<\/a>Snow covers the beach near Gustavus airport on Jan. 3.<\/p><\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
The grasses on the upper meadows made beautiful golden, frost-covered arches that caught the sunlight. A snipe was foraging in a nearby ditch. It was mostly concealed by the steep bank but occasionally it flew ahead to find a new spot in which to search. Although they typically nest in marshy places, in fall and winter we see them on forested streams. There were clusters of mallards at the edge of the river, foraging and sleeping. Small gangs of geese flew noisily overhead.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
At the edge of the estuary, an otter had emerged and left a typical trail of footprints interrupted by a long, smooth slide. A raven had hopped up from the water’s edge and gone airborne, leaving the marks of jumping feet and just one wing. Perhaps it veered off to the side as it took off. A very small shorebird had left its prints in the mud. The snow on the high intertidal area was smooth and unmarked; no wolves or moose had passed by there recently.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
Heading back toward the forest, the scattered, pioneering spruces gradually got denser and taller. From behind one small stand, a large bird went winging, almost overhead, into a bigger stand of taller spruces. Aha! A short-eared owl, a hoped-for sighting. These owls often frequent the meadows in winter, looking for voles and other small, vulnerable critters. They are fun to watch, with their distinctive style of flight.<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
Some crossbills landed on small spruces; they occasionally chose a vertical twig and perched right at the end of it. This led to the question of how they manage to perch there without getting stabbed by the sharp needles. Can they just somehow fit their toes among the erect needles? Or do they perhaps select twigs that have a large central, unopened bud to wrap their toes around?<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t
Near one spruce grove, we stopped to look at something (now forgotten) and I heard an odd sound coming from the trees. It was hard to describe — I heard it as a soft, tonal “pop,” but my companion described it as a moan or wheeze. There were several of these pops, and my naturalist friend said they were made by a red squirrel. Really? Yup — they do it after each sharp, little bark, perhaps when inhaling. I couldn’t hear the barks, just the pops, but my friend saw the squirrel in the tree and was confident that it was the perpetrator. A new thing to listen for!<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t