Pavlof Harbor and Chatham Strait
It has always been odd to me that bears and pigs share the same gender descriptions: sows and boars. Yet, when it comes to their young, the distantly related mammals finally have some specificity: piglets versus cubs. Today we stretched our descriptors to the point of breaking while watching a coastal brown bear sow and her two rambunctious cubs tramping through the intertidal on an incoming tide. In diffuse morning light we photographed shovel-clawed ursines pouncing on hapless pink salmon attempting their penultimate task of swimming upstream towards a terminal leap. The sound of hunched backs cutting through the water or rapid slashing of tails against the oncoming flow caused bear ears to perk up and eyes to focus. Death at the tips of their fins, the inevitable shock of a shortened tail stroke spoke volumes in the dying and the swimming dead. Like zombie fish, tattered pink salmon swam in unnatural poses yet still beat against the unstoppable river. Dedication knows no bounds. The body will cannibalize itself before failure is accepted. Many life paths were ended today during the body breakdown and canine-equipped onslaught of pink salmon, but with each death the forest becomes fertilized with nutrients harnessed from the Gulf of Alaska and the marine ecosystem blooms with productivity.
During the afternoon we bucked the oncoming south wind towards Peril Strait and were happily interrupted by northbound killer whales. With calves rolling in the wind-tossed waves and the group thoroughly ignored by both seals and humpback whales, it appeared these were the salmon-eating, resident type of killer whales. Traveling local waters in search of their fishy quarry, these giant dolphins are intimately tied to the ebb and flow of the seasonal salmon migration. Without the fish-shaped energy packets brought in on scaly tides the most amazing predator on the planet would not persist in Southeast Alaska. Standing on the windy bow, we marveled at the contained beauty of a male killer whale’s power. How does an animal like this persist in the Anthropocene Age? What can we do to help these animals? Do they even need our help? What does the future hold for the Great Salmon Bear Rainforest?
It would be silly for us to think we’re removed from such a beautiful system, and after watching the wildlife of Southeast Alaska for a week of exploration, we’ll forever be tied to the salmon. Despite all thoughts to the contrary, we are all players in the game. Our influence will live on longer than our presence.
