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.
Summer Friends at Amook Pass is a post by my friend, Marcia Messier. I love this humorous story about her animal encounters while she worked for us at Munsey’s Bear Camp. What Marcia doesn’t tell you in this piece is that I named our goat visitor Marcie because the goat’s daring trip each summer from the mountains to the ocean, reminded me of Marcia’s adventurous spirit. Prepare to smile as you read about Marcia’s adventures!
During the summer months at Amook Pass, the animals were my friends. That sounds a bit corny, but they were amusing, startling, and comforting, all that friends should be. I looked forward and anticipated who might stop by for a visit during my busy days.
House Animals
I was privileged to know Gizzy, Fletcher, Elsie, and Olive during my summers at Munsey’s Bear Camp. They were my very best animal friends. I thought it was interesting that Gizzy and Olive had similar personalities as did Fletcher and Elsie; even though, they had never met. Gizzy and Olive were the sweet ladies, soft-spoken, polite, accommodating for a photo, well groomed, and perhaps just a little bit shy of visitors. Fletcher and Elsie, on the other hand, were true wilderness cats. Fletcher was getting along in years when I first met him, but he told me many a hair-raising tale about his hunting skills as a younger gentleman. Elsie was in her prime, and she loved to stalk bears for days on end. Many a time as Robin and I were mourning her early demise, we would hear Mike yell, “Elsie’s back!”, and there she would be, dragging herself through the door, ragged, dirty and ravenously hungry after her latest adventure.
Fletcher and Elsie loved to hunt voles, the tiny mouse-like creatures close to the bottom of the Kodiak food chain. They must be a very tasty snack because twice daily I’d find their tiny blue and green left-over parts deposited on the front door step. I used to tell myself they were loving gifts, but then again, whoever left the pieces always seemed slightly amused when I reached down to pluck the bits off the doorstep while making slight gagging sounds.
Freddie the Weasel became a daily late-afternoon house guest. Maybe the sound of the old generator starting up interrupted his afternoon nap. He’d shoot in the backdoor, zip through the kitchen and take cover under the couch in the living room to watch and learn about life in the big house. At first, I jumped and shrieked thinking he must be some kind of Kodiak rat, but later in the day, Robin calmly explained about weasels.
Gizzy and Fletcher were still with us then but getting along in years. They knew their limitations, so they decided to pretend Freddie was just a figment of my over-active imagination. Not wanting to insult them, I went along with the game and soon we all looked forward to Freddie’s daily antics. I knew when he heard the boat motoring up to the mooring; I would see the tail end of Freddie flip out the front door.
Yard Animals
Early in the summer season, the female Sitka deer would bring their fawns into the yard to nibble the bright green salad-like greens growing around the cabins. Sometimes there would be twins, and I would think happy thoughts as I watched them through the kitchen window while preparing breakfast.
One day I came nose to nose with a deer! I was hurrying to the cabin with a load of fresh laundry, and we met coming around the corner at the same instant. We were both startled and just stared dumbfounded into each other’s eyes for a moment. I’m not sure who moved first, but a hunter later told me I was lucky it hadn’t given me a good kick in the shins before it bolted off! I guess that happens, but ours was a peaceful meeting, and I will forever remember that instant.
I live in Arizona, so the first time I saw a fox on the pathway, I excitedly reported to Mike I had seen a coyote in the yard that day. Laughing, he looked at me like I was nuts and said, “There are no coyotes on Kodiak Island!”. I felt a little foolish but still maintain at a distance, a big healthy Kodiak fox looks very much like a thin Arizona coyote in the summertime!
I’ve seen Bald Eagles before, but in Arizona, they are a special sighting. On Kodiak, they are commonplace, and I was thrilled to see a nesting pair close to camp. On my mid-day break, if the weather was good, I’d sit in a lawn chair facing the bay and watch the eagles fish. It was entertaining; an eagle would fly over the water and scope out a fish, and then in an amazing feet-first dive, catch the fish in its talons. After this, it was usually impossible to get airborne once again, so it had to row itself and the fish, still clutched in its talons, ashore with its wings. There, after expending so much energy, it would devour the fish and do it all over again.
More than once, on a nice day, while taking a siesta in the hammock, enjoying the warm sun on my face, I’d hear and feel the strong wing beats of a very large bird flying close over me, and I’d know I had been checked out by a Bald Eagle!
Some of you may have read my “Encounter” with a bear. I was walking along the path up to the guest cottage one afternoon, my mind far away, when I heard a “horse” snort. The sound brought me back to the present in a flash, and I must say, I have never confused the sound of a bear with that of a horse again!
A secret I’d like to reveal is Mike used to make a bear playground out of old red mooring buoys a distance up behind the generator shed. I heard him and Robin laughing once about how much fun the bears had rolling, tossing and chewing these old red buoys. I never did venture up past the generator shed and burn barrel. Wearing a red jacket, I didn’t want the bears to make a mistake. I did wonder if mother bears warned their cubs, “never go near that playground as there is a dangerous human there who makes frightening loud, smoky blasts come out of the shed and soon after makes fire leap high into the sky out of a barrel!” Thinking back, I was probably quite safe.
Marcie was my favorite yard animal. One warm July day, we spotted a solitary mountain goat strolling along the beach near camp. Mike and Robin reported this was indeed a rare sighting. We couldn’t help ourselves, Robin christened her Marcie, and we began to speculate about her life and why she was here on our beach. She was a rebel. Marcie was tired of billies, she had too many youngsters to raise, and the constant stress of all those steep icy mountain ledges was wearing her down. Maybe she had arthritis in her knees. Maybe she just wanted a vacation at the beach! We happily welcomed her, and for a number of years, she would appear for her annual July vacation at Munsey’s Bear Camp. One year she didn’t arrive. We looked and looked, but no Marcie. Right away we decided, instead of feeling sad, we would celebrate her life. We had a toast to Marcie, how brave she was to break away from the herd and dare to be different!
Sea Animals
The sea otter is a zen-like sight floating on its back, paws pressed together as if in meditation pose. It’s a sweet maternal picture with mom floating on her back and a tiny baby resting on her belly. And how clever of them to use tools! They often are observed with a rock balanced on their belly, happily cracking open clams for lunch. Brilliant!
At Munsey’s Bear Camp, I often saw sea otters floating in the cove in front of the lodge, and the sea otters kept to themselves. Their cousins the river otters, however, were a different matter. A family of river otters took up residence under the dock. This dock was now their home, and no one else was welcome. The dock became their dining room and their toilet. A mop had to be stationed on the dock so that the horrid stinky mess could be swabbed away. The mop could also be used as a defensive tool.
River Otter
With guests arriving and departing from the dock every five days, caution had to be observed. One day stands out in my mind. It was a beautiful, sunny Kodiak day, and we were all on deck welcoming new guests. As they were embarking from the float plane and luggage was being handed down, I took a step back and slid on an unseen mound of otter poo. I wanted to vaporize as I fell on my backside in an ungraceful plop! Afterward, we laughed about this incident, but I never forgot, and every time I saw a sweet little otter posing for pictures, I saw two little horns poking up through the top of its head.
I grew up near Cape Cod where everyone loved to fish. I didn’t. To me, the whole process from baiting the hook, to dragging the poor thing out of its natural habitat with a hook in its mouth, to butchering it, to stinking up the house with fried fish was cruel and disgusting. Fast forward 40 years and I’m a cook in a fishing camp. I politely listened and smiled at all the fish stories and quietly cooked the fish, wondering what all the commotion was about. One day my perception changed. Robin and Mike asked me if I’d like to go out on the boat with them for the day. We had only one guest, and it was a great day to get out of the house. Yes, I wanted to go! Like a good sport, I purchased my fishing license, and away we went. Mike anchored in a pretty cove, and as I sat down in the deck chair ready to enjoy the sunshine, Robin stuck a baited pole in my hands and showed me where to drop the line. Still not paying much attention, suddenly the pole was nearly yanked out of my hands, and the line was whizzing off the reel. “What’s going on?”, I hollered. Robin and Mike replied, “You’ve caught a fish.” They proceeded to give me instructions. Suddenly, the scenario was hilarious, like an old re-run of “I Love Lucy.” I couldn’t stop laughing which in turn made my arms weak and unable to reel in the line. In a second, Robin strapped a belt-like thing around me to support the fishing pole so that I could reel. Now we are all laughing hard, but with perseverance and aching arms, the fish finally emerged from the deep. I was leaned over the rail gasping in amazement at “my halibut” when all of sudden, Mike, with an expert jerk of his pliers, freed my fish from the hook and off it swam! Hey! At that moment I was totally conflicted. On the one hand, I proudly wanted to bring my halibut home for supper, but on the other, I wished it well and was happy it was able to live another day in Uyak Bay.
The Kodiak river otter (Lontra canadensis kodiacensis) is a sub species of the North American river otter and is found only on the Kodiak Archipelago. North American river otters range throughout much of Canada and the United States.
River otters are stocky, with short legs, webbed hind feet, a thick neck, a flattened head, small ears, and a muscular body. A strong tail that is more than one-third as long as the head and body helps propel them through the water when they swim. Adult river otters weigh 15 to 35 lbs. (6.8-15kg) and are 40 to 60 inches (102-152 cm) long. Females are usually about 25% smaller than males. An otter’s fur is black-brown in color on the legs and back fading to a slightly lighter shade on the belly. The chin and throat are gray. The fur consists of a dense undercoat and longer guard hairs. Several sets of strong whiskers sprout from beneath the nose.
A river otter is well adapted for living both on land and in the water. Its thick fur helps keep it warm when swimming in cold water, and its webbed hind feet, narrow body, and flattened head allow for streamlined movement through the water. An otter swims by paddling or vertically flexing its hindquarters and strong tail. It can swim 6 mph (9.7 km/hr) and even faster over short distances by “porpoising.” An otter can dive at least as deep as 60 ft. (18 m) and stay underwater for as long as eight minutes. On land, an otter can run up to 15 mph (24 km/hr).
River otters have well-developed senses of smell and hearing. Their vision on land is not good, but they may see better under water. An otter uses its whiskers to detect prey in murky or dark water, aid in navigation, and to avoid obstructions.
River otters can live in any water habitat, including ponds, marshes, lakes, rivers, estuaries and coastal areas. They can tolerate both cold and warm environments and can live at any elevation as long as the habitat provides an adequate food source. On Kodiak, river otters live in timbered habitat next to the coast. They often travel long distances overland between bodies of water and use the same trails year after year. While more common at sea level, river otters on Kodiak are sometimes found high in the mountains.
River otters reach sexual maturity at age two, and females produce one litter per year. In Alaska, otters breed in the spring, and breeding can take place in or out of the water. A female may give birth to as many as six pups, but two or three are more common. Due to delayed implantation of the fertilized egg in the uterine wall, pups may be born from late January to June after a gestation of nine to thirteen months.
Pups are born in a den, and at birth, they are toothless and blind. They open their eyes when they are seven weeks old, and at two months of age, they begin to leave the den and start to swim and eat solid food. Pups do not innately know how to swim but must be taught by their mother who sometimes has to force and even drag them into the water. Pups are weaned when they are five months old, but they stay with their mother until just before her next litter is born.
River otters are usually found in groups. Often these groups are related individuals, such as a mother and her pups, with or without an adult male. The female is normally the dominate member of such a group and will drive other animals away from the area around her den. Other groups may consist of siblings who have left their mother, a male and female otter, or a group of bachelor males. While otters live together in social units, they do not hunt together or share their catch with other members of their group. River otters may live for more than twenty years, but a lifespan of eight to nine years is more common.
In Alaska, river otters hunt on land and in fresh and salt water. They are opportunistic feeders and eat mussels, clams, sea urchins, snails, crabs, shrimp, octopi, fish, insects, birds, small mammals, and even plants. Otters normally eat their aquatic organisms on shore, and it is not unusual for us to find the remains of a river otter’s breakfast on our dock. If an otter catches a fish or other organism that is too big to eat in one meal, it eats what it can and abandons the rest of the food. River otters have a high metabolism and must eat often.
River otters spend half of their time sleeping. Both adults and pups are playful and like to slide on snow and mud. They wrestle, chase their tails, dunk each other in the water, and play with rocks and sticks. This playful behavior strengthens social bonds and aids pups in learning how to hunt.
River otters communicate with each other in a variety of ways. They use several vocalizations, including whistles, yelps, growls, and screams. When they are alarmed or upset, they emit a loud “hah” sound, and when two or more otters are together, they may mumble to each other as if in conversation. They chirp like a bird to express anxiety, and this sound is often heard when members of a group become separated from each other.[3] Otters also communicate by body posturing and by touch. They use the scent produced by the glands at the base of their tail to mark their territories or to create scent trails to communicate where they have been.
