Sitka Nature

A couple of weeks ago while walking through Totem Park on a typically fall cool overcast day, something odd caught my eye near the northwest edge of the younger second growth stand on the south side of the river just up from the estuary meadow. It was a pale form with a streak of orange color lying about 10 paces off the trail along a very minor side path, not even really enough to qualify as a game trail. I mentioned to Connor that I had seen something, and though he didn’t see it, he decided to investigate more closely. I waited at the trail while he made his way through the mostly leafless salmonberry bushes that lined the main trail where we were.

It took him a few moments to spot it, and when he told me it was part of a duck, I went over to look it over more closely with him. I have seen dead birds before, but not like this. All we could see was the lower half of a Mallard, feet, but no wings. The bird had been separated in a relatively clean manner, I didn’t really look like it had been ripped apart, in any case. We did not look too closely, but there were not other obvious signs of damage on the remains we could see. The bird also seemed relatively fresh, though given the cool fall temperatures, I wouldn’t necessarily expect it to rot quickly.

Save for a single feather that probably came off the main part we found, there were no other pieces of duck that we could find in the nearby area. It’s hard to imagine what scenario might have led to half a duck on the ground where we found it. Actually, it is mostly hard to imagine how the duck got separated from itself. The most plausible scenario I can come up with is that a human did it. Once cut in half, it is not too hard to come up with ways it might have ended up where we found it. Eagles sometimes drop food when being chased and are not able to find it again. Another possibility is that one of the many dogs that get walked in the park one could have found it along the river and moved it up into the woods.

While walking at the park yesterday morning, Connor and I noticed this fog/mist hanging over the river. Connor thought it was from the stink of the dying salmon, since he had apparently previously seen it on the flume when salmon were dying in it. I’m not convinced that’s what it is from, though I guess it might be related to the fish in the stream (I don’t really remember whether I’ve seen it when there aren’t salmon in the river).

Connor, Rowan and I took a walk around the park this evening not too long after high tide. Connor and Rowan had taken the path through the woods to skip ahead of me while I completed the circuit aound the shoreline from the river mouth to the Visitor’s Center.

I was walking past the first opening to the trail (as you come from the Visitor’s Center), perhaps a little lost in thought and paying more attention to what Connor and Rowan were doing down the beach than to what was in front of me. I’m not sure why I had more or less decided there wouldn’t be much else to see, though it seems that is what had happened. The sudden movement on the beach in front of me jerked my attention back to where I was, and I saw a 5 Least Sandpipers that had been moved to action by my approach.

The birds had all been in the seaweed piled up at the high tide line, but two of them had flown a dozen feet or so down from there. Initially I paid more attention to the birds still in the seaweed, and while I did, the other two settled down and stopped moving. It’s always interesting to me how easily a shorebird, especially one as small as a Least Sandpiper, can seem to disappear just by standing still. In this case, I brought my attention back toward locating the two that were down on the fine gravel and sparsely strewn seaweed.

I took a couple of steps toward where I knew they were before I was able to spot them. Just as I did, they flushed and before they could get more than a couple of inches off the ground, one of them was plucked out of the air by a diving raptor. I was close enough to hear clearly the sharp whoosh of air over feathers, as the small raptor grabbed for the sandpiper and abruptly changed course to avoid crashing into the beach. It was all so sudden and close that it startled me a bit; it felt almost like my heart skipped a beat. I watched as the bird quickly flew down the shoreline toward the Visitor’s Center where I lost sight of it after it looped behind some trees. I did not see the bird well, but based on the size and shape, I’m reasonably confident it was a Merlin. (Falcon-like wings, but seeming too small for a Peregrine, and too dark and large for a Kestrel.)

I suspect the Merlin had been waiting in the trees and then took advantage of the distraction I created and went after the sandpipers. In hindsight, the two may have been flushing because of the predator rather than me, but if so, they were a bit too slow (one of them was), anyway.

As I continued my walk down the beach, I came upon two additional Least Sandpipers that seemed very disinclined to move. It’s been my experience in the past that Least Sandpipers will allow for a fairly close approach with some patience, but I basically walked right up to these, not really noticing them until they took a few steps. When I realized they were not going to move unless I really forced the issue, I decided to use the opportunity to take some pictures.

I was able to get within about 6 feet of the bird pictured here, and that was with only minimal effort at being slow/stealthy on my part. Although it was 20 or 30 yards down the shoreline, I suspect the two birds were well aware of what had happened only a few minutes earlier and were being extra wary about revealing their presence to any would-be predators. As I was taking pictures of the sandpiper it was frequently tilt its head up to look towards the trees (as shown in the photo below).

While taking a shortcut through the park yesterday, Connor and I happened upon four piles of Varied Thrush feathers like the one seen here. I could not decide how many kills the feather piles represented, but I’m pretty sure it was more than one and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was less than four. Most were dominated by body feathers, and a couple had flight feathers as well. Given the still fluffy nature of the body feathers and the fact that they were still fairly well contained despite a significant blow Friday night and Saturday, I suspect they were relatively fresh. However, I’m not absolutely sure because I do not know whether the wind would have blown through that exact area in such a way to spread the feathers, nor do I know how long body feathers stay fluffy in snow and rain.

Another question is how far apart the kills were made (assuming there were in fact more than one). The piles did have varying amounts of body feathers, but I am not sure whether that might have been due to moving during plucking, or if the wind might have blown some away on the older kills.

As for what made the kills, I am suspecting an owl, probably a Western Screech Owl, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it were a Sharp-shinned Hawk or Northern Goshawk. I’ve heard that owls will usually eat the bird whole, while hawks will leave parts such as the wings, head, and feet. I did not see any parts, so this might suggest an owl was responsible. I suppose it’s possible that a screech owl has a nest in the area and was getting food to feed its mate.