Monthly Archives: March 2013

Geese Chasing Away Solitude

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We hoped to purchase some solitude and views of Canada Geese by taking this ice covered trail during a rain storm. As expected rain water covers the ice in a glistening clear blanket that would have made the trail unusable but for the  winter’s worth of dropped hemlock needles allowing my boots purchase.

L1190843Getting it at a bargain price Aki and I find solitude here broken only by the snuffling of her searching nose, the sound of rain drops hitting my parka hood, mallard chuckles, eagle complaints, and the near hysterical song of geese being driven off shrinking sand bars by a rising tide.

Reaching an open meadow we find a clump of the calming geese feeding alongside the trail ahead. They are all business at first but then one of their unit stops feeding to watch our approach. Aki, no fool she, is not interested in messing with these big wild birds.  Even though we try skirting them at a distance, the geese eventually take flight and move on to the next tidal meadow. Now we hear geese warning calls coming from across the river, giving advanced warning of the approach of several formations of Canada Geese that fly overhead to join their just departed buddies 300 meters away on the other meadow.

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Moving across the meadow we reach a gently sloping beach of sand bordering the perfectly still waters of Lynn Canal now reflecting a murder of crows flying toward the river.  A smaller gang of the black birds have assumed station at the top of a beach side spruce to wait for the abundance of low tide.

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Such a Chick Magnet

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This is March at its best—day long sun, long days, little wind, comfortable temperatures. Looking across to Douglas Island from our kitchen window I can see where Aki and I will spend part of it.  Just below the ridge line lies a mountain bowl drained by Kowee Creek, now flooded with afternoon light, that we haven’t visited for some time. That must change today.

L1190770In minutes we reach the trailhead and start up a trail packed down by snow machines. I’m carrying snow shoes but soon stash them along side the trail. They are not needed on this well set trail that takes us past dark forests and slanting meadows covered with sensuous mounds of snow crystals that sparkle like rock candy. I grab and hold Aki when two snow machines approach from down trail. They whine as they move towards us driven by riders dressed in sleek jumpsuits, dark goggles, and molded helmets with mouth protectors—-high tech insects passing over old ground.

L1190779Aki gives a light hearted chase to the machines as they move up trail. I feel the same way about them on this perfect day; reminded by the sound and smell of their half consumed hydrocarbons of our old life in Western Alaska when we used snow machines to gather food and firewood. As their sound fades I hear for the first time the open waters of Kowee Creek mix with songs of birds sheltering in the belt of trees that hide it from view. Two college aged woman approach and begin gushing about Aki in her bright red wrap. She is such a chick magnet, one that thankfully came into my life after I could use her as a bridge to loveliness.

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Spotlights of Spring

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Seamus, the digital display on our electronic thermometer, has dressed himself in shorts and sunglasses and promises an outside temperature of 45(f). Seamus sometimes lies but not today. From our kitchen window on Chicken Ridge I can see sunlight bouncing off the waters of Gasteneau Channel, bringing the whitest highlights out of the snow covering Douglas Island.

Aki, who has spent her morning inside contemplating the unfairness of a poodle’s life, throws all sadness aside to bounce around the living room as I collect the paraphernalia of adventure—water bottle. camera, dog leash. In a half and hour we are dropping through the old growth forest on one of her favorite trails— the one leading to a wide curving beach between False and True Outer Point.

L1190745Sun may be driving cold from beach and ridge but beneath the thick forest canopy winter holds on making me wish I had worn a wool rather than cotton hat. Shafts of light do penetrate down, mottling the forest understory like the floor of an old barn. In the beaver manufactured swamp one shaft spotlights a yellow knot of emerging skunk cabbage plants while the surrounding dark water forms a mirror for the surrounding trees.

The beach is empty of dog, man and bird when we emerge onto it. There is sun light to stand in and to bring a rich mixture of lights and darks to the snow covered Chilkat Mountains across Lynn Canal. Aki wants to keep to the beach with its sun and promise of dog encounters  but follows without protect when I return to the cool forest drama.

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Escaping from Winter

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This morning’s sun has strength enough to warm my face and soften the meadow snow at my feet. We stand next to a open creek with waters dark enough to hide the young salmon heading to sea and the few sea trout (steelheads) that make a propagation pilgrimage here each spring. All we see today is the reflection of Lion Head Mountain and a few Golden Eye ducks fishing downstream.

P1100370Later we will spot Canada Geese skulking under a spruce growing near the creek bed. For now the sun is enough as we follow the stream to where it cuts through a meadow on which spruce trees form evergreen islands.

The snow cover ends at meadow’s edge where Aki finds some interesting smells to investigate. Here the adventurous plants, no longer cut off from light by snow and ice swell in size and color, turning a rich yellow-green. They draw the eye as does the wine red berries that survived the winter, still attached to the stems that sustained them last summer—a sweet late winter treat.

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Last Fall a sudden freeze trapped gas bubbling up from this shallow stream bed to form little ice bound globes. Today they escape as sunlight melts away their transparent prison.

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