at once."

Gull Island

It really was quite a spectacle. There were birds everywhere, perched and nested on every flat surface. The older, more aggressive birds got the higher spots--younger birds were forced to nest closer to the waterline, making them more vulnerable to heavy seas. Guano dripped down the rocks like Spanish moss.

Nesting Black-legged Kittiwakes.

Many of the birds were busy picking up nesting material, mostly kelp that floated on the surface of the bay. I found these birds to be particularly striking. Their heads seemed sleeker than their other gull cousins, and that splash of red at the base of their bright yellow bills, called the gape, and around their dark eyes was stunning.

Black-legged Kittiwakes collecting nesting material.

The density of birds was staggering. In this image alone I counted 12 nests.

Nesting Black-legged Kittiwakes.

On our second time around the island many of the birds suddenly took to the air. We soon discovered why--an immature Bald Eagle soared up from the opposite side of the island.

A young Bald Eagle swoops over Gull Island.

The eagle left empty-taloned.

Birds were zipping and soaring and splashing all around us. A Pelagic Cormorant flew by, and I managed a few quick shots.

Pelagic Cormorant.

Directly south of Gull Island is China Poot Bay, an area surrounded by glacial outwash. There were several rafts of birds there, so we slowly motored over. A flock of about 30 Surf Scoters watched us carefully, then took to the air.

Surf Scoters.

I could see some Barrow's Goldeneye mixed in with the others but I couldn't get any shots of them, until this pair graciously flew right past the boat.

Barrow's Goldeneye fly past the boat.

I could go on and on, but I'll stop here and save some for next time.

Next:  Kachemak Bay birds continued.

Of Turkeys and Eagles

SLBD continued:

After a walk to the beach and a shower I drove back to my campsite. Boy was I ready for dinner and a book! But as I pulled into the campground I saw three wild turkey hens, who were hanging out near the campground host's site. I was excited and yet not--I really was tired, but I knew I could not ignore these beautiful birds, so near at hand. I parked the van and went back to an empty site with my camera to get some photos.

Wild turkey hen in the Platte River campground.

They moved steadily through the campground, poking around in the duff looking for yummy bits to eat.

They came within six or seven feet of me. Obviously they were quite used to people.

Such gaudy plumage! I think they look like a five year-old put them together.

Such sweet faces and expressive eyes--they look vulnerable with their bare heads. How do they handle winter?

I eventually went back to camp and made dinner. While I ate they walked right through my site and past my table. What a gift!

The next morning, Friday, I left Sleeping Bear Dunes. My plan was to drive to Grayling, in the middle of the state, and drop off some artwork at a gallery that is carrying our work, then drive up to Hartwick Pines State Park, a few minutes north of town. I was going to hike along the Au Sable River and stay Friday night at the park, then go home Saturday. But once I was on the road I felt more like heading home instead of camping another night. I decided to just go to Grayling and then go home.

The GPS took me to Grayling by way of Traverse City on M-72, which skirts the southern shores of the west and east arms of Grand Traverse Bay. I wasn't real excited to be in Traverse City during morning rush hour. But as M-72 rounded the east bay and began to head north I happened to look out at the water. There, standing on a sand bar, where two bald eagles. I whipped off the road into the parking lot of a defunct hotel, grabbed my gear and sprinted across the road. I noticed a few other folks with cameras down the shore.

A pair of bald eagles in the east arm of Grand Traverse Bay.

The morning light was soft on them but they were a ways away--these images are all cropped quite a bit. It was not warm--low 40's at best--and a stiff breeze was blowing from the south. I hadn't bothered to throw a coat on and it wasn't long before I was shivering.

The eagle on the left is munching on a tasty morsel.  Mmmmmm....

While the eagles were pretty they weren't doing much and I soon got distracted. One eagle flew off while I was watching some ducks out on the bay. Then I got distracted my a killdeer who landed in front of me in the muddy muck near shore.

Killdeer on Grand Traverse Bay

I looked up in time to see the second eagle take to the air.  Such majesty--and to think we very nearly wiped them out. Turkeys too were hunted to dangerously low numbers. Their comeback is a testament to what good, sound regulations can do.

Ben Franklin had wanted the wild turkey to be our national symbol, but we ended up with the eagle instead. I think either would have been a great choice.

And thus ends the Sleeping Bear Dunes posts--finally!

Dawn on Lake Huron

We have made it an annual thing now, to spend a weekend somewhere in Michigan in the winter, just for fun. The original plan was to go up to Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore on Lake Michigan, but after getting a newsletter from Michigan Audubon that six Snowy Owls had been spotted at Tawas Point State Park on Lake Huron, we decided to head there instead.  Tawas is where the birding festival I attended last year was held, where I added 12? birds to my "life list".  We found a three bedroom house for rent right on the water for a great price (winter rates), called up our friend Karin from Traverse City, and we all met there Friday night.

By the time we got settled it was dark so we had to wait till morning to really see the place.  Dawn brought a glorious sunrise, spreading across a frigid Lake Huron (the air temperature was seven degrees).

I grew up on a lake (not as big as this one!) and I miss it horribly.  I could spend hours on the shore, just watching and listening to the nuances of the water.  The cold had brought ice to the surface of the great lake, and it crinkled across the small swells.

Each moment is different, every place you look a new texture, color.

The horizon is ill-defined, seemingly infinite. Waves and swells break the line between water and sky.

Winds from the west spread out across the surface, winding between the ice sheets.

Just as I was finishing up Lori spotted a dark shape moving down the coast.  "Eagle!" she cried.  Sure enough, gliding south down the shore was this magnificent Bald Eagle.  No time for adjusting the exposure, I got a couple shots before the bird moved out of sight.

It was going to be a good day!

Next:  Tawas Point

Birds of Blue Spring

I awoke this morning to a steady snow falling, and we now have about two inches on the ground. I don't really mind, I think it's beautiful and know that it will be gone in a day, but it does make posting about our Florida trip that much more pleasant.

We saw lots of birds at Blue Spring State Park. The problem, as usual, is that they generally saw us first and so took to the air before we could get a good look. But we did have some special moments, like the Purple gallinule from the last post, and this one, a bald eagle atop a ratty looking pine directly across from the boat launch.



About fifteen minutes into the paddle we heard a Pileated woodpecker hammering in the woods to our right. We sat still until she showed herself.


Lisa pointed out several heron nests in a small rookery near the bank of the river. These large, lanky birds seem so out of place high up in a tree.


This heron plied the shallows, looking for lunch.


Once down the Smith canal the birding became a bit more difficult. The narrow, overgrown canal provided great camouflage for the birds. But while Lisa and Lori struggled somewhere behind me to find a place for a potty break, I watched this Eastern wood pewee until it came out and perched in the sun.


And this Anhinga waited just long enough for me to get a few shots before flying away in protest. I had no idea their tails were so long.


We heard many noises in the woods along the canal, and we hoped for a bear or a bobcat. What we got, eventually, was this turkey, a big tom who was working his way along the high bank of the canal.


Once back out on the river, we didn't see a whole lot. Boat traffic had picked up and it was early afternoon. But I did see this Black vulture preening in a tree near the river. I had never gotten such a good look at one before--we only have Turkey vultures at home. I think this bird is quite handsome.


As we neared the boat launch I was struck by this vulture, preening on the branch of a long dead tree with the moon coming up behind it. All I needed was a little mist instead of that bright blue sky, and it would be the perfect vulture picture!

Soggy Morning

The rain started late Tuesday afternoon so we sat under the RV awning and talked until after dark--no camp fire for us! Just at dusk the whip-poor-wills began to sing, and Lori was thrilled. She said she hadn't heard one in nearly 30 years. The rest of us had never heard one. Our excitement was short lived, however, as the birds sang and sang into the darkness, then started up again at 4:30 in the morning. We started to wonder what whip-poor-will soup tasted like....

When dawn finally arrived Wednesday it was dark and wet, with a fine mist falling. It took us a while to get up and around--you kind of have to force yourself to go out in weather like that, but since it was our only full day at the park we dragged ourselves up and out. Since neither hiking nor kayaking sounded particularly appealing in that weather, we opted to drive the dirt road up to the observation tower. At least we could see stuff and stay relatively dry.

The view from the observation platform offered looks at Lodge Lake (foreground) and Devoe Lake (far in the background) to the west...



and Grebe Lake to the east. As you can see it was quite dark and damp, even at 9 am.



When we got out of the car at the observation deck we saw a critter swimming around that we thought at first was a beaver, and we were all excited. Once we climbed the tower we saw that it was a muskrat. Why a muskrat is any less appealing than a beaver is a mystery to me, but I must say we were all a bit disappointed.



Across Grebe Lake, in a tall, lone white pine, is an eagle nest. This one looks a bit dilapidated. Eagle nests are huge structures, usually weighing 500 pounds or more. Eagles will use their nests year after year, adding more nesting material every year. A park employee told us that one nest weighed in at 2 tons. It's astonishing that the tree can hold that much weight.

We never did see the adults but we could clearly see two large nestlings moving about the nest.



The area was replete with birds, including several warbler species, orioles, robins and doves. This great crested flycatcher perched on the top of a tree and posed.



As dark as it was it was difficult to get images of anything under the tree canopy. Here a blurry yellow-belied sapsucker works its way up a tree branch.



As usual, we heard the pileated long before we saw her. I think there was a pair working their way through the trees, but I only saw the female.



Lori's sharp eyes spotted these pine saps in the woods along the road. Like its relative the Indian pipe, which also grows in this park, pine sap does not produce chlorophyll. They get their nutrients from organic matter in the soil. I had to battle the mosquitoes to get shots of these!



The saturated air had left everything covered with shimmering droplets. Rain won't do this--the drops hit and splash and run. But the fine mist that was falling that morning turned the world into a diamond mine--without the environmental destruction.

Wild rose--not sure which variety. All I know is that it is not the invasive multi-flora, and that makes me happy.



Blue flag iris.


Ox-eye daisy. While not a native, they are not terribly invasive, and have become one of those flowers that I cannot imagine a summer roadside or meadow without.



Columbine. The cultivated varieties are nice, but I still prefer the more subtle wild variety.



By the time we finished the drive the drizzle had stopped and the weather was starting to brighten up. We decided to walk the mile long nature trail loop that works its way around a fen. But before I take you there I have one more treat for you from the drive that morning.