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

ADAK. ANYONE?

I'm running out of time, and running out of places to find new birds. At least, that's how it feels. And I think I'm about to do something very crazy...

One of the inspirational voices this year for me has been John Vanderpoel and his blog. His incredible Big Year in 2011 netted him 743+1 species. He narrowly missed beating Sandy Komito's all time record of 745+3. By mid December, John realized he needed to up the ante if he was going to beat the record. So he flew to the furthest West town in North America: Adak, a tiny island in the Aleutians - closer to Russia than Anchorage. There, he hoped to see Whiskered Auklet, Whooper Swan and any stray Asian vagrants. He came away with just the Auklet.

Which brings me to the crazy thing I'm considering - going to Adak. (OK. It doesn't sound quite sound so crazy now that John's done it!) Here's why:

1. A flock of swans were seen there yesterday (seen by locals - based on distribution most likely Whoopers - which are known to winter on the island.)
2. Adak is one of the few places in North America to see Whiskered Auklet.
3. There have been several sightings of Smew this fall on Adak.
4. How cool would it be to go somewhere that remote? In the winter?

Oh - and:

5.There's a Dusky Thrush in Anchorage (back for the 3rd winter.) 

I'm thinking of going to Adak on Sunday, Dec 1st and returning to Anchorage on Thursday, Dec 5th. (There are two flights a week to Adak.) I'll be chasing the Dusky Thrush before and / or after Adak, as well as heading up to Nome to try for McKay's Bunting. Or - possibly going to Adak Thursday Dec 5th - Sunday 8th.

I'm posting this now, as I'd love some company out there in the Aleutians. This could be a great trip for anyone who wants to add these hard-to-get species to their ABA list, go somewhere truly remote, and see if I'm making all this big year stuff up! (Am I actually going to all the places that I say that I'm going to?) John Puschock of Zugunruhe Birding Tours has offered to come as a guide (he's been coming to Adak since 2004, but never in the winter.) Plus - there's a sale on air miles with Alaska Airlines. 

 If you're interested in coming, drop me a line at opororniswarbler@gmail.com

Whiskered Auklet (photo by John Puschock) - Adak, Alaska.

+ + +

BIG YEAR LIST: 736 + 2 provisional (Rufous-necked Wood-rail, Common Redstart)

BARROW - BIRDING ON TOP OF THE WORLD

"We'd like to welcome you to Barrow, where the local time is 10am and the temperature is 22 degrees. We'd also like to congratulate the local boat crew: they landed a whale yesterday!"

Welcome to northern Alaska - where whales (especially big, blubbery dead ones) are big news.

Arrival at Barrow - complete with up-to-date whale news

I've swapped the Bering Sea of western Alaska for the Arctic Ocean of the north. I'm here for Ross's Gull - a bird that's famously difficult to track down, spending its entire life above the Arctic Circle. Thankfully, Ross's Gulls migrate along the north Alaskan coast during October, and Barrow - which juts out into the Arctic Ocean separating the Chukchi Sea to the west from the Beaufort Sea to the east - is one of the best places to see them. At this time of year these delicate, pink-flushed birds pass by in the hundreds or even thousands. (I'm hoping for at least one!) I'm also looking for Ivory Gull, a bird I've previously seen in Massachusetts - an all-white bird that feeds on carrion - especially whale carcasses. So hopefully the local dead whale news is good news for Ivory Gulls too. 

Flying into Barrow over the frozen Elson Lagoon to the east. 

The thin strip of land at the top runs out to Point Barrow at the top right.

Barrow is the most northerly city in the US, 300 miles north of the Arctic Circle and 1,300 miles south of the North Pole. It's mostly tundra over permafrost (up to 1,300 ft thick.) Being surrounded by ocean on 3 sides and being pretty flat, it's gets very windy which makes the cold (160 days a year below 0F!) feel even colder. It's technically a desert climate with only 29 inches of snow of year, most of which falls in October. Wait - that's now!

Snow - newly arrived this week.

Looking north towards the Chukchi Sea

I'm here birding with John Puschock, who's leading an ABA tour of Barrow later this week with help from nature photographer Jess Findlay. Fellow big year birder Jay Lehman's joined me, so there are four of us.

3 Birding J's - John, Jess and Jay.

As we drive through town we find the site of the recent whale catch. 

Bloody remains of yesterday's whale butchering

The blood and blubber remains have attracted a large crowd of hungry, screaming Glaucous Gulls

Glaucous Gulls feeding on whale blubber

Whale remains not only attract gulls but also polar bears. And unlike other bears, polar bears see humans as a legitimate food supply and will actively hunt them (apparently human goes down well with a nice cold bottle of Coca Cola.) So, after the whale meat and skin has been divided up among the boat crew the carcass is taken to the end of Point Barrow, far enough away from town.

Follow that carcass! Luring the polar bears away from town.
This is the last of the whale: jaw bones and baleen.

Whale carcass at Point Barrow

The protocol for finding Ross's Gulls is simple - stand outside near the beach, and wait for pink gulls to fly by.

OK. Just take the damn picture!

Seeing Ross's Gulls involves a lot of waiting. And shivering. And then some more waiting.

It's the coldest I've ever felt. Ever. And it's not just me that's cold...

Even the vehicles have to be warmed up at night to prevent them freezing.

(I think Jay wishes he had a plug like this too warm him up too.)

As I'm scanning the ice sheets looking for Ivory Gulls, I suddenly stop. There's a massive white animal thing moving on the ice...

 Polar Bear!

I watch in disbelief as this giant beast lumbers across the ice. The long neck gives it an odd articulation, making it seem at times unbalanced. After walking several minutes away from us, it suddenly stops, splays it giant legs, and dives head first into the frigid waters of the lagoon. We watch as a polar bear head slowly drifts away. It's not a bird, and not the main reason I came here - but finding and watching a polar bear is definitely one of the highlights of a (now long) year that has taken me from the southernmost point of the US to here - the most northerly. After seeing countless images on TV, it feels surreal to be watching one in real time. I only wish my girlfriend Gerri could see this - I know how jealous she'll be that I've seen a polar bear!

It's not long after the elation of the bear sighting that we spot our target bird: a Ross's Gull flies by.

Ross's Gull - even in the winter, the birds are still flushed in pink. (Photo by John Puschock)

Over the course of 2 days we see about 20 birds - some singles and some in small groups. All of them are surprisingly pink, with obvious white trailing edges to the wing, and dark underwings. It's a really elegant bird, a life bird, and I'm very excited to finally see one!

Avian diversity is not high this far north at this time of year. My checklist after 2 days was a paltry 14 species. But the ones we did see were pretty cool...

Snowy Owl. The local, Inupiat, name for the city of Barrow 

is Ukpeagvik - "the place where we hunt Snowy Owls."

(Maybe someone should tell the Snowy Owls)

It's odd being somewhere where almost all the gulls - thousands of them - are Glaucous, and we're sorting through Glaucous Gulls to find an "interesting" one! But we do eventually find one - 

More interesting than a Glaucous? Thayer's Gull (1st winter)

Notice the dark primaries, rounded head, and mottled upperparts.

Ducks are in short supply - most of the local breeders have (wisely) headed south by now. There are some stragglers though, including King Eider on the beaches

and Long-tailed Duck still in their black breeding plumage...

Long-tailed Duck

As well as Snowy Owl, there's another bird of prey here - the Rough-legged Hawk...

Rough-legged Hawk (dark phase)

When we're not birding, there's plenty of local architecture to admire. Check out the local dentist...

Geodesic Dome.

(Cute - but does it make the dental procedures any less painful?)

And a large number of prefabricated arched steel buildings - such as this one at the Naval Arctic Research Laboratory.

"Quonset Huts" - named after their first site of production in Rhode Island.

Popular with the Navy in the mid 20th century.

And despite some innovative landscaping, it's still ridiculously cold...

Palm trees does not a summer make.
Driftwood and whale baleen.

And a reminder that we're a long way from anywhere...

Barrow is a "bush community" - it's not connected the US road system. 

You have to fly in. So really, you can't actually go anywhere from here.

While waiting for Ross's gulls to fly by or checking whale blood and blubber for Ivory Gulls, there's plenty of time to enjoy the sky. Although the sun still rises above the horizon (the arctic winter doesn't start until Nov 18 when the city won't see the sun for another 2 months) the light is oblique, the sky always overcast, making for an eerie twilight.

Looking east along the beach to Point Barrow

Leaden skies over Barrow

My polar bear sighting on day 1 is trumped on day 2 by John, who finds 3 polar bears - a mother with her two young.

Polar bear - family group.

Mothers look after their young until they're at least 2 years old.

Back in town it's October which means this month in Barrow is Fire Prevention Month...

Unfortunately, that meant that Sept probably wasn't, which was when Pepe's, arguably the best restaurant in town, burned down. 

Pepe's Mexican Restaurant (remains of)

(Achorage Daily News photo.)

Maybe they should make every month fire prevention month??

After 2 days of not feeling my extremities, I'm heading back south, to the warmer climes of Anchorage. I'm very happy to have seen Ross's Gull, and disappointed to miss Ivory Gull - I'd love to see one on a whale carcass where it should be, and not lost and off course somewhere in the lower 48. There's a good chance Ivory Gull will turn up later this week, but I'm too cold to wait! I'm cold and tired, and looking forward to a good meal and a decent cup of coffee. Jay's coming, and we're meeting up with Chris Hitt, who's off St. Paul Island and in town for a couple of days. Party!

Getting ready to leave. Yes, the airport really is on a main street in town.

I'm not sure where I'll be after Anchorage. I don't really have a plan. In the back of my mind, I'm still thinking of St. Paul and the putchkie hell. The Pribilofs are having a fairly major storm this weekend - extensive west winds blowing in from Asia. I bet they'll get something good. Should I go back?

Paddling in the Arctic Ocean.

Apparently not a good way to warm up your feet.

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BIG YEAR LIST: 720 + 1 provisional

NEW YEAR BIRDS (1): ROSS'S GULL