Monthly Archives: July 2020

Hilda Meadows

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We woke this morning to blue skies. Sunshine reflecting off its surface made it difficult to look down Gastineau Channel. The weather service warned that the clouds would return in two hours. Aki had already had her breakfast so I quickly finished my coffee and we headed for the car. We should just have enough time to hike to the upper Hilda Meadows before the sun disappears. 

            Nagoon berry blossoms and dwarf fireweed color portions of the lower meadow magenta. Other spots are yellow with buttercups or just a lush, mid-summer green. Aki helps herself to water when the opportunity arises, wading in chest deep to soak her gray curls. I stop worrying about her overheating. 

            The steep trail brings us quickly to the upper meadows on the steep. I start photographing small fields of bog laurel and shooting stars before the sun disappears. As Aki lingers in a stream of snow melt,  I look for yellow avens or white lady tresses orchids. But the place is dominated by the magenta-colored bog laurels. 

            In years past, Aki has hesitated to follow me onto the meadows. On those trips my boots made a sucking sound each time I lifted one from the boggy ground. Today my boots are quiet and she just trots along. I assume this is because the meadow has dried out. Many of the tiny bog ponds have been reduced to mud. This makes no sense because last month we experienced a near amount of rain. Has the fabric beneath the meadow has lost its ability to keep the water from draining down to bedrock?  

Dethroned Raven Princes

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If that baby raven would quiet down we might be able to hear the sparrows and robins. Recently fledged from its nest in the Troll Woods, the raven sits in a cottonwood tree, demanding that his parents bring him food. The parents roost in another cottonwood tree, acting like they don’t know their child. 

            On the other side of the moraine, another raven prince squawks for service from its parents. Soon, hunger will force the newly launched to get their own food. I and the raven parents can’t wait for that day. 

            Except for the ravens and a bear sow and cub, the moraine seems empty. After leaving the trailhead parking lot, the little dog and I haven’t seen another human or dog. People must be spending this holiday weekend elsewhere—maybe at home or the beach. 

On our return to the car, we approach a human family—mom, dad, two toddlers. The trail’s wide here so we can easily maintain two meter social distance. The little family forms a line with their towhead daughter in front. The kids and mom wave like the Queen on Coronation Day. The dad brings up the rear. Instead of a hand, he waves a tiny American flag. That, little day, is what a parade looks like in the time of Covid 19. 

Cowee Meadows

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Aki and I are driving north to the end of the Juneau highway system. It’s a holiday weekend so the side of the road is lined with parked cars at each beach. I hadn’t intended on driving far. But each trailhead parking lot is jammed. Thirty-eight miles out, we reach the Cowee Meadows trailhead. Even though the trail leads to three forest service cabins, there are only two cars in the parking area. 

            After pulling on my mosquito repelling shirt, I lead Aki onto the boardwalk trail. Not wanting to overstress her injured leg, I tell myself that we will only walk a mile or so, to where the trail swings out of the forest and onto a flower-covered meadow. The little dog seems fine when we reach the meadow so I continue on, hoping to reach the section dominated by will iris. While there, I think about the marmots. 

            Just a mile more and we will reach the mouth of Cowee Creek where a colony of marmots hang out. Looking like oversized Guinea pigs, the marmots stand as rigid as bowling pins on the tops of glacier erratics (boulders) to watch us pass. 

            No clouds block the sun and its calm. The little dog starts to pant. I divert over to a small stream so she can help herself to water. She wades in chest deep, letting the stream cool her down. I forgot to bring a water bottle and could use a drink. But the marmot village is only a kilometer away. 

            A shrill warning whistle lets us know the marmots are near. But they don’t show themselves. I search each time we hear another whistle, but see nothing but wild flowers and sparrows trying to draw us away from their nests. 

            On the return trip to the car, I carry Aki over awkward sections of the trail. She acts surprised at first but then stops and waits to be picked up each time the trail is complicated by exposed tree roots and mud.

Wicked Wind

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Aki is a hot dog. Not the kind you eat, the kind that pants to keep from overheating. The temperature would be considered moderate in places beneath the 49th parallel. But it is making us miserable. Hoping to find cooler temperatures on North Douglas Island, we drive out to the Rainforest Trail.

            A strong north wind rattles the car as we approach the trailhead. It raises three foot surf that slams the beach at False Outer Point. The waves release salt that flavors the air, mixing with the odor of spruce resin. 

            The wind can’t reach deep into the forest, which swarms with mosquitoes. They seemed too confused to bite. Closer to the beach, the strong breeze bends devil’s club and blue berry plants. On the beach, Aki keeps plants and driftwood between her and the wind. I wish I had brought a warmer shirt. The wind seems to have swept the beach clean of birds. The resident sparrows must be sheltering in the tall grass. 

It Was Only a Little Bear

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“Aki come back here.” The little dog ignores her person’s warning and continues charging the bear. It’s a little bear, born last year, just out on its own. The bear was sniffing around our wheelie bin when Aki charged. If we are going to see a bear in our neighborhood this time of year, it will be on garbage day. The little bear lopes over to our neighbor’s yard where it shelters behind a kayak. For a few seconds the poodle is well within the bear’s reach. With one swipe, the bear could cancel out Aki’s day, if not her life. But it just gives the poodle-mix a puzzled look and walks behind our neighbor’s house. Aki trots back to her people so we can drive out to the wetlands’ trail.

            Wild iris, paintbrush, lupine, shooting stars, and buttercups provide little islands of color on the green grassy plain. If that weren’t proof that we are in high summer, the height of the grass would confirm it. The grass forms a thick jungle for Aki to explore. Her humans break trail for her so she has plenty of energy when we return to a well-used gravel trail.

            A Savannah sparrow moves in a parallel course while we walk toward the Mendenhall River. It flits ahead a few meters and then lands on a stem of grass, driftwood log, or lupine, holding station until it can confirm our heading. Then it launches itself down the trail to its next observation post. Even though it gives me fierce looks, I can’t imagine what the sparrow would do if I left the path. Maybe it’s a one-bird honor guard, rather than a cop ready to call in back up if the poodle gets out of hand. 

Annihilator

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The waters of Sheep Creek look empty this morning. In a week or two, pink or chum salmon fight here for spawning space. Eagles and gulls will watch from the beach or while perched in nearby trees. Aki won’t be able to hear me over the sounds of gull shrieks. Now she can hear a whisper. 

            At the edge of the creek delta, fishermen stand where we have sometimes seen herons. They try to catch king salmon moving up Gastineau Channel to the hatchery. But the main pulse of kings is already queuing up at the foot of the hatchery fish ladder.

            The little dog and I walk down the beach along a dune covered with tall, thick grass. Except for patches of yellow paintbrush flowers, the scene is green. Just offshore the fishing boat “Annihilator” floats at anchor. It’s a surprise that the manager of our fisheries so they will be sustainable, would allow an annihilator anyway near the fish.