Revealing the Truth

 Will the real boss of Tern Lake please stand up?

And there you have it, Ladies and Gentlemen.   The real boss of tern lake is not the river otter, nor the red-necked grebes, though they try.  

It is none other than the Trumpeter swan cob (male).   The female is called a pen.

The Swans and the River Otter, a Melodrama for Our Time

In a land where winter is begrudgingly letting slip its grip little by little, where snowflakes and rain drops form and fall at every cloudy opportunity, and where there is little open water in a nearby roadside lake, returning species take what they find and wait for better days.

 

The resident trumpeter swans returned to their lake more than a week ago, as they do whenever there’s a mid-winter thaw.   I suppose it’s their way of staking claim to Tern Lake before any migrating swans attempt the same.  They don’t seem to mind the other waterfowl that are arriving almost daily—the hardy mallard and the common mergansers, all of which—including the swans—have wintered over in nearby lakes.

 

For now, as the lake is still mostly covered with ice, food is hard to find for the swans and they are a bit possessive of their surroundings.   Even so, opportunistic feeders like the mallards stay close to the swans, waiting for the long-legged white birds to scratch up vegetation from the lake bottom.  Then they dart in and grab what they can when it floats to the surface.

 

On a recent day, the swans found an intruder of a different kind and they kept a close eye on it.  A river otter had  punched a hole in the softer brash ice near the thawing edge and was lying on top.

 

The swans began to act anxious for the intruder to leave, but the otter went about its business, diving and surfacing, and paid the swans no mind.   Didn’t even look at them.

 

Finally, the swans had enough and one, probably the cob (male) advanced on the otter, followed slowly by the female swan (pen).

 

This time, the otter looked.   The cob swam closer, loudly letting the otter know what they thought about its intrusion.....

 ....and the otter dived beneath the ice.

 

The swans posted guard near the otter’s ingress/egress.

 

 

 

But the otter wasn’t about  to be run off from the open water, the warm sun, and the goodies it was finding down below the ice.

 

Instead, it punched another hole through the brash ice about 50 feet away and continued on with its activities while the swans maintained their guard at its former position.

 

It dived and resurfaced with underwater vegetation, time and again.

It enjoyed the sun and rolled in the corn snow atop the ice to clean itself.

 

 

The swans apparently decided to leave the otter alone.

 

 

 

Then came an intruder of the two-legged kind.   The photographer quickly went home to get a longer lens, returned to the site, crossed the highway, and lined up for a shot of the otter with the big lens.   Nothing but black.   

The lens cap was still on the lens.

 

I took it off with my cold hand and it slipped from my grasp.   Did it fall to the roadway?

 

Well, yes , it did,  but not before striking the guardrail with the loudest CLANG ever heard by swans or otters or photographers!

 

I scarcely made it over the guardrail and through the brush before the otter decided to get Outta Dodge.  

 

 

Next thing I knew, the otter had surfaced farther away and in its original spot, and the swans were next to it.    The otter dived again.

 

By that time, the sun was behind clouds and heading for sundown, and all the fun was fait accompli.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sharing the Unique Animals of Samburu National Refuge with You

(TO VIEW THE PHOTOS IN THEIR BEST RESOLUTION, CLICK ON ONE.   THAT OPENS A FILM STRIP TGHAT YOU CAN BROWSE THROUGH.)

I recently responded  to a post on Facebook by long time friend and photographer Eberhard Brunner, who was telling of his travels through Africa in 1973.

 

In the story, he was heading to an area in northern Kenya called Samburu, and told of warnings from locals about the dangers there from roaming Somalis.

 

In response to my comment, he asked if I’d ever been to Samburu.   So, I went into my 2021 photo archives and dug out some photos to show him.

 

Samburu National Reserve is home to five “rare” species,  few of which are found elsewhere:   the reticulated giraffe, Beisa oryx, gerenuk, Grevy’s zebra, and Somali ostrich.

 

I thought I’d share the photos with you, along with some information about them.

 

The reticulated giraffe:

 

 

 

Giraffes are the tallest land mammal on earth, though the reticulated is the smallest of the nine varieties at 15 to 18 feet high, with a body length of 12 to 15 feet.   Males can weigh up to 3000 lbs., and females about 1500 lbs.

 

  Their rich auburn polygon patches are offset by striking cream-colored lines, with each giraffe having a pattern unique to itself.

 

 

The Beisa oryx is considered near threatened due to its declining population.   Lions, leopards, and cheetahs are the main predators of these medium-sized antelope.   Their ringed horns are thin and straight and grown by both sexes.   Some males have been known to grow horns up to four feet, though more common are those in the 30 inch length.

 

Both males and females have the same striking colors.

 

 

More closely related to the wild ass, the Grevy’s zebra is taller than its cousins, the plains zerba, which are more related to the horse.   They have longer legs and larger ears, as well as narrower stripes.

 

Reticulated giraffe and Grevy's zebra.

The population of Grevy’s zerbras has declined 54 per cent in the last three decades, with an estimate only 2000 left.   When I was at Samburu, the country was experiencing an extreme drought and wildlife personnel were providing hay for the zebra.   There was plenty of water to drink, but not enough rainfall to grow the grass these herbivores favor.

 

 

The Gerenuk.   What an unusual animal.    In Somali, the word gerenuk means giraffe-necked and it is so appropriate.   Another unusual trait of this antelope is its ability to stand on its hind leg and eat leaves from bushes.

 

Habitat loss has reduced to gerenuk population to near-threatened.

 

 

Somewhat smaller than the common ostrich, the Somali ostrich is unique in that its skin of pale blue-gray.   During breeding season, the neck of the common ostrich becomes red which the Somali becomes bright blue.   This ostrich has a wide range across several countries.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 I think the scenery around Samburu National Reserve is some of the most pleasing of all the places I've been in Africa.

 

We came upon this lion finishing his impala meal in thick brush.   

A few minutes later, he and his brother made a mad dash across the river, running and leaping so the Nile crocodiles didn't catch them.

This little calf is sticking out its trunk to smell us.

A  leopard in thick brush close to nightfall.   My camera ISO was at 12800!

The prettiest of all the guineaufowl, from the neck down at least, is the Vulturine guineafowl, so called because its head resembles that of a vulture.

Beautiful bird.

Okay, that's it.   Hope you enjoyed.

Busted in Small Town Alaska

 

Chunks of ice are stranded at low tide in Turnagain Arm.

 

Pewter-colored skies, flat light, and occasional raindrops don't make for nice photographs, but I was determined to get out and find something to aim a lens at, knowing that anything I photographed would be surrounded by snow.

Snow, I thought, will cover up a lot of distracting things, historical or not.

Sixmile Creek.

 I wound up in Hope, a very small, former gold-mining town along Turnagain Arm.

 

I drove slowly up and down one-lane roads in residential neighborhoods, looking for subjects and peering into yards.  The roads were in that transitional state from winter to spring, partly snow, water, and ice, and partly gravel showing through.

Though I saw no one, I felt there were eyes on me as I wandered, turning around in driveways, stopping frequently.

I turned onto the main street where a lot of old cabins are located, most dating from the gold rush around the 1900s. 

 

 

I climbed up four- and five-foot rotting snow banks to get more of the cabins in view.   I passed the old post office, the social hall, and a café.

Window detail.

 

The historic museum was buried in snow so I couldn’t get close to several cabins there.

 

 

One of the many historic markers attached to a fence.

 

As I was leaving town, I pulled over to the side to make sure the cameras were secure in their seat belt. A van pulled up next to me.

 

Here it comes, I thought. A local is going to want to know why I was prowling the town. 

 

A man came around the front of the van as his Australian shepherd, riding shotgun, stared at me.

 

I rolled down my window, ready with an explanation and an apology.

 

"Are you the one who picks up trash along the highway?" he asked. I nodded, realizing he must have seen  my truck parked along the highway.

 

He smiled and stuck out his hand.

 

"I've been wanting to meet you and say thanks. If you ever need anything when you're in Hope, the lady at the post office knows where I am. Anything at all," he said.

Jamesway hut, similar to Quonset huts.

I have a fondness for old Jamesways and Quonsets because my family lived in one for several years when we first came to Alaska.

POST SCRIPT:

 I drove away with a full heart and remembrances of my many visits to Hope.   My parents loved to come here to pan for gold. 

I thought of one time when I'd stubbed my little toe and was sure it was broken.   It hurt a lot.   Sitting in the back seat, I rolled down the window and stuck my foot out.   The cold air felt good and my toe didn't hurt as much.

 I sometimes bring visitors here to eat at the Seaview.   

And, Hope is one end of the Resurrection Pass Trail, which I've hiked and snowmobiled and run my dog team along.