It had been three long years since I’d gotten a moose, and the freezer was clatteringly empty. We hadn’t done so well with fishing this year, either, so it seemed like a good time to shake things up. As I hopped in the truck to go, I didn’t realize that someone I didn’t know was just down the road brandishing a gun and threatening to shoot police officers. This guy’s escapades caused one of the oddest beginnings to a hunting trip I’ve ever had.
Author Archives: kwinker
Heat Transfusion
A few weeks ago, our good friend Andy Johnson emailed to ask whether we’d like to get a bunch of fresh New Mexico chiles. It sounded great, so last week when we met at the American Ornithologists’ Union meeting in Estes Park, Colorado, we transferred 40 lbs. in a large gunny sack from the trunk of Andy’s car onto my shoulder, and I marched off happily in the dark to put them in my room. All during the meeting my room smelled fantastic. I rotated them every day to keep them as fresh as I could, then packed them into a recycled box I found behind the dining hall and checked them as baggage for my return flight from Denver.
What’s shakin’?
Us. I was outside putting vegetables on the grill when two Gray Jays began talking back and forth. That doesn’t happen very often in our neighborhood, so I talked back at them and enjoyed the conversation, even though I had no idea what we were talking about. I stepped back into the house to get the fish, when Rose said “Whoa!” and then I felt it — earthquake! And a good one, too.
There was a particularly vigorous shake well into it, so I suggested we step outside. We did. The two jays were still conversing, and a red squirrel was chattering noisily as well. Eventually, it all died down and Rose and I went back inside. Rose wondered if it had reached a magnitude of 6; I thought somewhere above 5. Sure enough, the Alaska Earthquake Information Center (AIEC) registered an earthquake of magnitude 5.38 at 19:06. We had a delicious dinner amid aftershocks.
While my first inspection showed everything to be alright (I particularly looked for books leaping off of shelves, which happened years ago during a big one), upon closer examination I did see a few books on the floor and some pictures hanging askew. And the AIEC has revised it down to 5.07. I am reminded of a very funny image from the 2011 earthquake in Virginia:
Rose and I both wondered about the jays as we stood on the deck while the rest of the earthquake quaked. They had been vocalizing for a good minute or more before we felt anything. The squirrel was very late to the party. Us humans had been yapping about it for awhile before he joined the chatter. And the wildlife all shut up once it was over. Thus are legends born.
And that’s what’s shakin’.
Mystery at Bird Tree (a Tail Tale)
This morning under Bird Tree I found the remains of a grisly incident: the tail of a northern flying squirrel. There were no other clues. No tufts of fur, no blood—nothing in fact to indicate whether the whole animal met its demise or whether it only lost an appendage. Who did it? And is the victim still alive?
A northern flying squirrel tail. The evidence of the case.
Bird Tree
The birds are beginning to flock up. They must be finished molting and getting ready to migrate. We’ve had a cool, wet summer, but reproductive success appears to be good locally, with large numbers of young birds. Yesterday morning I happened to look out the window at a great time: a very large mixed-species flock of about 40 warblers had gotten together in the chokecherry tree and they were really active.