#4 – Boreal's Most Wanted

As the poster notes, we have had some of our hens predated at one of the sites this season. In many cases, we would approach a nest box to find piles of feathers scattered below it, and with a closer look we might spot a wing or a leg nearby. At several boxes, we recovered legs still carrying bands and web tags, allowing us to identify the individual hens that had previously been captured and marked at those nests. These recoveries even helped us track the predator's movements, as the predation events appeared to progress from our northernmost boxes southward along the river corridor. Based on the pattern of predation, our leading suspect is the deceptively adorable American pine marten, a highly skilled and efficient predator. However, wildlife investigations are rarely straight forward. Other potential suspects include the equally charming North American mink (member of the mustelid family with a talent for causing trouble), or even an avian predator such as a raven. For now, the case remains open.

Fortunately, cavity-nesting waterfowl experience much lower rates of predation than ground-nesting species, one of the major advantages of nesting in enclosed cavities and nest boxes. However, lower risk does not mean no risk, and these losses serve as a reminder that predation remains a natural part of the nesting cycle.

This past week has been one of the biggest hatch weeks of the season for us. Our days have been filled with web tagging ducklings, conducting pip checks, checking on later nesting hens and capturing hens that flush from their nest if you breathe too heavily while approaching the box. On average, we have had six nests hatch each day, making for some very long but incredibly rewarding field days. Alaska’s 24hr daylight has been a surprisingly useful field assistant, allowing us to work well into the evening, with most nights not returning to camp until after 10pm. When the sun never seems to set neither does the work day!

There is nothing quite like opening a nest box and being greeted by a pile of fluffy, yawning ducklings. After weeks of monitoring nests and waiting for hatch dates to arrive, it is very hard to beat that feeling. We also quickly discovered that the wiggly, poopy nature of Common Goldeneye hens is apparently passed down to their ducklings. The hens certainly put up a fight when we catch them, but the ducklings somehow manage to pack even more energy into a much smaller package. What should be a simple process of counting, web tagging, and returning ducklings to the nest often turns into a frenzy of tiny toe curling, constant movement, and an impressive amount of poop. Despite the chaos, we have to resist the temptation to slip one into a pocket and bring home to have a camp duckling. After spending our days surrounded by newly hatched broods, it's hard to imagine anything cuter than a duckling. Their oversized feet, fluffy plumage, and endless curiosity make them nearly impossible not to love. Fortunately for the ducklings (and probably for us) we settle for a few photos before returning them back to their boxes.

On a brighter (pretty pink) note, we’ve finally seen what the dreaded rose hip flowers look like, and they are quite beautiful. They say beauty is pain, though I’m fairly certain they weren't referring to rose hip bushes, but I can now confirm the saying still holds true. On another note our camp moose (that we have decidedly named Dale) that has been hanging around our backyard pond has moved much closer to camp. Dale has now found his way in our driveway and directly outside of Ilene’s tent. Like most ungulates, he seems more curious than anything else, simply working his way through camp with quiet interest. We're happy to add him to our growing camp family. 

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