The Last Days

The breeding bird scene on the Canning River Delta begins to wind down in earnest by the second week of July. Active shorebirds nests dwindle into the single digits, and soon only loons and a few waterfowl nests are all that remain active. Flocks of sandpipers and plovers are seen flying overhead and in the distance skeins of sea ducks can be seen following the coast westward. The Beaufort Sea ice has devolved into bergy bits and rumors of Polar Bears on the barrier islands trickle through the satellite communication waves.

Just like the shifting seasons, life in the Canning camp begins to change as well. Our nest-checking circuits through the study area shorten and the pile of completed nest cards grows. Hours spent nest-searching become hours spent entering data and contemplating the future. Fresh bread and vegetables become a distant memory, replaced by pilot bread and peanut butter. The time has come for the literal scraping of the bottom of the barrel and the redefinition of delicacy. Yes. It is time to throw stuffing mix into a bowl of ramen noodles and eat handfuls of Hall’s throat lozenges for dessert.

What are the last few days of camp really like? Here is a series of photos that help encapsulate what Patches, Alex, and I were up to.


Ever wonder what permafrost looks like? The bluffs along the Beaufort Sea slump in the mid-summer heat, revealing their icy core. The tundra wetlands that Arctic wildlife rely upon sit atop this frozen layer, creating habitats typical of much wetter environments.


One of the fixtures of mid-July at the Canning is waterfowl migration. It all starts with the exodus of males from the breeding grounds, like this flock of White-winged Scoters flying high directly over camp.

One of our final nights through camp, we spotted a medium-sized Caribou herd in the distance headed our way. Alex and I laid low in the tundra mounds and the herd continued in our direction. Turn up the volume and listen to those grunts!


Before anything could get packed up, we had to do a complete inventory of camp, covering everything from the number of tuna cans (60) and rolls of toilet paper (1) to the number of binder clips (75) and tent stakes (200). While doing this, we had to decide which items could stay in camp and which would need to return to Fairbanks for the winter. Then, we assigned each item staying in camp to a bear-proof metal drum that we lined with a thick plastic contractor bag and sealed up with a desiccant. Here Alex takes a break to scan for mammals while getting photobombed by just a few midnight mosquitos.


Spearheaded by the enthusiasm of Patches, we set out to bury two barrels to be used as refrigerators for the 2018 field crew. This is a task that can only be done during mid-summer, when the permafrost has receded enough to allow excavation. Come next spring, the barrels will be locked into the frozen soil. What does that translate to? More cheese!


The final task was to assemble all gear that was remaining in camp into a fortified pile to withstand the Arctic winter blitzkrieg of -50°F temperatures, hurricane force winds, and darkness. How to prepare for such an onslaught? In addition to sealing everything in metal drums, we used wooden planks to elevate everything we could and used two large weather resistant canvas tarps as protection, driving large nails through each grommet. We then used all the rope we had to tie the beast down in every direction.


On the morning of July 17th, I called refuge pilot Dan Shelden in Fairbanks to report a 1,000 ft. cloud ceiling and improving visibility of the Brooks Range. He reported that the weather was suitable for flying on his end. Showtime!  After the four-day scramble to pack up camp, all there was left to do was to drag everything headed back to Fairbanks down to the runway and wait for the sounds of the Cessna 185. This photo shows my personal belongings after I broke down my tent and before I descended to the riverbank landing strip. Dan arrived around 1:00 pm and made two flights to Galbraith Lake ferrying Alex and gear before heading from camp back to Fairbanks with Patches and me on the 3rd and final flight.

Our flight back to Fairbanks took us from our camp on the Arctic coastal plain back south over the Brooks Range and into the boreal forest. To be able to observe this unspoiled wilderness from this perspective is something that will stay with me forever. The rainbow wasn’t bad either!

This project is a partnership between Manomet Inc., the U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service, the Wildlife Conservation Society, the U.S. Geological Survey, and BP Alaska Inc.  Major funding was provided by the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation, and by donors to Manomet.

One thought on “The Last Days

  1. Wow. Alan, you write with such beautiful cadence and flow. The true mark of a great writer is that their work can be easily read aloud and brings the reader a feeling of awe. Please consider writing a book.

    Meanwhile, thank you for this final chapter of the season. I am deeply grateful for your work and Manomet’s caring for the wildlife of the Arctic!

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