Category Archives: Kwethluk

Nature

What are We Doing Here?

Aki

What are we doing here Aki?

A stiff wind startles the little dog when she hops out of the car. The wind carries a mix of snow and rain that makes Aki blink. She turns, anyway, into the wind and follows me up the mountain meadow trail. I snap a few pictures of the meadow-side mountains, just white from the morning’s snow. But I switch to more intimate subjects on the ground to avoid having to wipe rain off the camera lens filter.

mountain

With little more than fundamental knowledge of composition, I rely on emotion to frame a shot. Today, I’m warmed by the thin sheet of new snow bending over waves of tough yellow grass. My eyes can see the energy of movement pushing against the snow like the emerging limb of an abandoned Michelangelo sculpture. The camera can ‘t capture it.

snow

I carry home the limb of a blueberry bush. It’s leaf buds swell even though it has been severed from the bush. In our kitchen we will watch the leaves fill and, if lucky, enjoy creamy blossoms, each a tiny Japanese lantern swing from the maroon twigs of the branch.

Rodent Envy

ice

I suppose it is silly to be jealous of a beaver. But I feel a little green each time Aki rolls on a beaver trail. It’s the ecstasy that shows on her face—eyes squeezed shut with pleasure, lips curling up in a contented smile. She is ecstatic today with beaver sign spread everywhere we walk on the glacial moraine. Since our last visit the beavers have been reduced to logging alder trees along Crystal Lake. They have dropped and stripped the bark off of most of the lakeside cottonwoods. Only ones with trunks protected by wire fences stand. My resentment changes to concern when I think of the hard times ahead for the big-toothed rodents.

Aki

Have You Ever Seen a Whale?

channel ducks

On wet winter days

when only pastel craftsmen homes

remind us of spring and

drenched ravens harmonize

with a barking dog

an imaginative man

finds the will

to pull on rain gear

push outdoors

ignore drizzle

soaking his sensible

if ridiculous hat.

He skips down crooked steps

like one who

might see whales in the channel

spot eagles near the moored black cod boats

just make out spring-white goats on Mt. Juneau.

He wonders on the way

what imaginatives do

in southern cities

where robins always sing

to a cloudless sky

crime and traffic

provide the drama

and no one has even seen a whale.

Monopolizing Ice

ice

We have so many of these flat light days in the rain forest. Only the sharpest eyes can ferret out patterns in the gray sky. It’s even hard to see the border of white mountain and soft sky. While Aki bounces around the still frozen mountain meadow, I look down, finding small beauties in ice. With their interesting shapes and captured light, the thin sheets of ice monopolize the drama.

ice 2

Beaver Logging

Aki 2Aki and I pass some new fallen alders along the glacial moraine trail. Large wood chips, marked by beaver teeth, surround the resulting tree stubs. We never heard or seen a beaver drop a tree until today.

beaver teethThe snow is gone but a strip of smooth ice covers the trail. I slide down it while Aki checks the peemail. She sniffs something on one of the beaver dams near Norton Lake and then starts a wide sweep of the area. When a tree crashes onto the frozen lake, the little dog flies across the ice to investigate. I grow uncomfortable waiting for her to return, thinking about what a beaver’s teeth can do to a tree trunk. But Aki dashes onto the ice before I can head over to the beaver’s logging site.

AkiAn hour later, while we circled one last lake in the troll woods and hear another tree crash. Two years ago Aki broke through this lake’s ice when we heard several beaver tail slaps. I thought I had lost her that time. Today she runs to where the tree lays on the lake ice but is back before I can worry.ice

Spring and Famine

mountain

The varied thrush told me it is spring, as did the warmish temperature, sun, and a brace of eagles circling low over Chicken Ridge. The eagles warned that it is also a time of famine for the big birds by hunting cats in the neighborhood. Aki and I headed to the Fish Creek delta to check its grassy wetlands for migrating waterfowl.

geeseThe parking lot was empty when we arrived so it was no surprise to hear the complaints of unseen ducks and geese when we approached the pond. We spot hundreds of nervous birds through a screen of trees on the pond’s edge. Some sound like geese, but not our Canada residents. Even though I am hundreds of meters away, the birds explode into the air when I start taking pictures. In minutes they are gone.

Mt. JuneauAs punishment for displacing the birds, I find the glacier hidden behind clouds. Maybe it is not punishment. The clouds reveal enough of the ice field mountains to create beautiful reflections in the waters of Smuggler’s Cove.

 

Auras

aki

This morning Aki again exhibits her fascination with land otters. I just stopped trying to ski on a mostly bare meadow normally covered with deep snow this time of year. Now, I’m walking into the otter country. Aki is ahead, already on thinning stream ice, nose now, tail up, temporarily deaf to my command to return.

Aki 2

This is not a life or death situation but I am still worried. If she brakes through the ice, I can rescue her. But, what if she noses into one of their den doors? She does look lovely in the early morning sun, which highlights the edges of her fur, covering her with an aura of light. The sun does the same thing and a little more to the streamside willows and alders. They glow and sparkle.

willowGiving up, I turn and walk toward the big beaver house neared their ruined dam, stretching to the braking point the invisible tether that connects me to the little dog. In seconds she snaps back and walks beside me on the way to the abandoned beaver town.

cranberries

Camping Cove

 

Rock plugI tell myself to remember the way the pebbles, frozen together by last might’s freeze, slowly give way beneath my boots. Otherwise the memory of the sensation will disappear under the deluge of Technicolor images I see every time I look out to sea.

AkiAki and I walk toward Camping Cove over sunny beaches and through dappled, forested headlands. Inshore barrier islands, thick with old growth spruce and hemlock trees, frame views of Lynn Canal and the snow covered Chilkat Mountains.
blueberry

Aki flushes a grouse, her first. I watch it fly into a snag where it seems to disappear into the rough bark. Later we will hear the slow hammering sound of a woodpecker. More surprising, I hear the long tones of a varied thrush. The thrush song, heard on a sunny day, while standing on bare trail, might be the final confirmation of winter’s end. The bird might have been fooled by the swelling leaf buds on spring-green blue berry brush. We might have more ice and snow. Winter can’t be over. There is still more three weeks before the spring equinox.roots

No Enhancements

rain drops 2

Nothing enhances the natural beauty of the rain forest today. Our latest extended thaw and rain melted away all winter enhancements. We are a month away from spring flowers and bird song. Looking into the forest from the beach is like watching a movie star buying butter at the store. She walks the dairy aisle in mom jeans and a tee shirt, not the figure enhancing dresses she wears for the cameras, but her grace of movement still demands attention. Even with her face bare, the store clerk is drawn to the expression in her eyes. Likewise, the forest that Aki and I walk through this morning has the fine bone structure of old growth spruce, genuine sparkle of rain drops striking a forest pond, and a sense of peace hard to find in Hollywood.

rain drops

Showing Off

glacier

Clarity of light and a sense of ground relaxing; those are the things I appreciate this morning on the Fish Creek delta. The ground is still solid thanks the last night’s freeze but there is no wind and the temperature is climbing above 40 degrees F. Some ice covers parts of the pond but the rest of winter’s work lays scattered in sharp-sided chunks of crystal on the golden meadow’s grass.

fog Aki runs this way and that, ears flapping, chasing ghosts. I hear a splash and think of the otter that tried to coax her onto the pond ice during our last visit. Opaque fog rises from the meadows like cold smoke. The little dog gives up on a promising scent to follow me out to the creek mouth where the snow-white Mendenhall Towers seem to be showing off in the morning sun. This is what full sun exposure can do to a rain forest dweller—it can turn us anthropomorphic. It makes me want to think of God as a human mother figure because this morning of Hers has given me comfort, beauty, and peace.

pond