Elusive Aurora (Borealis)

About 10pm, Tuesday night, in spite of frigid temperatures, news of a stronger-than-average solar burst enticed me out of doors in search of the elusive Aurora. I say "elusive" because in the past few years I've noticed a trend toward fewer Aurora sightings and, even when spotted, the color (usually just green) has been less vibrant, even milky.

I also say "elusive" because in the ten years I've lived in this village, I've never been able to capture the Northern Lights photographically. And even these meager shots in the dark (literally) were taken without a tripod, so they're nothing to brag about from a technical standpoint.

Still, I feel like one of those Sasquatch hunters who has finally snagged a clear, indisputable photo of his quarry! I caught the Aurora in my own back yard! How terrific is that?

Was it worth kneeling in the snow?

...in the dark?

...@ 47 below?

...while brushing frost off my eyelashes and nose?

Completely!

And a fun little factoid about wearing snow pants and a heavy parka is that no one can see the pajamas underneath! :)



So if you're interested in the Aurora Borealis, here are some extremely informative sites that delve deeper into both the scientific and photographic aspects of the subject. I found graphs that illustrate and explain the dearth of aurora sightings I've noticed over the last few years. How validating! :)

Aurora Hunter

Aurora Forecast-Geophysical Institute

The Aurora Page

Hunting The Great Alaskan Aurora

And if you want to see spectacular photographs and an awesome video of Tuesday night's aurora activity in Canada and the UK...check this out! (scroll all the way to the bottom for the video)

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2091117/The-midnight-phoenix-rises-Biggest-solar-storms-seven-years-create-spectacular-northern-lights.html

You Snooze....You Lose

Last night I was exhausted.

I don't think I've ever thanked God for a Friday with more heartfelt gratitude. Juggling girl's conditioning sessions, GED instruction, and managing the student store alongside regular teacherly responsibilities has my brain and body reeling. When my head finally hit the pillow I was, as they say, dead to the world.

Most nights, that would be just fine, but just a few minutes ago I trekked over to the post office and discovered that my much-needed snooze session came with a price. Apparently, there was a polar bear in town and it was actually right outside my window!

Being dead to the world, I had no clue.

This is my ninth school year in this village. In that time, this is maybe the fourth polar bear that has ventured down from the coast. However, it is the first time that one has wandered among the houses. I heard from neighbors that the outside dogs didn't even bark (smart dogs...they know when to keep a low profile). No one knew the bear was there until one poor teenage girl, walking all alone, rounded a building and found herself face-to-face with what could have been her worst nightmare....only yards away.

Don't worry. The quick-thinking girl jumped into a nearby house immediately. She's fine, though understandably shaken. I heard that the bear was walking toward her as she scrambled into the building. I shudder to think what would have happened if one of our little ones had been in the same position. Would they have had the presence of mind to get away or would they have just stood there gaping or crying, frozen in terror?

Hopefully, we'll never have to learn the answer to that question, but there are murmurings that this bear was not alone (two more sets of tracks have been found), so it's a concern.

Polar bears are not easy for me to write about. On one hand, they are magnificent animals that fill me with curiosity and admiration. I would have been thrilled to see a polar bear sniffing around my window! I think most people feel the same way. I was completely mesmerized by the video about Klondike and Snow (the polar bear cubs that were raised at the Denver Zoo years ago) and I am envious of those who live in the coastal villages where bear watching is commonplace.

Unfortunately, when you live in the Arctic, there is always the other hand to think about. In spite of all the movies and commercials and photographs-in-emails that depict bears as cute, cuddly, fun-loving creatures...or even aloof, independent ones...the bottom line is that they are wild animals with no sense of right or wrong or sentimentality beyond survival. A hungry, wandering bear might prefer to eat fish or a seal, but if there doesn't happen to be any fish or seals around at the moment...a defenseless dog or even a person would certainly be fair game.

That leaves me with very mixed feelings...especially now that one has crossed the line.

Snow Bath!

While my southern friends are already contending with heat in the 90s and humidity that melts the body away from the soul, in Atqasuk we are experiencing breezes of 16-24 mph and windchills as low as -11F. If Forrest Gump had jogged this far north, I feel certain that he would have said, "Arctic springtime is like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're gonna get."

And he'd be exactly right.

As I look out my window, every day brings something different. Today, swirling snow is gathering up in puffy piles on the window sill and lightly dusting the crusty shell that has formed over our still-frozen ground. Other days (as above) the air is cold, but the sky is clear. Sunshine toasts the rooftops and warms the surface of the snow so that treading upon it produces a little crunch.

On the edge of my roof, just outside my window, a lone snowbird is staging a concert...totally free...for anyone who will listen. I have to smile as he puffs his chest and belts out his lively tune. It's better than any lullaby (or alarm clock) I know.



Aside from ravens, snow buntings are the first birds to return to the North Slope in spring. After months (and months) of silence across the tundra, the song of the snowbird is a welcome sign that break-up is on its way.

Though I've been waking to the cheerful sound of snow buntings for several weeks, the first one that I actually spotted was on a rooftop behind the school. He was too far away for really nice photos, but watching him vigorously enjoying his snow bath was a special treat that made me smile all the way home.



Preen...



Clean...



Pristine!

Fall Fashion

These days Nuna is sporting a distinctively autumn atikluk. Her fall fashions are among an expansive collection exclusively designed by Freezing Temperatures and North Wind Unlimited.

Fresh off the runway, her ensemble is a celebration of rich color...



... and textural interest.



Beaded accessories were provided by Days & Days of Fog who graciously added dimension to Nuna's wardrobe with countless strings of genuine H2O.



A few impressive pieces were on loan from Precipitation Factory Direct (stay tuned for their soon-to-be-released ice collection).



It's good to see that, even at her age, Nuna still enjoys a little bling.

Weighty Subject

Whew! Things have really been crazy since school started three weeks ago and nothing has been hit harder by the whirlwind of renewed activity than this blog. So, while there are plenty of things to share, there is very little time to share it.

I am completely in awe of FC over at Pure Florida in that he somehow manages post interesting things almost daily in spite of his hectic school schedule and personal commitments. Kudos to you, FC! I'm just not there yet, but you are definitely my blogging inspiration!

So...

While I have a few short minutes, I thought I'd offer up some photos of a fossilized Woolly Mammoth tusk recently discovered on the tundra by a local hunter here in Atqasuk. It's not an uncommon thing to find tusks up here, but this one is quite a bit larger than others that have surfaced.



This thing weighs about sixty pounds and is probably more than 4000 years old! Pretty amazing, huh?

It kind of redefines that old expression of being "long in the tooth!"

End of Summer

Where in the world did the summer go?

(I know, I know...Australia!)

It seems to have slipped behind the clouds while attention was trained on a recent thunderstorm. As I write this, our ambient temperature is 34 (F) with a windchill of 24 degrees. After the last two or three days' rain and wind, the cotton grass around the village now more closely resembles the wet, matted fur of a freshly-bathed cat than the fluffy balls of cotton in the photograph above.

The sun dips progressively lower in the sky as if weary from months of radiating around the clock. Two weeks ago we had a string of pleasant, though windy, blue-sky days and anyone with a four-wheeler got outside and made the most of it.



Hunters went hunting. Fishers went fishing. Pickers went picking. And big brothers took little sisters for rides around the village, enjoying the fresh scent of wet summer grass and the warm caress of sun on their cheeks that will be a memory all too soon.



Quiet moments of sun-splashed Summer grow shorter and fainter every day...





while Autumn slips in a silent finger and does some doodling in the sand.

Squirrelly

It's not just the landscape that gets all squirrelly this time of year.

I'm sitting here, in my classroom, trying to update my blog, and I just had to close the mini-blinds because the sun is so bright that I'm beginning to see spots...at 12:45 AM.

The last few days have been cool (in the 40's and 50's), with light winds around 20 mph and relatively bug-free air space. Yes! Mosquitoes have been sparse for the last couple of days!

I'm hoping it's a trend and not just a blip.

I guess we'll see.

According to this cool chart, we have about 35 days before the sun finally dips below the horizon again. These super-long days make sleeping impossible for some, optional for others.

Don't think for a minute that parka squirrels are the only ones enjoying the midnight sun.



What would you do with 24 hours of daylight?

Way Too Buggy!

Spring came early this year.

In fact, for a few days at the end of April, the North Slope experienced a dramatic temperature spike from the mid-20's up to and above 40 degrees Fahrenheit. Everything began to drip and slush and flow at an amazing, completely unexpected, pace. That sort of thing doesn't usually happen until June.

Unfortunately, with early spring comes early thawing and hatching of about a kazillion mosquitoes.

Now, I can appreciate that mosquitoes have a place in the "circle of life."  I can appreciate that many migratory birds feed on mosquitoes. And I appreciate that mosquitoes feed on the nectar of flowering plants and can be credited with some of the pollination of the tundra that occurs each year. I can even appreciate that female mosquitoes need protein for the development of their eggs. But I find it very difficult to appreciate being the source of that protein!

According to this article on Scholastic's website for kids, Ken Philip, an entomologist in Alaska reports that if you are on Alaska's North Slope with no repellent and lots of exposed skin, you could die from loss of blood within three hours! Although I can't verify the accuracy of that statement, my own experience with Arctic mosquitoes leads me to believe that Ken Philip has it just about right.

The movie The Snow Walker has been listed on my sidebar since the early days of this blog. Although the story is actually set in the Canadian Arctic, everything looks and feels extremely familiar. In one of the scenes, the main character, a bush pilot who has crash landed smack in the middle of the tundra in summer, tries to escape a swarm of hungry mosquitoes. I have experienced (many) similar swarms, but never without protection. I was amazed by the realism of that scene and can't imagine how they accomplished it. If you're interested, check out this great clip. There is a short segment in the clip that shows him trying to outrun the swarm. Of course, the movie shows more.

I'm including a little mosquito footage of my own.  Though definitely not an example of high-quality camera work, it's what I have for now. It is difficult to see the LCD or manipulate the camera while hiding hands and every other vulnerable body part inside a nylon mesh bug shirt, but I just couldn't bring myself to sacrifice skin or blood for the sake of better video. 

Sorry about that.

Snow Bunting, Captured!

Okay, bird lovers, smooth those ruffled feathers. I'm talking about capturing this elusive character digitally. But you knew that, right?

After feeling rather jealous of Clare's recent shot of a Snow Bunting and then absolutely drooling over these, I continued to carry my camera literally everywhere, hoping my moment would come. And it finally did...at four o'clock in the morning! Good thing we've got plenty of sunlight to accommodate.

The little guy I photographed seems partial to that particular spot. I'm pretty sure he's the one that I've observed there quite a few times before. He sits very close to the edge and sings to his heart's content. I can hear it in the house, even with the windows closed. This isn't a great photo, I know. I certainly would have loved to have been closer or able to zoom in more, but it's still the best I've been able to capture so far and I've been trying for years.

Why the mildly obsessive interest in Snow Buntings?

Good question.

I think it has a lot to do with the fact that they are the first birds to return in spring (except for ravens and seagulls). They flit all around the village, doing aerial acrobatics, heralding from every rooftop and telephone pole that winter is really behind us.

In early spring, while snow is still abundant, the Snow Bunting's black and white color scheme makes spotting them something of a challenge.

But there is absolutely no mistaking that sweet song.



According to whatBird.com the collective word for this species is "drift."

A drift of buntings. Isn't that beautiful?

How very appropriate for a group of birds that blow in on the wind and flutter like snowflakes through the frosty springtime air.

In Lieu of Trees

In a land with no trees...one must make do.

And, apparently, ravens are extremely good at exactly that! This pair of Common Ravens staked out an interesting piece of real estate and set up house keeping lickety-split.



Now, birds are great adapters, I know. They spare no effort nor creativity as they attempt to cope with human encroachment on their territories. If you doubt that, check out this amazing Osprey nest from the archives of Pure Florida, a terrific, mostly-nature, purely-Florida blog.

However, these ravens are not victims of territory infringement or over-crowding. They could go anywhere, hundreds of miles in any direction, and be away from "civilization" if they really wanted to. I imagine (perhaps naively) that they come here and live in this village, claiming the telephone poles, rooftops, heating vents, and even satellite dishes completely by choice. I'm sure dumpsters are a big draw in and of themselves, but I find myself wondering if they might hang out in a village because they actually like being around people (and their pets). Not in a friendly, up close and personal sort of way, but from a distance, out of curiosity and an innate propensity for pestering.

Some of the kids around here call these birds "crows." I grew up surrounded by cornfields in the South. I know what crows are and these are not crows. Not only are they much larger than crows, but their vocalizations are completely different. I found a great sound file on whatBird.com (one of my favorite resources) along with a nice map of their habitat which ranges across most of North America year-round. There are a couple of sounds that I've heard ravens produce that are not on the website recording and they're difficult to describe...something akin to the clicks and whistles of R2D2 in Star Wars. I couldn't find a free copy of that, so you'll just have to use your memory (or imagination).

Ravens have personality. I can't even count how many times a raven or two has followed my dog and me on our walks across the tundra or along the river. Are they opportunistic? Absolutely! Maybe they follow us in the hope that we'll scare up lemmings or other such potential food, but when I mimic their vocalizations, they always talk back. I don't imagine it to be amiable conversation. It's more like talking to a crotchety old geezer who shouts unsolicited advice from his porch.

My first experience with ravens ocurred back when I was still a newbie in this village. Two were on the roof of my house, waging war, their enormous claws clicking loudly against the tin. I hurried outside to reprimand whatever naughty child must be throwing rocks on the roof and found the enormous dueling-twosome instead. They looked like shiny black knights locked in mortal combat.

But these two, on the other hand, have something different in mind.



Ah, spring!

Nature's Abstracts

Hot or cold? Damp or dry? What will it be today?

The elements subtly play their cards while puddles and piles await their fate. The Sun seems to hold a winning hand, but the Arctic wind may conceal an ace. Chips stack up on either side as round after round is perpetually played.



Nature's abstracts abound in spring...





...for she has no poker face.

Wholly Frozen Caribou!

Some mysterious photos are circulating across the North Slope and they are quite the humdingers.

But let me begin by saying two things.  

1.  I received these photos in an email.  I don't know who took the photos, the circumstances involved, or the date on which they were taken.  

2.  My only purpose in sharing them is to illustrate the harsh reality of extreme cold and the impact on all life inhabiting this region.  It is not my intention to trivialize an animal's misery or death.  

Unfortunately, every year, a few animals do freeze in the Arctic.   However, there is much debate around the community about whether or not this poor caribou froze on the ground and was set upright for the photo or did actually freeze as it stood alone against a frigid wind.  According to local hunters, either is possible.

The message that accompanied the photos in the email was short:

"Check this out...the caribou was found frozen in place by DEC personnel on a site inspection on the North Slope. That is some cold weather....temps were down in the -40s F wind chills to -70 to -80.

Caribou froze standing still at -80 wind chill in Kuparuk AK."

When I googled Kuparuk, I found this map...

...and this article about the nasty oil/water spill that occurred there a few months ago.  (for those who might be interested)

All around the village, caribou chip away at packed snow with their hooves and graze on last year's honey-colored grass buried beneath.  I've seen areas where small groups have bedded down on the tundra, the warmth of their bodies melting snow a foot deep or more.  I think it would be difficult for a lone caribou to survive for long during the coldest, darkest nights of winter.

In my opinion, the legs are positioned oddly for an animal who died on the ground.  And caribou hooves are large, unlike the narrower hooves of a deer.  The snow seems to be hugging the legs very closely.  If someone had picked it up and "planted" it in the snow, it seems like there would be hoof-sized holes around the legs.  I don't see that.

On the other hand, in the first photo, there is a white patch on the caribou's left hind leg that looks like a chunk of packed snow.  It's hard to imagine how that could become fused to an animal's fur without some prolonged contact with the ground.   Still, that could be a remnant of snow from another, less challenging, day.

It's hard to know just what to think.



It's a mystery.

An unfortunate secret only Winter knows...and will probably never tell.

Solar Sighting...How Exciting!

Our first day of sun was January 21st, but my classroom is on the north side of the school and I missed it! I heard about it, though. Kids were buzzing. Adults were humming. I must have been asked more than twenty times, "Kimberlee, did you see the sun?"

The second day, I was determined to catch a glimpse and I wasn't disappointed. This time of year, the sun stays low in the sky, splashing clouds with buttery gold, blazing a tangerine trail from southeast to southwest. It's not much of a trek at this point and it's over before you know it, but that doesn't seem to diminish the impact...and may even serve to heighten it.

Even unsightly telephone poles take on a regal appearance against a gilded backdrop such as this. At least it seems that way to me, but I'll admit that my perception may be a tad skewed.

What is it they say?

Absence makes the heart grow fonder?

I think, in this case, the old adage rings true.

Almost There

Cloud cover broke on Saturday revealing, for a few short moments, a slim stretch of southern sky, ablaze with long-forgotten glory. I stood on a snowy hill captivated by the brilliance and intensity. Nuna seemed to be yawning, stretching a little, stirring from her long winter nap. Her eyes fluttered, but never completely opened.

Not yet.

Tomorrow, I think. Or maybe the next day.

The faint breeze was warm enough to prompt lowering my parka hood, yet cold enough to make me sorry that I'd done it. Ears stinging, I lifted my hood and walked eastward, toward the river where snow fences stand at attention, while the building breeze nudged me from behind.



By the time I reached the snow fences, only a few minutes later, the wind was already picking up and kicking up lots of snow.





Heading home, I passed the spot where I'd just taken pictures of the sunlight. Gone were the oranges, purples, and pinks. Nuna's eyes had shut tight again with the covers pulled up over her head.

Not today.

Not yet.

Maybe tomorrow. Or the day after.



Riders on snow machines raced around the village, hunkering down against the sting of blowing snow. I was actually enjoying the wind and the tapping sound of snow pelting my parka.



I held tightly to my dog's leash as the wind whipped it sideways with ferocious jerks. I smiled at the (silly) thought of my dog, if only a few pounds lighter, suddenly becoming airborne like a kite.
It could happen.

Maybe.

Judging by his pace, as he struggled to get back home, I think my dog might have had the same idea.



But, somehow, he didn't seem at all amused.