Category Archives: Alaska

An Unusual Absence—Where are the Redpolls?

Normally at this time of year our bird feeder is packed with redpolls. They can usually be counted on to empty the thing daily, and we actually ration them so we don’t go through too many forty-pound bags of sunflower seed kernels.

But this year is dramatically different. They’re completely absent. They were scarce early in the winter, but I haven’t heard one for months. This absence became more and more puzzling as the normal late-January visits didn’t appear and the February and March hordes didn’t show either.

But then I realized that I hadn’t seen a single birch seed shadow all winter. These are common in normal years, when even a light breeze drops birch seed all over the snow.* A few years ago we had an astonishingly high birch seed year, but this year it looks like practically none were produced. And so I finally realized why we had no redpolls this winter. I am not sure what the cause is, but it is the first time in our 22 winters’ experience here that it’s occurred. We miss the little buggers.

* A five-year study published in 1972 found an average annual production in birch forest around Fairbanks of 23,303 seeds per square meter. This is why birch seed shadows are usually so visible all winter as these seeds periodically fall.

25 March update: Well, the redpolls read my post and sent a few emissaries. If I’d known things could work this way, I would have posted this in January. A small flock of four stopped by while we were eating lunch. Rose and I just started laughing. It’s amazing how excited you can get to see what’s usually an abundant bird.

The Quasimodo Pile Goes Down—Son of a Birch!

I’ve been taking advantage of our cold weather to split the most ugly, cantankerous, gnarly, and twisted pieces of wood that you can imagine.

Boy, have there been some tough ones. I wrote about the glory of winning in battle over these mean, twisted, miserable chunks of firewood last winter. It’s still one of the truly wonderful parts of our -30 to -40 F cold snaps. The added brittleness of the wood usually makes these stubborn pieces of firewood split fairly easily.

But this year I have one tree that is just killing me. Every damned piece of this thing has been a fight.
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Crossing Paths

I put the book down and brought my head back into the 21st century. I’d been reading 19th-century correspondence about explorations in the far Northwest by some of the most important people to document the biological diversity of Alaska and western Canada. I’d just finished a long letter from 1864 by Robert Kennicott to R. McFarlane, a Hudson’s Bay Company factor.

This was in William Healy Dall’s 1915 biography of Spencer Fullerton Baird, who was the first curator at the Smithsonian Institution and later served as Assistant Secretary and then as Secretary.
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