Rotting Broccoli Leads to Playing Hooky.

 The broccoli was stinking up the garage, so it was time for it to go bye-bye.

We don't have garbage service here.   We have to haul our own to a transfer station with big roll-on/roll-off containers.

And the broccoli was in a kitchen garbage bag, and the bag was in a plastic trash container in my garage to keep the bears from getting in it.   I don't know if bears like broccoli or if the stench of spoiled broccoli would attract them, but nevertheless, it was time to haul my garbage.  

Those big containers are an 18-mile round-trip drive from me in one direction, or 25 in the other.   I decided to combine the trash haul with picking up litter at a site near Cooper Landing.    So, I loaded up the trash in Behemoth — that's what I call my F-150 pickup, which is too big for me — grabbed my camera with the big lens and some Gatorade, and away we went.

The very poisonous baneberry.

Red Baneberry

Trash dumped, I thought I'd tidy up all the pullouts on the way home.   I did one and realized I was tired of picking up after litterers, but went to a site near Mile 40.   I cleaned up two big pullouts and part of the highway before I discovered I was really, really tired of it.

Sight-seeing.   That's what I'd do.   A day off from litter and some nice scenery.  However, to reach my destination, I had to go by Wildman's in Cooper Landing, which is a many-purpose store that gets a lot of customers.   Espresso drinks, sandwiches, general groceries and merchandise, liquor store, and ice cream, both regular and soft-serve.

Ice cream it was in a home-made waffle cone that was so tender I wound up eating Bordeaux cherry ice cream from a wad of paper towels.

Bordeaux cherry in a waffle cone.   Mjust be almost a pint of ice cream in a single scoop.

I finished the ice cream by the time I reached an 18-mile scenic loop called Skilak Lake Road.

Once I reached mile one, I pulled over to the left side and slowly drove along with my window open and holding my phone out so Merlin ID could pick up the sounds of any birds.  This is a gravel road with a slow speed limit and people are used to sight-seers stopping anywhere.

It heard only a robin, so that was a bust.   But the fireweed blooms were outrageous.   This country was savaged by a lightning-caused wildfire in 2019 and the fireweed explosion the next summer was beyond compare.   It's still doing nicely.

At an overlook near the top of the hill, I stopped and was approached by a tourist from Pennsylvania.   He nodded at the safety vest I was still wearing and asked if I worked here.

No, I told him, I was picking up litter.   Then he said he and his companions were just talking about how clean the roads were on the Kenai Peninsula.

"I only cover 40 miles, " I said.  

"Then there must be a lot of others like you out there!"

Music to my heart!

On I went, driving toward the west entrance/exit.   Didn't see much, other than a common loon that disappeared before I could get the camera ready, a couple ducks that were too far away to ID, and a few LBBs (Little Brown Bird) flyovers.

Where did that loon go?

No bears.

It occurred to me as I neared the end of the drive that I hadn't seen any litter.  Then, a few things started to appear--a crushed soda bottle, a plastic cup, a piece of paper.

I pulled into the welcome sign at the entrance and walked back to get them.  Holy smokes!  There was a lot of litter around the signs.   As I began to get it, there were six mosquitoes on the back of my hand!

Some other time, mosquitoes!

Out on the highway and heading home, I saw a cow moose with her little calf.   Made the whole excursion worthwhile.

Curious baby

Mom's portrait.

All in Good Time

What can I say? It's summer in Alaska, and I've been busy both photographing birds, animals, and wildflowers, as well as engaging in my usual practice of picking up litter for 40 miles along the Seward highway. 

Over the next few days, I'll post a few photos along with some explanations. Short and quick because I have to get out on the road. The vegetation is way ahead of me.

First off, the Tern Lake trumpeter swans hatched six cygnets and then took them into seclusion on the far side of the lake.   This is their usual behavior.

The American Dippers, formerly called water ouzels, which is a much cooler name, had three eggs hatch.

So many mouths to feed!

Sometimes the parents weren't fast enough with the grub, so the fledgling foraged on its own.

The Common Loons appear to have one chick.   It 's riding on an adult's back.   They were way too far away for my lens.

This photo needs an explanation.   One parent is behind the loon carrying the chick, and feeding it.   All you can see is the adult's head.

The two photos below show one red-necked grebe parent leaving the nest and the other ready to take its turn incubating what appear to be four eggs.   This is the second nest the red-necked grebes made this season.   

The first nest they made did not yield any chicks.   The reason could be many--something like a gull, eagle, or otter got the eggs.   The eggs may not have been fertile.  Anything.

They promptly built another nest some distance away and, by my reckoning, are close to the 23-day incubation period.   I hope to watch baby grebes soon.

What these greater and lesser scaup are up to is anyone's guess.   Hoping to see their chicks as I consider them the cutest baby ducks of all.

Hanging out with the scaup was a pair of ring-neck ducks.

Note the white markings on their bills.

As for litter, I am currently working in Turnagain Pass, having walked--little by little-- the 30 miles from home.   My current count of bags filled with litter is around 200.

And off I go.

National American Bald Eagle Day

 In honor of  National American Bald Eagle Day, here are some photos of our national bird.   All these photos, except for a couple,  were taken within two miles of my home.

Four sub-adult eagles on a single branch.

Juvenile eagle on a tussock

This one looks like a fledgling

Too far away and highly cropped, but I still like the look.

Bronzed eagle with frost.

Note the eagle's breath.

Eagle in winter,

These eagles were bathing in a marsh near Portage.

Facing off over a slmon scrap.

Fighting for the salmon.

Eagle in flight.   Note the eye between the wing feathers.

Eagle at sunset.  Photo taken from a kayak.

Full Throttle Day

Today was totally crazy!!! It's like my throttle was stuck wide open and I was in danger of being over sped.

I stayed up too late reading and slept WAY too late. I felt awful--noises in my ears, headache, shaky. Then just before I forced myself to go pick up litter, a surprising nosebleed!

I cleaned up litter along 0.4 miles, the most distance I've been able to go post-op. I could have done more but the "scattered rain showers" chose my location to scatter upon.

Came back and spied on the waterfowl at Tern Lake for a while.

At home, I did some minor maintenance on the lawn tractor, and "shaved" two lawns to get the dead grass, leaves, etc. picked up. This involved several trips to the place where I dump lawn clippings and emptying the two baskets, which I didn't think I'd be able to lift, but did.

Finished raking up the bark from firewood in the carport.

Then, fixed myself two eggs over medium on Jewish rye toast. First time post-op I've been able to swallow either.

And I'd still be out there if the batteries on the string trimmer and leaf blower didn't need charging. I don't know where all this energy suddenly came from!

Visiting the Water Ouzel Nursery

 Little gray/brown birds that live along creeks and walk underwater were once called Water Ouszels, but are now called American Dippers.

You can find these birds, legs sheathed in ice, even in the coldest of winters, plunging into the water to search of edibles.

They are my favorite Alaskan bird, by far, even beyond my adoration for warblers and kinglets.

I recently decided to visit a nearby creek when I know the dippers have a nest.    

Sure enough, the adults were busy bringing beaks full of food for their three hatchlings.

Nondescript and hard to find unless they are moving, the dippers bring insects and a tiny fish to the nest.

Dippers don't care if humans are there.   This one was foraging within a foot of my feet as I sat on the creek bank about eight feet from its nest.

Then, up to the nest it went and three huge mouths opened to receive the bounty.

\

Notice all the moss in the nest.   That was put there this year.

I leave you with this sight.   

Here we are, not even the middle of May and the hatchlings are already growing feathers.

Alder-Bashing for Litter

“Did you plan that rest?” asked Mary Mcdonald when she saw me sitting down in a thicket of alder branches.

“Not exactly,” I responded.   Apparently, she hadn’t seen the other three times the alders tripped me and put me to the ground.

Alders are wicked.  Huge branches grow outward and upward in a circle from a central root and they intertwine with their close neighboring alders. They are devilishly designed to foil the most agile human trying to climb through them in search of yet another beer can or diaper.   

Just a small part of the mess.

When Mary volunteered to help me clean up litter along the Seward Highway several years ago, I immediately declared myself aged out of alder bashing and assigned her the pullouts where alders grew.   She’s 20 years younger.

We give these pullouts a thorough cleaning every spring, all the way to the bottom of their slopes.   After the alders leaf out, we don’t go into them because we wouldn’t be able to see any bears attracted to the garbage.

Yesterday, after Mary cleaned up litter in the Mile 40 area of the Seward Highway, she joined me at Mile 50.5 pullout to clean up a gigantic litter mess.   It’s the first time we worked together, as we usually take different areas.

Mary took the alders growing on the downslope.   That slope goes down 50 to 60 feet.   I cleaned up the paved parking area and the horizontal areas beyond the guard rail.  

Then, I ventured down the slope, and, because one beer can leads to another beer can, I soon found myself in the damned alders where I took the unplanned rests on the ground.  These are not falls, but a slow sinking to the ground when footing failed and branches don’t hold me as I’d hoped.

The verticle trees are cottonwoods, and the crazy tangled branches are alders.

More than six woman-hours were put into the effort and when done, we had filled nine litter bags.   The main part of the litter was a number of burst-open garbage bags that once contained numerous diapers, wipes, and tampons.  Some of the empty bags were hanging from the alder trees.   And the diapers were heavy after being exposed to wet weather.

I have no idea why this pile of road sand is here.   It had litter mixed in it, and the center is still frozen.

Mary found four pizza boxes and I found another.   There was the usual assortment of beverage cans and bottles, assorted wrappers and papers.   I even found a cat bed.  

All cleaned up.

Mary had the biggest find:   a brand-new computer still in its original, unopened packing, along with a surge protector, a printer (I think), and other tech items.   She hauled them uphill out of the maddening alders.  Later, she called the state troopers and reported finding them.  We probably will never know the story behind them.