Alaska State Trooper Sergeant Dan Patterson flies to a remote area of Kodiak Island to investigate the massacre of eight people at a small lodge, and he encounters the worst murder scene he has ever investigated. How did someone kill eight individuals in the middle of the wilderness and then disappear?
Patterson takes a hard look at those closest to the lodge owners. Did Brian or Deb Bartlett murder their parents and the six guests at the lodge? Was the killer the neighbor who lived a few miles away or someone else in this sparsely populated bay?
Each time Patterson picks up a lead, new evidence shifts the course of the investigation. Meanwhile, the killer strikes again, murdering one of Patterson’s main suspects, and Patterson knows he must stop the monster before more people die.
Grab your copy of Massacre at Bear Creek Lodge, now
Sea cucumbers are some of the strangest-looking organisms on the beach. They might have the shape of a cucumber, but that is where the resemblance ends. At first glance, a sea cucumber looks like a plant, but it is an animal. As I mentioned in my last post, they are echinoderms related to sea stars, sea urchins, and sand dollars.
There are more than 1,250 species of sea cucumbers, and they occupy nearly every marine habitat worldwide.They range in size from one to two inches (2.5 to 5 cm.) to 10 ft. (3 meters). Most species reach a maximum length of between four to twelve inches (10 to 30 cm). Most, but not all, sea cucumbers have a cylindrical shape with protruding tube feet covering their bodies. All sea cucumbers live in the ocean, but some live in the. shallows, while others inhabit the deep ocean floor. They are benthic animals, meaning that they are bottom dwellers at whatever depth they live.
Sea cucumbers feed on algae, tiny aquatic animals, or waste particles. They gather their food with the eight to thirty tube feet surrounding their mouth.
When threatened by a predator, some species of sea cucumbers can discharge sticky threads to ensnare their attacker. Other species violently contract their muscles and propel their toxic organs from their bodies toward their attackers. They can quickly regenerate the missing organs. Sea cucumbers can also expose skeletal hooklike structures, making it more difficult for a predator to eat them.
While sea cucumbers can reproduce asexually, sexual reproduction is more common. They are broadcast spawners and gather in groups to release their eggs and sperm into the water simultaneously. When the eggs and sperm happen to meet, fertilization occurs. Sea cucumbers have a life span of five to ten years.
A sizeable culinary market for sea cucumbers exists in Asia, where certain species are considered a delicacy. The giant red cucumber is harvested in Alaska. Red sea cucumbers are found in many nearshore areas from Baja California, north and west to the Gulf of Alaska. Alaska’s largest sea cucumber fishery occurs in Southeast Alaska, with smaller fisheries near Kodiak and Chignik. Scuba divers commercially harvest cucumbers and then deliver eviscerated but live animals to shore-based processors. The cucumbers are processed by separating the five longitudinal muscle bundles from the skin with a scraper or a knife. The processor then boils the skin and dries it into a product called trepang or beche de mer. The processor freezes the longitudinal muscles and markets the dried skin and frozen muscles locally in the U.S. and Asia.
In early October, we often see sea cucumber harvesters diving for animals near our lodge. I often think they have a tough job jumping into the frigid ocean, searching for a small sluggish animal on the ocean floor.
Watch short videos about books by Alaskan authors — including my soon-to-be-released Alaska wilderness novel Massacre at Bear Creek Lodge. Follow the link. All About Alaska Through Books – BINGE Networks
Happy Holidays. This post is long overdue, and I apologize. I try to do too many things, and some fall by the wayside. I began writing my blog post several years ago, long before I started a newsletter, a podcast, or any of the many other writing projects I tackle. My wildlife posts aren’t long, but they require time to research and write. I know people see them, but I don’t receive much feedback, so I often feel I’m writing in a vacuum. On the other hand, people do respond to my newsletters and podcast. I sell books through my newsletter and podcast, so I tend to concentrate my effort on those two projects. I do not intend to walk away from my blog, though. I want to post every other week, but I think once a month might be a more attainable goal. In any case, I am sorry I have been absent lately.
I hope that you are safe and healthy. It has been a rough two years, and I know we are all ready for things to return to normal (whatever normal is). I know many places in the U.S. had an unseasonably warm fall, but ours here on Kodiak Island was bitterly cold and stormy. It warmed up a few days ago, but we’ve had to deal with one storm after another.
Due to all the nasty weather, I’ve stayed indoors and spent as much time as possible writing. My fifth novel is in the hands of my publisher, and I am now concentrating on my next book. It will be a true-crime book containing several of the Alaska murder and mystery pieces I’ve written for my newsletter. I have decided to group the stories by regions of the state to take the reader on a tour of Alaska. This tour allows me to showcase differences in geography, average temperatures, cultures, and environments around the state. I can also stress distinctions between police-response times from one region to another. Authorities usually respond to a crime in a matter of minutes in Anchorage or Fairbanks, but in a small, remote village, troopers might not arrive for a day or two after the crime occurs.
Although I’ve already written the stories for my true-crime book, I still need to spend a great deal of time editing each story. Then, I will send the text to an editor. I hope to release this book sometime in 2022, but the process always takes longer than I think it should. For a break from the tediousness of editing, I hope to start writing my next novel while working on the true-crime book. I have a rough outline of the story in my head, but I haven’t put it together yet.
My podcast and newsletter audiences are growing at a steady pace. I started a Patreon group called The Last Frontier Club, and it is a way for people to support my podcast and newsletter. In return, I do one or two short podcasts every month that only my patrons can access. I appreciate my patrons and use their contributions to pay for my podcast and author websites, the charges for digging through newspaper archives online, advertising, and the many other memberships a writer and podcaster must join — such as Headliner, Vimeo, Canva, etc.
As you might guess, my New Year’s Resolution is to write more blog posts (and eat less). I promise to be back soon with my next wildlife post, and I will keep you updated with the progress of my latest novel as it moves through the publishing process.
I wish you a wonderful 2022, and I hope by this time next year, we all feel safe in public without wearing a mask.
Echinoderms are my favorite intertidal animals. They belong to the phylum Echinodermata and live only in marine environments. You won’t find an echinoderm in a river or stream. Their name originates from the Greek word for spiny skin, and all echinoderms have either a hard spiny covering or spiny skin.
What is an echinoderm? While there are around 7,000 species of echinoderms, they fall into seven major classes. These are the sea lilies, sea urchins, sand dollars, sea cucumbers, brittle stars and basket stars, sea daisies, and sea stars – or starfish. Echinoderms live in every marine habitat from the intertidal zone to the deep ocean. They are often brightly colored, and their reds, greens, purples, and oranges make them stand out against the monochromatic background of clam and cockle shells.
Sea Cucumber
Some species of echinoderms do not look as if they should belong to this phylum. A sea urchin does not resemble a sea star, and sea cucumbers look nothing like other echinoderms. Body types range from flowerlike sea lilies to slug-shaped sea cucumbers. However, in addition to the spines, all echinoderms have pentamerous (five-part) radial symmetry, an internal skeleton, and a water-vascular system derived from a central cavity. Look at a sand dollar the next time you pick up one and note the star in the center of the disk and the five-part symmetry. Examine a dead sea urchin once its spines have dropped, and you will see the five plates. If you dissect a sea cucumber, the pentamerous symmetry reveals itself. Some sea stars have many legs, but look closely, and you will see the five-part divisions.
Sand Dollars
An echinoderm has a simple digestive system with a mouth, stomach, intestines, and anus. In many species, the mouth is on the underneath side of the animal, and the anus is on the top. A sea stars can push its stomach through its mouth, allowing it to digest its prey externally. For example, it can insert its stomach into a clam shell once its powerful legs have pried open the shell. The ability to extrude its stomach allows a sea star to eat animals larger than its mouth.
While echinoderms do not have brains, they do have nervous systems. They have tiny eyespots that can detect only light and dark, and some of their tube feet are sensitive to chemicals, allowing them to find food. They do not have a heart, but they have a network of fluid-filled canals. To breathe, they use simple gills, and their tube feet take in oxygen and pass out carbon dioxide.
Sea Star
Echinoderms are either male or female, and they reach sexual maturity when they are two to three years old. Most species broadcast spawn by releasing their eggs and sperm into the water at the same time. A sperm meets up with an egg by chance and fertilizes it. This type of reproduction is hit or miss, but a female releases as many as one hundred million eggs at one time, improving the chances of some being fertilized. Larvae float free for a period and eventually settle to the bottom and develop into their adult form.
Lifestyles of the different groups of echinoderms vary greatly, and over the next few posts, I will take a closer look at some of the species found in Alaska.
Do you refer to the sleek black and white animal pictured above as a killer whale or an orca? Of course, a killer whale is not a whale but is the largest member of the dolphin family, but let’s set aside that fact. What you call these marine mammals may depend on your experience with them. If you’ve watched them perform at a marine park, then the name “orca” fits their apparent playful, intelligent demeanor. If you’ve observed them in the wild, then “killer whale” might be a more apt moniker.
We are in the middle of our summer wildlife-viewing and sportfishing trips at our lodge here on Kodiak, and over the last few weeks, we’ve had several encounters with killer whales. One day, they breached, spy hopped, and slapped the water while we watched with delight. They were orcas that day.
Another morning, we had a very different experience. Soon after we left our mooring, we encountered a bull and a cow orca, and we watched and photographed the killer whales for a while, trying to get the perfect shot of the male with his large, majesti
c dorsal fin. Then, we realized the horrific scene playing out in front of us.
Killer whale eating minke tail
The killer whales slowly maimed, tortured, and ate a minke whale while we watched. They first ate the whale’s tail, probably so it couldn’t escape. The poor minke continued to attempt to swim while the orcas followed it, ripping pieces out of it as the whale slowly died. While we watched the killer whales toy with the dying minke, we did not doubt we were watching “killer whales,” not “orcas. They behaved as the apex predators they are, but to us, their actions seemed cruel. Later, when I thought about the incident, I wondered if the killer whales left the minke alive, so it wouldn’t sink, and they could more easily consume it at the surface. Perhaps their actions were practical and not cruel. To those of us watching the saga, it seemed that the whales enjoyed taunting their prey and reveled in watching it suffer.
Male killer whale following maimed minke whale
Our recent encounters with these beautiful, large dolphins have again made me question what we should call them. Where they sit at the top of the food chain, I think they would prefer the name “killer whales.” The title makes them sound majestic and fierce.
Killer whales have strong jaws and up to 52 interlocking teeth. Their powerful tail fluke can stun or kill prey by slapping the water at speeds as high as (52 km per hour). They often feed in groups and can communicate with each other with sonar and by other means. Observers recently reported 50 orcas stalking a blue whale, the largest of all whales.
In the 1970s, marine parks such as Sea World began capturing orcas and training them to do tricks for public shows. People watched these shows and thought the whales were cute and lovable. Many believed they did not deserve the name “killer whale” and began calling the animals “orcas.”
Killer whale attacking minke
I tend to use both names, just as I have in this post, but it does this majestic animal a disservice to consider it docile and cute. Killer whales are very intelligent, and they are also the top predators in the ocean. They eat sharks, whales, dolphins, fish, seals, sea otters, octopuses, squid, and anything else they want to eat. They deserve our respect, and to watch them in the wild is a rare treat. I know the image of the large bull chewing on the live minke whale will stay with me for the rest of my life. I might never again call a killer whale an orca.
Kodiak is synonymous with giant bears, king crabs, and weathervane scallops. The weathervane, also known as the giant Pacific scallop, is the largest scallop in the world. Its beautiful orange shell makes it a treasure for beachcombers, and gourmet chefs prize its large adductor muscle for its taste and texture.
Weathervanes range from California to the Bering Sea and west to the Aleutian Islands. They prefer a mud, sand, or gravel substrate and live anywhere from the intertidal zone to depths of 984 ft. (300 m). They are more common in the deeper parts of their range. Adult scallops form dense, oblong beds that parallel the current.
The round valves of a weathervane can grow to 11.8 inches (30 cm) in diameter, and they differ slightly in color, ribbing, and shape. The upper valve appears reddish-pink and has approximately ten primary ribs alternating with smaller ribs. The bottom valve is lighter in color and has about twenty primary ribs separated by several smaller ribs. The top valve of a weathervane is relatively flat, and the organism rests on the rounder bottom valve.
Unlike most other bivalves, such as clams and mussels, scallops cannot burrow into the substrate to escape predation. Instead, they detect predators with their primitive “eyes” located on the front of their bodies, just inside the shell opening. These eyespots can detect movement, even in the dark depths where the scallops live. When a scallop detects a predator, it swims away from danger by rapidly opening and closing its shell. This movement requires a large adductor, or hinge, muscle. Processors remove this hinge muscle from the shell and market it as a “scallop.” They then dispose of the rest of the animal.
Scallops are either male or female, but gonad color is the only way to distinguish the sexes. Female gonads range in color from orange to red, while a male has creamy white gonads. Weathervanes become sexually mature when they are three to four years old and have a shell height of three inches. Scallops are broadcast spawners and reproduce by gathering in a large group and releasing clouds of eggs and sperm. When a sperm encounters an egg, it fertilizes it in the water column. Biologists think the increasing water temperature in May and June induces the scallops to spawn.
Fertilized scallop eggs sink to the bottom, where they remain for a few days until they develop into tiny larvae. The larvae swim and feed in the water column for a few weeks before sinking to the bottom and transforming into a benthic, filter-feeding scallop. Weathervane scallops can live for 28 years. Primary threats to weathervanes include predation by crabs, sea stars, and octopuses, diseases, habitat damage, and ocean acidification.
Consumers consider scallops a delicacy, and the commercial demand is high. Fishers use dredges to harvest scallops, though, and dredges can severely impact benthic organisms and their habitat. Concerns regarding the effects of dredging have prompted the Alaska Board of Fisheries to enact extensive closures of the scallop fishery and tightly regulate the scallop harvest. The commercial fleet of weathervane harvesters in Alaska is small, with a handful of vessels located in Kodiak. These boats dredge from beds located fifty to one-hundred meters deep, but their bounty does not meet commercial needs.
In the late 1980s, my husband and I volunteered to join an experimental mariculture venture for weathervane scallops sponsored by the Japanese government and several U.S. agencies, including the Alaska Department of Fish and Game. We suspended cages covered with fine mesh in the ocean and collected scallop larvae, as well as the larvae of several other invertebrate species. We then began growing the scallops to a marketable size. We didn’t gather many weathervanes, but we learned where to place the cages to collect the most scallop larvae. Unfortunately, the scallop project ended abruptly in 1989 when the Exxon Valdez oil spill occurred, and state and federal agencies focused their attention on cleaning up the oil and assessing the damage caused by the spill.
More than thirty years later, scientists still have not given up on raising scallops in a mariculture setting, but first, they realize they need to fill the gaps in their knowledge about weathervane biology. Researchers do not know how to determine the age of a weathervane properly, how fast they grow, or how abundant they are in Alaska’s waters. Biologists are also not sure about when weathervanes spawn or if they spawn several times a year. Once researchers can answer some of these questions, they hope to successfully induce weathervanes to grow and reproduce in captivity and make them a viable species to raise in a mariculture operation. Biologists think that farm-raised scallops and wild-caught weathervanes will someday complement each other in the worldwide marketplace.
When I reach the end of a manuscript, I dread writing the conclusion because a conclusion requires a great deal of thought and effort. Just as we were nearly done polishing my non-fiction book, Kodiak Island Wildlife, the editor said he believed the book needed a conclusion, and I groaned, but I also agreed with him.
I don’t know how long I stared at a blank computer screen, but I could think of nothing to write. How do you sum up a book about wildlife? Then, as I stood on our boat one morning, watching giant fin whales with our guests, the conclusion for my book popped into my mind, fully formed. When I read it to my husband, tears came to my eyes, and I knew I had done my best work. My editor agreed, and he said it was the perfect ending. The following is the conclusion for my recently released book, Kodiak Island Wildlife.
Emerald cliffs plunge into the gray ocean, and only a slight breeze stirs the surface of the water. In front of our boat, three huge fin whales feed, frequently surfacing to breathe. Their exhalations sound like cannon shots, and our guests capture every moment with their cameras. A sea otter bobs placidly a short distance from our boat, and a bald eagle circles overhead. I have seen all of this many times, but still, it takes my breath away, and a chuckle escapes my lips. How have I managed to live my life in one of the most beautiful places on the planet? To me, Kodiak is paradise. Sure, the weather here throws frequent tantrums, and mistakes in the hostile wilderness do not go unpunished, but I have found nowhere else I would rather live.
One of my greatest joys is to guide visitors into the Kodiak wilderness. I love the look on a newcomer’s face the first time she sees a Kodiak bear or watches a sea otter eat a crab. I wrote this book to honor the wild animals we’ve watched over the years and to thank the many folks who have visited our lodge. I know they would tell you that Kodiak is a special place. The island is mysterious and magical.
It is a short conclusion, but it sums up how I feel and accurately describes my motivations for writing the book. I am grateful for the many experiences I’ve enjoyed. My life is an adventure filled with wonder in the Kodiak wilderness, and I can’t imagine living anywhere else.
Speaking of wildlife, I hope to return to regular and more frequent posts soon. The past two months have been hectic. I’m writing this while I sit on our boat. We are cruising 100 miles around Kodiak Island from our lodge to the town of Kodiak, where we will have our boat lifted out of the water so that we can clean and paint the bottom. As soon as we return home, we have endless jobs awaiting us before our summer season begins. Meanwhile, I am trying to promote my new book and keep up with my scheduled newsletters and podcasts. I realize I’ve let my blog posts fall through the cracks, and I vow to make my posts more of a priority in the future. Thank you for your patience.
I am thrilled to announce the release of my non-fiction book, Kodiak Island Wildlife. Learn about rugged, beautiful Kodiak Island and its amazing wildlife. Read about new and recent research on the animals on and near the Kodiak Archipelago, and enjoy the beautiful photographs by my husband, Mike Munsey.
Watch the trailer for more information about this book.
The aptly named big skate (Raja binoculata) is the largest skate in the waters off North America. Big skates range along the Pacific coast from Alaska to Baja California. They inhabit a variety of habitats, from bays and estuaries to the continental shelf. They prefer sandy or muddy bottoms and seem to prefer depths shallower than 390 ft. (120 m). They inhabit shallower water in the northern part of their range.
The largest big skate ever captured measured 7.9 ft. (2.4 m) in length, but they typically reach a maximum of 5.9 ft. (1.8 m) in length and weigh as much as 201 lbs. (91 kg). An average big skate weighs less than 110 lbs. (50 kg).
Dorsal Surface
A big skate has a diamond-shaped, flattened pectoral fin disk. It has a pointed snout, and the eyes are small and sit just ahead of the spiracles. The tail has two small dorsal fins but no anal fin, and the caudal fin is only a simple fold. A juvenile has smooth skin, but an adult’s skin has small prickles on the dorsal surface, the underside of the snout, between the gill slits, and on the abdominal region. An irregular row of approximately 33 middorsal thorns runs down the back and tail to the first dorsal fin. A single thorn protrudes from behind each eye. The back of a big skate ranges in color from mottled reddish-brown to olive-brown to grey, and it is covered with small, pale white spots or dark blotches. The ventral surface ranges from white to gray.
Ventral Surface
A large dark spot with pale borders appears on each wing of a big skate, and biologists suspect these “eyespots” appear to predators as the eyes of a much larger animal, making a shark or another predator much less likely to attack the skate.
A big skate camouflages itself by partially burying its body in the sand and silt on the seafloor. Between its submerged position and its mottled coloration, a skate appears nearly invisible to predators and prey. When partially buried, it breathes with the aid of the spiracles on the top of its body. It takes water in through these spiracles and pushes it out through the gills on its dorsal surface.
Big skates differ from Alaska skates in that their egg cases may contain as many as seven eggs each. The big skate produces the largest egg case of any skate species, measuring 9 to 12 inches (23-31 cm) long and 4 to 7 inches (11-19 cm) wide. Big skates have a maximum lifespan of 26 years, but most big skates in Alaska don’t live past 15.
Skates are mysterious creatures, and scientists still know little about them. We often catch skates when we sportfish for halibut. The angler usually thinks he has a halibut when the heavy fish hits the lure, but we soon know it’s a skate when the animal exerts long, steady pulls instead of the head-jerking motions of a halibut.
“What is it?” The angler asks when he reels the strange creature up to the side of the boat.
“It’s a skate,” I say.
“What’s a skate? Is it like a stingray?” He asks.
“It’s related,” I reply, “but skates and rays belong to different families.”
Skates in the family Rajidae differ from rays in the family Myliobatidae mainly because skates lay eggs, while rays give birth to live young. Both skates and rays are cartilaginous fish (they have no bones) and are related to sharks.
Biologists have identified 14 species of skates in Alaska, and eight of these species are considered common in the Gulf of Alaska and the Bering Sea. Two of the most abundant species in Kodiak Island’s waters are the Alaska Skate and the Big Skate.
The Alaska Skate ranges from the Gulf of Alaska to the Bering Sea and the Aleutian Islands and west to Japan. They live at depths from 56 to 1286 ft. (17-392 m) and prefer soft bottoms of sand, silt, or mud. They grow to 53 inches (135 cm) in length.
Alaska skates are long-lived and do not reach sexual maturity until they are ten years old. A female lays 20 to 40 eggs per year, and each egg is enclosed in a tough case to protect the embryo as it grows. Since a female skate has dual uteri and shell glands, she can form two single encased embryos at a time. The embryo grows for an average of 3.7 years before it emerges from its case as a fully developed young skate. In certain areas, skate egg cases litter the ocean floor, and beachcombers who find them on the shore call them mermaids’ purses or devils’ purses. Biologists have identified several skate nursery areas in Alaska’s waters. Some of these nursery areas have egg densities of over 100,000 eggs per square kilometer.
Alaska Skate Egg Case
A skate’s exceptionally long gestation period and its prolonged maturation until it can reproduce concern biologists. Skate populations are potentially fragile, and if targeted by commercial or sport fisheries, they could easily be overfished. Once considered a trash fish, skate wing is now presented as gourmet food in some regions. The Monterey Bay Aquarium lists skate as seafood to avoid because several North Atlantic species are now in decline from overfishing.
Juvenile Alaska skates eat mainly crustaceans such as amphipods and hermit crabs. As they grow, they begin to eat fish. While enclosed in their tough egg casing, skates remain protected from most predators, but hairy triton snails can prey upon a developing embryo by drilling through the case. Once they hatch, young skates are vulnerable to predation by any larger fish. Steller sea lions and other sea mammals sometimes feed on adult skates.
In my next post, I will profile the big skate, the largest species of skate in the waters off of North America.
