Moose in Southcentral Alaska typically calve between now and early June, with the number peaking around May 25. New mothers can be hyper-protective and wise photogs and woods-people don’t mess around with them.
So last week’s subzero temperatures finally vanished. Overnight. And just like that the snow started melting as days warmed into the mid-40s and 50s F. Even more miraculously, the waterfowl began to arrive. First, I saw trumpeter swans. They came in pairs or small flocks, landing on ice shelves near open water. Their hornlike callsContinue reading “And Just Like that, Spring Was Here”
By Ken Marsh Every city, village and community in this wilderness state has its own birds, animals and viewing treasures. Armed only with a camera and with nowhere to hide I knew calling in a bull moose might be risky. But afternoon glare had eased into golden evening light and the willow shadows now stretchedContinue reading “Alaska Wildlife Viewing: The Urban Option”
Autumn lends colorful insight to life on the Last Frontier. By Ken Marsh “Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.” – Samuel Butler I Early as it seems, first week of August, the wild raspberries are already perfectly ripe in Southcentral Alaska. Locals find themContinue reading “The Savoring Season”
By Ken Marsh “When sorrows come, they come not single spies. But in battalions!” – William Shakespeare, “Hamlet” The wolves didn’t hesitate. Four of them, three grays and a smokey-black converged on the moose. Two of the grays lunged for the throat, another snapped at an ear – and for a moment hung from it, tugging –Continue reading “Wolfpack”
By Ken Marsh “In order to subsist this early man had to dedicate himself wholly to hunting. Hunting was, then, the first occupation, man’s first work and craft.” – Jose Ortega yGasset, Meditations on Hunting The photograph was, at first glance, startling. It featured bright, sticky blood smeared on the brown cheeks and forehead of anContinue reading “Who We Are”
Successful hunts are perfect conspiracies of preparation and good luck. By Ken Marsh I’d arrived late in the day, after a long drive followed by a hike into the hills. By the time my tent was pitched and camp organized, little time remained for hunting, maybe half an hour at most. Already dusk rose fromContinue reading “The Hunt”