PTARMAGGEDON - FINAL DAYS ON ADAK

ADAK: days 3-5

"Small dark alcid!"

It's Saturday morning, day 3, and John Puschock is telling me to look in his scope. And in the middle, bobbing up and down on the bumpy water of Kuluk Bay is indeed a small dark alcid. It's tiny - and entirely black. Scrunching up my eyes, trying to wring more detail out of the bird, I can see a hint of a crest.

"Looks good!"

After sea-watching yesterday and not seeing any Whiskered Auklets, I wasn't feeling optimistic. At all. Whiskered Auklets spend their entire year in the Central Aleutians. They like the narrow passes between islands, where they can be found in large feeding groups. At 7-3/4 inches long, they're one of our smallest seabirds and are tough to spot. They're usually only seen from a boat. We don't have a boat, hence the pessimism and the eye-scrunching from shore.

Sea-watching. Kuluk Bay, Adak.

"There's another!"

At this range, it's hard to separate Whiskered from the similar, though larger, Crested Auklet. We're too far to see the white whiskers on the face. Instead, we're looking for the bright white lower belly, a distinctive field mark of the Whiskered Auklet. As well as the Whooper Swans, this is the other bird that lured me to Adak. As I'm thinking of John Vanderpoel's big year, and how he saw this bird in Kuluk Bay in 2011, the tiny black dot in my scope starts running through the water, eventually clearing the surface and lifting up. The buzzy whirring wings bring it directly toward us. It banks, and flops down back into the waves. But not before showing off its bright white belly. Whiskered Auklet! Over the next hour, we spot a few more auklets, and John and I both watch as a close bird dives, again showing off its white belly. Well, that was a lot easier than I'd expected!

We leave the expanse of Kuluk Bay for a quick stop at the jetty, south of town. It's calmer here, which affords some great views of a couple of other alcid species:

Crested Auklet - note the single white streak on the face and the bushy crest. 

Pigeon Guillemot. At this time of year they swap their 
mostly black breeding plumage for mostly white winter plumage.

With our two targets nailed down, we'll have more time to spend looking for rare ducks (Smew, Spot-billed, etc) and to see if anything is coming into the feeders. Unfortunately, it also gives us more time to talk about the Zombie Apocalypse. No, sadly that's not the local hoppy brew served at the ASBAG (least you forget - the Aleutian Sports Bar And Grill.) Rather, an idea for luring tourists here: the hundreds of abandoned houses would make for a great backdrop to a Zombie weekend. We could hire actors to pretend to be zombies and scare the hell out of willing horror junkies. (And no - we did not suggest that some of the locals could play the zombie roles without any makeup or training.) As we're driving round the ghost town that is Adak, it really is pretty spooky...

Ptarmaggedon? Or just some innocent ptarmigans following us around?

Pet Cemetery. 

What was that? I'm thrown back in my seat as the driver stamps on the brakes. Wasn't that...wait, didn't I just see a...? But that's impossible. We were joking about the whole zombie thing, right? Right?

We're standing outside a yellow buiding. Well, the wall would be yellow if it hadn't been completely blown off, exposing a doll's house of rooms beyond. The wind is whistling through exposed beams, and a light fixture is slowing swinging back and forth. Back and forth. There's a rattling sound coming from the floor. We turn to look at each other, wondering if it's too late to make a dash for the car. And then the floor slowly opens up. It's too late - we're frozen in fear as an undead being emerges from the rubble, right in front of us...

Zombie Apocalypse Now - here's one coming up through the floor!!!

It's an ugly creature, violently listing from side to side. And then it turns to face us...

Even scarier from the front!

Oh, wait. That's John. Always did have problems separating John from the undead...Still - the zombie theme park is a pretty good idea. Where else can you see rare alcids and the undead?

OK, I hear you - enough with the Zombie stuff already. Back to the birds... 

One of the most beautiful birds I've seen this entire big year winters here in Adak. It's a small goose, with an unusual patterning. The Emperor Goose breeds in coastal Alaska and winters on the rocky shores of the Aleutians.

Emperor Goose - candidate for most beautiful bird of my Big Year.

(Two young on left, adults on right)

Notice the separation of colors on the neck - white at the back, dark on the front. 
The latter extends to the lower mandible on the bill, which is also dark. 
The silvery-gray edging to the body creates a spectacular scaly effect.

A typical day on Adak is spent driving around the freshwater lakes and ponds looking for ducks, and around the large Clam Lagoon for shorebirds and geese. After our initial sighting of Whooper Swans on Haven Lake on Friday, we see these birds every day for the rest of our trip  - and even once flying over town, honking loudly, the sound after which they're named. We also keep an eye on the feeders and bird seed...

Adak National Forest. 
Bird free during our trip despite copious amounts of bird seed.

I brought one hanging feeder with us, which we placed in a lonely tree sheltered by a decaying brick building.

As we're driving back to check this on Saturday afternoon, I'm suddenly forced back in my seat as John steps on the gas. No zombie apocalypse this time. He must have seen something on the feeder. But why are we driving so quickly? What did John see?

"Accipiter" he shouts, keeping his eyes laser-focussed on the sky ahead. "But there *are* no accipiters here. This could be..."

We pull up to the feeder and spot a large bird rounding the building. We jump out of the car. It's immediately obvious this bird is an accipiter (a hawk with large rounded wings and straight barred tail.) It's flapping as it's gaining height and putting distance between us. And it has a bird in its talons - probably a Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch, the most common visitor to the seed we've put out. We watch as it flees towards the edge of the harbor, finally disappearing behind a warehouse. It does not emerge from the other side.

Accipiter - with prey. Photos by John Puschock.

The size of the bird seems right for Sharp-shinned Hawk or possibly Cooper's Hawk, but not for Goshawk (which would be considerably larger and heavier in build.) But the tail seemed too long for Sharp-shinned or Cooper's. The proportions seemed off for an American accipiter. As we rush over to investigate the other side of the warehouse, we're acutely aware that we're chasing history - what could be the first record of Eurasian Sparrowhawk. Not just for Adak, or Alaska, but for North America. (There are two or three sight reports from Attu, at the far western end of the Aleutian chain - but no definitive accepted records.)

As we round the corner of the warehouse, Jay spots it. "It's flying away!" We lose the bird. Damn! And as we're about to get back in the car, John spots the bird above us - gaining altitude. As John and Jay are snapping away, I'm again aware of the long tail on this perfectly-silhouetted raptor. And the flight style - rapid wingbeats, alternating with glides. The bird climbs higher and higher, eventually drifting off towards the abandoned quarry. We do not relocate the bird that evening. 

Silhouette of accipiter - photo by Jay Lehman

Do we have enough documentation to convince a rarity committee? John and Jay have photos (see here for full set.) Most are backlit. We're hoping that we can find the bird again the next day - Sunday - our final day on the island. It's exciting seeing a potential first for the ABA (I've already seen two this year: Rufous-necked Wood-rail and Common Redstart) but there's a selfish part of me that wishes it were something more common / more tickable, like Eurasian Kestrel or Hobby - something easier to identify without the added scrutiny of a first record. Unfortunately, you don't get much choice when it comes to random rare birds!

I've written a lot about birds, and zombies, but what about where we're living? What's it like?
Well, we've been staying in a lovely 2-bedroom house with a well-equipped kitchen, laundry, TV, full bathroom. Compared to the Pribilofs this is luxury indeed. There's only one problem - the first evening some idiot dufus (who's apparently doing some kind of accidental big year - whatever the hell that is) managed to block the toilet. Half an hour of violent plunger action not only failed to unblock the toilet, but made the problem worse: the contents of the toilet disappeared down one drain only to pop up out of another - the bath. 

"Guys, we have a problem."

The good news was that we had a second toilet (but not shower.) The bad news - it soon transpired that this toilet was also blocked. The bath and both toilets clearly shared the same blocked drain. (Which I have to stress was having blockage issues *before* we arrived.) And thus began our regular early morning trips in the dark to the Mexican restaurant to use their outside bathroom - the one where the light doesn't work, so you not only need a flash light, but the headlights of the car illuminating you through the tiny window.

Our Adak home.

We were ever vigilant in our search for bathrooms during the day. Including, no less, at the Aleutian Sports Bar And Grill...

Seems like the ASBAG has the same problem. And no - I did not break this one.

(And no - they don't sell ASBAGs for this purpose...)

Umm...that's probably enough of that. More than enough. Moving swiftly on...

We returned to the feeder the next morning, but found only feeding Gray-crowned Rosy-finches.

Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch.

The large griseonucha subspecies found in the Aleutians

We checked the other bird seed locations. At one, we saw the flash of a white rump - Brambling! A rare Asian finch - and a life bird for Bill. For Jay and I, this had become a somewhat regular addition on our Alaska trips this year. We'd even seen one in Vancouver, BC. We edged up for better views when a large bird of prey shot out from behind a building seemingly plotting a direct course for the feeding birds. The Sparrowhawk! It immediately spotted us, banked and flew off. We lost it behind the abandoned houses. This time, we did not catch up with it, and was the last time we were to see the bird. We would have to make do with the photos from the previous day. The surprise sortie did however give us some closer views of the bird. I could clearly see (brown) barring on the underside - very different from the vertical streaking on American accipiters. Again, the tail was noticeably long. 

The reason that we had more time to search for the Sparrowhawk that final evening was because our plane was delayed. Apparently it had left Anchorage, and then turned round. "Mechanical issues." As the departure time kept creeping back later and later, I was worried that I'd miss my connecting flight out of Anchorage that night. But at least the flight wasn't cancelled. When that happens, they usually don't have a replacement flight - you just wait for the next scheduled flight - which, with only 2 flights a week to Adak, would be 4 days away. That happened to John Vanderpoel in his big year. He was out here for a week.

"Cancelled."

We were speechles. Another 4 days on Adak! Without a shower! Or toilet! More evenings in the ASBAG! It was a somber scene in the airport. An airport with somewhat unorthodox facilities...

Abandoned foosball table. Adak airport.

(apparently the locals don't have the balls to play it anymore)

Although maybe this (the *airport*) wasn't the safest place to hang out...

"Hmm. Mr Gun doesn't like cancellations. 
Mr Gun would like the flight rescheduled for tomorrow. Wouldn't you, Gunny?"

We were lucky. We found out that Alaska Airlines were putting on another flight the next morning. (Thank you, Gunny!) We weren't stuck here - and did manage to get out. 

Leaving Adak. 

As we were climbing into the plane the next morning, stealing a last glimpse at the mountainous tundra, I reflected on what a successful and fun trip this had been. I was sad to leave. I'd seen some amazing birds here - two of which were new for the year, as well as a potential first for the ABA that was still out there. And my first ever Zombie! But seeing the Aleutians was special. Being at the edge of America on these wind-swept islands was an incredible experience. And as I've noted previously, one of the great things about a big year is spending time with fellow birders. I'm so happy I got to spend more time with fellow Big Year birder and friend Jay Lehman, who I've really enjoyed getting to know this year. (Although I still don't care for his puns - but he'd probably tell me that I'm too Jay-ded...) And it was great meeting Bill Sain from Texas - who got some pretty good life birds here. And a big thanks for John Puschock for making this trip possible. John runs trips throughout Alaska (Zugunruhe Tours) - he's a master of logistics, bird finding, oddball humor and he makes the best quesadillas I've had all year. 

Next year: Zombie apocalypse, anyone?

Flying off into the sunset

+ + +

BIG YEAR LIST: 742 + 3 provisional (Rufous-necked Wood-rail, Common Redstart, Eurasian Sparrowhawk)

NEW YEAR BIRDS (1+1): Whiskered Auklet, Eurasian Sparrowhawk (Provisional)

THE ALEUTIANISTS: WHOOPING IT UP IN ADAK

ADAK: days 1-2

The Aleutian Islands are strung out before me, like volcanic pearls on a giant string necklace, separating the Pacific to the south, from the cold and foggy Bering Sea to the north. According to the native Aleuts this is where the sea breaks its back - the ring of fire that nimbly steps out from the Alaskan peninsula on its 1,200 mile sweeping march west across the desolate sea to Russia, to the Kamchatka peninsula. 

As I gaze down on the mountains and volcanoes, and their futile vertical struggle to escape the relentless sea, I think of my own struggle this year, to see as many birds in North America as possible. A campaign that has taken me to the furthest cardinal points: icy Barrow in the north, Newfoundland to the east, and the sunbaked Dry Tortugas of the south. And so it's fitting that as I near the end of this year I'm heading to Adak, the most westerly town in North America - an island that the international date line swerves to avoid. 

I'm coming to the edge of America to look for Whooper Swans - a rare Asian swan that sometimes winters in the Andreanof Islands (the group to which Adak belongs.) And the Whiskered Auklet - a tiny black seabird with a comical crest and white whiskers that lives here year round, and is found only in the central Aleutians. 

I'm here with John Puschock, who has years of experience guiding on Adak, Bill Sain from Texas, and fellow Big Year birder Jay Lehman. 

Welcome to Adak - "Birthplace of the Winds"

There are 16 miles of "roads" in Adak, and after picking up our rental car we spend the first evening exploring those to the south. Over the past couple of weeks, locals have reported seeing 4 Whooper Swans flying between various lakes in this area. The bad news is that the island is full of lakes - the swans could be anywhere. The good news is that if they are here, it shouldn't be too hard to spot giant white birds.

The scenery reminds me of the Pribilofs - wind-swept tundra with decaying celery plants. Only here, the horizons swell up with imposing mountains and volcanoes.

 

Adak - tundra, mountains and rain clouds. WIth 263 rainy days per year, 

Adak is the second-rainiest inhabited place in the US, after Hilo, Hawaii. 

We only have a few hours before sunset, and after trying a bunch of lakes, we fail to locate any giant white birds.

No swans here.

We do however find lots of smaller white birds - Rock Ptarmigan. They're molting into their white winter plumage, which without any snow cover yet makes them currently fairly obvious...

As the sun sets on our first evening here we head to the Mexican restaurant - which apart from the bar seems to be the only place to eat in town. It's helpful if you've been here before, otherwise it's pretty hard to find in the dark...

Adak - not known for its street lighting

Despite not finding the swans in our first couple of hours here, we're in a jubilant mood (they have beer here.) We're at the edge of the American world - who knows what exciting birds are awaiting us?

The Aleutianists: John Puschock (still eating), 

Neil Hayward, Jay Lehman and Bill Sain

The next morning - and our first full day here - starts with another loop to the south, again looking for swans. While successfully not spotting any, we stop along the way to put out bird seed...

Ummm...John - I think we're gonna need a bigger feeder. 

(The store had sold out of the larger swan-size feeders.)

There are no naturally-occuring trees on Adak - it's too exposed and windy. But there are some introduced coniferous trees. The biggest concentration is at the Adak National Forest...

Adak - where 3 trees make a forest.

"We'll try Haven Lake next," says John. "They've had swans there in the past."

I'd be more excited about the last part, if John hadn't said the same thing about every other swan-less lake we've spent the morning visiting. I'm thinking a lot about John Vanderpoel and his 2011 big year. He came to Adak in Dec, looking for the same quarry as us. His flight back was cancelled (there are only 2 flights a week in and out of Adak) which gave him a whole week here. And in that week, he did not see any swans. We have 3 days.

It's a bumpy drive over the pot-holed gravel road. As we round each bend a new vista opens up, stopping the car as we excitedly scan for birds. Haven Lake is north of town, and requires a gentle rise in elevation. As we crest the top of the road, the lake suddenly appears, spread out before us. And in those initial and confusing seconds several things happen at once: I hear screaming in the car, feel the harsh application of brakes, and I see a large white bird flapping at the end of the lake. Swans! We've found the swans! There are three - an adult and two gray-colored young...

Whooper Swans - adult (left) with two young. 

Notice the large amount of yellow on the bill of the adult.

These birds breed in northern Eurasia (mainly Russia.) The east Asian birds winter in China, Korea and Japan, with a few, like these, braving the harsh Aleutian winters.

Whooper Swan - adult. 

Whoopers pair for life, and look after their young (cygnets) during the winter.

 Whooper Swan - adult (left) with cygnet (right)

After the initial shock and excitement of finding the swans, we're all speechless as we watch these graceful creatures effortlessly float around the lake. Meanwhile, back on land, there are some less graceful creatures...

Look - swans! 

 

Happy birders at Swan Lake. John's pointing at the swans behind. 

(Wait, that is his index finger, right?)

Adak played an important role for the US military in World War II. After the Japanese took control of the western Aleutian islands of Attu and Kiska, the US Army Air Force launched attacks from a base here in Adak, and successfully reclaimed the islands. After the war, the base was transitioned to the US Navy who developed a base for submarine surveillance during the Cold War. At its peak, the city of Adak housed over 7,000 personnel and families. There was a college, a school, hospital, movie theater, pool, bowling alleys, and even a McDonald's.

The end of the Cold War hostilities prompted the Navy to close the base in 1997. The facilities were transferred to the native Aleut Corporation, and the thousands of personnel that had called Adak home left. Today it's a ghost town - except for some 80 residents that live among the ruins. 

Abandoned to the elements - hundreds of houses 

serve as reminders of a once populous town.

Not much for sale in the Adak Shop these days...

Not so fast food. A McDonald's ruin.

We celebrate our swan sighting that night at the one bar in town - the Aleutian Sports Bar and Grill. It's affectionately known as the ASBAG and less affectionately known as the ASBAG.

And like the restaurant the night before, it's not an easy place to find...

Welcome to the ASBAG!

The ASBAG has all the ambience of the 1980s except for the prices.

As we're celebrating, Jay reminds me how I told him, not so long ago, that "I'm definitely not going to Adak!" As this year has progressed I've found myself in many odd places that I'd never have expected. And being in Adak in the winter is definitely one of them. But with swans, good company and the ASBAG, I could be doing a lot worse!

Stay tuned for the next trip report from the edge of the world...

+ + +

BIG YEAR LIST: 741 + 2 provisional (Rufous-necked Wood-rail, Common Redstart)

NEW YEAR BIRDS (1): Whooper Swan

PINK AND WHITE IN TEXAS

Except for the bauxite-chewing aluminum factory and its associated body parts of pipes, towers and chimneys, it would be the perfect view: the morning light bouncing off the surprisingly bumpy waves, the sea spraying off the sides of the boat, and in the distant shallows, the shimmering mud flats. It's towards the latter that we're speeding - Jay Allison, the captain of the 22ft boat, and I. Our goal - a couple of large pink birds. Hard to miss, apparently.

This is not where I expected to be today, after arriving in Anchorage on Friday and sheltering from snow in Nome on Sunday. Unplanned perhaps, but happy - yes. I'd been putting feelers out for American Flamingo - a bird I thought I'd still have a chance at this year. And then I received word that the famous mismatched flamingo pair had been spotted hanging out in Cox's Bay, a shallow inlet off Port Lavaca on the Texas Gulf Coast. They'd been seen this weekend. I didn't want to wait until after my Adak trip, and so made the quick dash south for a couple of days.

"That might be them..." 

Jay points the boat in the direction of a couple of large pink dots. And as we approach closer, the dots start developing long necks and legs. Flamingos! Pretty hard to miss...

Flamingos on the Texas Gulf Coast! Greater (left) and American (right)

These birds have been reported all along the Gulf Coast since 2006 

- from Tampico, Mexico to Louisiana.

These two birds are actually different species. And because both birds are banded we know something about their life histories. One bird is a wild American Flamingo (also known as Caribbean Flamingo) that hatched in 2005 from a flamingo colony at the Rio Lagartos Biosphere Reserve at the northern tip of the Yucatan. (It has a yellow band on its right leg above the knee - "HDNT".) The other bird is the larger and paler Greater Flamingo - an Old World species that breeds in Europe, Africa and Asia. It escaped from Sedgewick County Zoo in Wichita, Kansas on June 27th, 2005 (along with another bird that has not been found.) It also has a yellow band on its right leg - "492". Only the smaller, darker American Flamingo (the one banded in the Yucatan) is countable as a wild bird.

Yes - flamingos really do get their color from their food. They're born with gray feathers, 

which become pink through eating foods such as shrimp that are rich in beta carotene.

It's not clear what gender these birds are. The two species are close enough that they could possibly breed, although flamingos typically only do so in colonies. They lay a single egg on the ground, benefiting from the protection afforded by the surrounding birds. (The Yucatan colony has over 20,000 birds!) Flamingos are extremely social birds, which explains why these two lost birds have been hanging out with each other. The Yucatan bird would be 8 years old now - they typically reach sexual maturity at around 6 years and can live 30-40 years and possibly as long as 80 years. Flamingos are monogamous.

I'm very grateful to Jay for taking me out in his boat. These birds are only viewable by boat - they can't be seen from land. Thank you Jay!


My flight back to Alaska isn't until tomorrow. Which gives me enough time to track down the only non-rarity in the Lower 48 that I still need this year - Whooping Crane. And they're only a 40 minute drive away.

Standing 5 feet tall, Whooping Cranes are North America's tallest bird. Unfortunately, they're also one of the rarest. A combination of habitat loss and unregulated hunting reduced an estimated 10,000 birds (when the Europeans first arrived) to only 15 adults by 1938. Facing certain extinction, conservation efforts went into protecting habitat and preventing hunting. It's been successful in stopping the decline. But there are still only a few hundred birds in the wild.

The best place to see these cranes in the US is Aransas, on the Gulf Coast, just north of Corpus Christi. It's here that almost the entire population of Whooping Cranes winters each year, after making the long migration south from their breeding grounds in the muskeg bogs of northern Alberta, Canada.

Aransas NWR visitor center. (Cranes not countable)

I head out to the Heron Flats trail, where from a viewing platform I can see across the brackish marsh.

In the distance, I spot a group of cranes - Sandhill Cranes, the other (much more numerous) crane found in North America. But the gray flock of Sandhill Cranes is dwarfed by two large, white birds - Whooping Cranes...

Whooping Cranes - large, white, with black flight feathers, a red crown and black around the face. These birds are much larger than the gray Sandhill Cranes.

Whooping Cranes are no longer banded to keep track of individuals - with such a small population the risks of injuring the birds during capture are too great. Instead, they're "voiceprinted" - their calls are sufficiently unique for conservation biologists to recognize and track individuals.

Whooping Crane (right) with Sandhill Crane (left)

Whooping Cranes are omnivores, though they eat a lot more animal matter than other cranes - including frogs and small birds. Here in Aransas, they're dining on the local delicacy - blue crabs.

Hey - I think I found a blue crab!

In recent years a new migratory population has been established with breeding grounds in Wisconsin (Necedah NWR) and wintering in Florida. Since this is a completely new migration route, the birds had to be taught where to go. They did so by being trained to follow an ultralight aircraft that then made the WI-FL trip with cranes in tow. Once the adults had learned this, they were able to teach new, young birds. There are about 100 birds in this eastern population. Additional, non-migratory groups have also been established in Florida and Louisiana. Hopefully, with this diversification, Whooping Cranes and their loud iconic honking calls (after which the birds are named) will once again be a familiar sight and sound in this country.

It's been a long time since I've had two new year birds in one day. I'm very glad I had time to leave Alaska to make this quick trip. And as I head back up to San Antonio for the night, I suddenly spot another new bird. I slam on the brakes, and jump out. Thankfully, I don't flush the birds - which adopt a defensive posture, remaining eerily motionless on the grass.

Suburban Flamingo (Phoenicopterus plasticus) 

These birds prefer residential lawns (which in the winter they often share with Suburban Dwarf Reindeer.) Although not secretive, the birds can remain motionless for hours / days / forever. Given their lack of substantial feeding, they're lightweight, and can easily blow over in a strong wind.

Unfortunately, Texas, and hence the ABA, doesn't recognize Suburban Flamingo as a self-sustaining wild species. (It doesn't help that there are no reported cases of breeding and young birds have, so far, never been observed.) So - they're not countable. Just as well I saw the real thing this morning! (And yes, I did check to see if those guys moved.)

And so tomorrow I head back to Alaska, ready to fly out to Adak on Thursday. I have no idea what's out there - there are no birders on the island. But with good company (John Puschock, Bill Sain and my Big Year birding buddy, Jay Lehman), the possibility of finding our own rarities, and even a local bar, I'm sure there'll be some good stories to tell.  Although probably none involving any pink plastic birds.

There are other good birds at Aransas too - like this Tricolored Heron

+ + +

BIG YEAR LIST: 740 + 2 provisional (Rufous-necked Wood-rail, Common Redstart)

NEW YEAR BIRDS (2): American Flamingo, Whooping Crane