Takatz Bay, Baranof Island, Southeast Alaska
The tranquil waters of Takatz Bay, on the east side of Baranof Island, provided a marked contrast to the hyperactivity of humpback whales lunging through schools of fish amid hordes of kittiwakes that we experienced last night in Icy Straits. Here the receding glaciers left behind a fjord with steep walls that are now clad in a cloak of Sitka spruce, Western hemlock, and Alaska cedar, the trees draped with epiphytic moss and witch’s hair lichen. We explored inner Takatz Bay by kayak and by Zodiac, pausing at waterfalls fed by snow-fields far above. At the head of the bay a stream – or really a small river – descends from the mountains. We could easily imagine it in a month or so filled with salmon returning to spawn, bringing nutrients from the sea to the land. Bears will visit the stream to feed on the salmon. In so doing they will distribute nutrients from the spawning streams into the forest, and so enhance its productivity. Thus, the sea and the land, the salmon, the bear, eagle, and raven, the salmonberry and hemlock are all linked. No doubt the female common merganser seen above owes her success, in part, to this cycle. We counted fifteen young ducklings (or are they merganserlings?) in a row, a lucky few riding on the mother’s back, the rest paddling furiously to keep up.
We departed Takatz Bay for Chatham Strait, between Baranof and Admiralty Islands. Our plans for the afternoon were quickly altered when we encountered more humpback whales. Here, where they were feeding on krill (how did we know that???), their behavior was quite different from the fish-eating whales that we watched last night. Again and again, singly and in pairs, they descended into the sea, with multiple cameras timing the exact moment when the flukes were thrown into the air. The whooosh of whale-breath could be heard all around us. Occasionally, for reasons known only to the whales, feeding was interrupted by bouts of vigorous tail-lobbing, waving of long pectoral fins, and even occasional breaching. Images were recorded on film, in pixels, and, most importantly, in the great data bank of our minds, images of Alaska, the Great Land.
The tranquil waters of Takatz Bay, on the east side of Baranof Island, provided a marked contrast to the hyperactivity of humpback whales lunging through schools of fish amid hordes of kittiwakes that we experienced last night in Icy Straits. Here the receding glaciers left behind a fjord with steep walls that are now clad in a cloak of Sitka spruce, Western hemlock, and Alaska cedar, the trees draped with epiphytic moss and witch’s hair lichen. We explored inner Takatz Bay by kayak and by Zodiac, pausing at waterfalls fed by snow-fields far above. At the head of the bay a stream – or really a small river – descends from the mountains. We could easily imagine it in a month or so filled with salmon returning to spawn, bringing nutrients from the sea to the land. Bears will visit the stream to feed on the salmon. In so doing they will distribute nutrients from the spawning streams into the forest, and so enhance its productivity. Thus, the sea and the land, the salmon, the bear, eagle, and raven, the salmonberry and hemlock are all linked. No doubt the female common merganser seen above owes her success, in part, to this cycle. We counted fifteen young ducklings (or are they merganserlings?) in a row, a lucky few riding on the mother’s back, the rest paddling furiously to keep up.
We departed Takatz Bay for Chatham Strait, between Baranof and Admiralty Islands. Our plans for the afternoon were quickly altered when we encountered more humpback whales. Here, where they were feeding on krill (how did we know that???), their behavior was quite different from the fish-eating whales that we watched last night. Again and again, singly and in pairs, they descended into the sea, with multiple cameras timing the exact moment when the flukes were thrown into the air. The whooosh of whale-breath could be heard all around us. Occasionally, for reasons known only to the whales, feeding was interrupted by bouts of vigorous tail-lobbing, waving of long pectoral fins, and even occasional breaching. Images were recorded on film, in pixels, and, most importantly, in the great data bank of our minds, images of Alaska, the Great Land.
