Alaska: Majesty of the North

Main Tour

Day 1: Our main tour begins with an evening meeting in the lobby of our Anchorage hotel. Night in Anchorage.

Days 2-4: We’ll fly on the morning of Day 2 to the Bering Sea town of Nome. If a birder had to choose just one town in Alaska to visit, it should be Nome. This region has most of what makes Alaska… Alaska. At Safety Lagoon, where Red-throated and Pacific Loons breed and Parasitic Jaegers harass nesting Aleutian and Arctic Terns, migration will still be in progress. We’ll hope to see many waterbirds, perhaps including Emperor Goose or a rarity such as Red-necked Stint or Slaty-backed Gull. Both of the main roads out of Nome, to Teller and to Taylor, pass through tundra rich in breeding shorebirds, including American and Pacific Golden-Plovers and Bar-tailed Godwit, and in the surrounding hills and along willow-lined rivers we may find nesting Gyrfalcon or Golden Eagle. Willow and Rock Ptarmigans, Bluethroat, Northern Wheatear, Arctic Warbler, and Eastern Yellow Wagtail, which all occur here as breeders. We’ll search especially for Bristle-thighed Curlew, a few pairs of which nest accessibly in the wild mountainous landscapes north of Nome; occasionally we’ve seen the curlews in the same field of view as Muskox. Nights in Nome.

Day 5: After a final morning in the Nome area, we’ll take a midday flight back to Anchorage. Night in Anchorage.

Day 6: We’ll begin this morning with a visit to Anchorage’s Westchester Lagoon, where we’ll see nesting Red-necked Grebes and, with luck, a variety of summering shorebirds, sometimes including Hudsonian Godwit and Short-billed Dowitcher. Later we’ll drive the 300 miles north to our base for the night near the eastern end of the Denali Highway. It’s a spectacular trip with vast areas of black spruce and willow, where we’ll keep a keen eye out for Spruce Grouse along the road and Bohemian Waxwings or Northern Hawk-Owl perched in the treetops. We’ll arrive at our cabins in the early evening, with some time to look around the grassy tundra near the lodge for species such as nesting Cliff Swallows, various waterfowl including Trumpeter Swan and perhaps Say’s Phoebe. Night near Paxson.

Day 7: We’ll leave our comfortable lodge early this morning to bird the splendid Denali Highway, a well-graded dirt road that runs west through near wilderness for 130 miles. Recent conditions on the eastern end of the highway have caused a general drying of the tundra, making the small population of Smith’s Longspurs that irregularly use the valley quite hard to locate. If any birds are present or our normal spots condition improves we will start the day with a visit a few miles back to the east of the lodge, where we have had luck over the last few years tracking down the splendid Smith’s Longspur. Once back from our walk we’ll spend the rest of the day birding westward on the highway, looking for an array of birds including Trumpeter and Tundra Swans, Spruce Grouse, Bohemian Waxwing, Arctic Warbler, and with some luck, Northern Hawk Owl. The scenery is superlative and the wild lands seemingly endless as the road passes from boreal forest to tundra against the backdrop of the snowy Alaska Range. We’ll spend all day on the road, reaching our lodge for the next two nights near the entrance to Denali National Park. Night near Denali NP.

Day 8: Denali National Park is closed to most automobile traffic, and as of 2026 the main park road is still under construction due to the 2021 landslide that makes travel into the inner reaches of the area impossible.  The current projection is that this new road will not be complete for at least the next summer (and possibly longer). Assuming that this is still the case in 2027, we will either spend the day driving north toward Alaska’s second city; Fairbanks, or make use of the limited service of the shuttle buses to the furthest point within the park one can reach (the complete round trip takes about 6 hours). If in the park, our main objectives are scenery and large mammals such as Grizzly Bear, Dall Sheep, Caribou and Moose. We’ll also watch for Willow Ptarmigan. If we travel north toward Fairbanks, the area offers chances for scarce or more local species such as Northern Hawk and sometimes Boreal Owls, Bohemian Waxwing, Yellow-bellied and Hammond’s Flycatchers and Ruffed Grouse.  Denali is so colossal that it creates its own weather, usually bad, and clouds typically obscure all but the lowest slopes. Even from our traditional spots well inside the park we would be lucky to view the mountain well. Our best views may well come as we drive to and from Anchorage or on our flights to and from Nome. Night near Denali NP.

Day 9: After a final morning around Denali, where we will look diligently for any of the interior Alaska species that we may still be missing we will head back towards Anchorage. Our route to Anchorage will take us by some recently burned areas where we can look for American Three-toed and Black-backed Woodpeckers, Boreal Chickadee and Olive-sided Flycatcher. Large lakes along the road support pairs of Common Loons and the occasional colony of Bonaparte’s or Short-billed Gulls, and the reedbeds around some of them host a nice array of high arctic dragonflies. We’ll arrive in Anchorage in time for dinner. Night in Anchorage.

Day 10: This morning will provide some “down time” for those who wish, while others may prefer birdwatching around Anchorage, where we should see Boreal Chickadee, White-winged Crossbill, Alder Flycatcher and more widespread species such as Lincoln’s Sparrow, and Hairy and Downy Woodpecker. If we have not yet connected with a Spruce Grouse we may well spend some time in one of the city’s many fine parks where this often elusive chicken might be lurking.  In the early afternoon we’ll drive to Seward through the superb mountain scenery along the Turnagain Arm of Cook Inlet and up onto the Kenai Peninsula. We’ll spend the late afternoon around Seward, where the forest of huge Sitka spruce holds many species that just reach southern Alaska, including Rufous Hummingbird, Chestnut-backed Chickadee, Varied Thrush, Townsend’s Warbler, and Pine Grosbeak. The Fox Sparrows that we’ll see here along the coast are likely a different species, the Sooty Fox Sparrow. A lovely feature of our time here will be a dinner of fresh seafood at a restaurant right on a Seward wharf. Night in Seward.

Day 11: We’ll spend the day on Resurrection Bay and Blying Sound south of Seward. If the weather is clear, the scenery is awe-inspiring, and we’ll see several spectacular glaciers. We’ll visit several large seabird colonies, where we should find Tufted and Horned Puffins, Thick-billed and Common Murres, and thousands of Black-legged Kittiwakes. Rhinoceros Auklet and Ancient Murrelet are both possible, and near one of the glaciers we’ll search the groups Marbled Murrelets for the globally rare Kittlitz’s. In the deep waters at the farthest extent of our boat trip, we occasionally see deeper water birds such as Sooty Shearwaters or Fork-tailed Storm-Petrels. Marine mammals are also numerous, and we can expect Steller’s Sea Lion, Sea Otter, Humpback Whale, and possibly the magnificent Orca. Night in Seward.

Day 12: After a final morning in Seward driving along the edge of Resurrection Bay to look for Harlequin Duck and Wandering Tattler, we’ll return to Anchorage. We’ll make a quick stop at Potter’s Marsh to check for any interesting waterfowl, and final views of nesting Short-billed Gulls and Arctic Terns. If we have time, we’ll return to Westchester Lagoon in search of migrating shorebirds. Night in Anchorage.

Day 13: The main tour concludes this morning in Anchorage.

Utqiagvik (Barrow) Extension

Day 13: Those of us continuing on the extension will fly this morning to Utqiagvik (formerly known as Barrow). Night in Utqiagvik.

Day 14: Utqiagvik, the most northerly city in Alaska, has a large native population, comfortable lodging and a couple restaurants, and best of all, access to wonderful high-latitude tundra rich in breeding birds. We’ll have the better part of two days to explore this remarkable environment in search of the breeding birds that have made Barrow famous. We’ll search for Steller’s and Spectacled Eiders (among the more numerous King) and Red Phalarope on the numerous lakes and ponds along the roads and Pectoral, Semipalmated, and Western Sandpipers, Dunlin, and Long-billed Dowitchers in the tussock tundra. Yellow-billed Loon is also usually present in small numbers, and if it’s a lemming year, Snowy Owls and Pomarine Jaegers are an obvious part of the local bird community; it’s not unusual to see 20 or 30 of each in a single day. The tundra around Barrow is a remarkably rich environment, with nesting shorebirds seemingly every few hundred yards, and often offers a wealth of opportunities for close-range photography.

There are sometimes rarer species around, including shorebirds such as Ruff, Red-necked Stint, and White-rumped or Stilt Sandpiper, or even a vagrant such as Common Snipe or Gray-tailed Tattler, and the town of Barrow attracts vagrant landbirds from both the North American and Siberian sides. There is even an outside chance of a Polar Bear. Nights in Utqiagvik.

Day 15: After another full morning’s birding at Utqiagvik, we’ll catch a midday flight back to Anchorage. Night in Anchorage.

Day 16: The Utqiagvik Extension ends this morning in Anchorage.

2026 Narrative

The Pribilofs 

Birding in the Pribilof Islands combines a fantastic array of breeding birds in a remote setting with the chance to encounter stray birds from Asia. The windswept tundra, steep volcanic cliffs, sandy beaches, and grass-lined freshwater lakes make for a surprisingly dynamic mix of habitats for such a small and isolated island. This year’s pre-trip extension to the Pribilofs was blessed with mostly bright sunny skies with some atmospheric fog on some of the mornings that burned off by late morning. With all the sunshine the plants on the island were rapidly greening, and just over the course of our four-day visit the tundra colour palette shifted remarkably from a dun brown to a multicolored brown and green with quite a few flowering plants creating splashes of colour. Recent and unprecedented warming trends across the southern Bering Sea are unfortunately having a noticeable impact on the islands breeding seabirds, with large die-offs and nesting failures of many species over the past couple of seasons. This year though numbers of both Black and Red-legged Kittiwakes seemed to be quite robust, and the Common and Thick-billed Murre numbers seemed higher than last year as well.  

All of the expected breeding species were present and it is certainly hard to become tired of sitting and watching Thick-billed and Common Murres, Horned and Tufted Puffins, Crested, Least and Parakeet Auklets and Northern Fulmars all courting or preening on cliff ledges that are a scant 2-5 meters away at eye level. As if the alcids were not enough, the cliffs of the Pribilofs serve as the primary breeding area for the diminutive and beautiful Red-legged Kittiwake. Our daily and close-range studies of this species generally with Black-legged Kittiwakes in close proximity for comparison purposes was a highlight for many. Over the course of our several days on the island Rock Sandpipers, with their churring flight songs were near constant companions, outcompeted only by the ubiquitous Lapland Longspurs that seemed to be nearly everywhere in the island interior. The Pacific Wren population was reduced from prior years, likely due to the rather cold winter of 2025/26, but territorial birds were present in several of our most visited spots along the coasts and rockier slopes. As we always hope to do, we encountered a nice mix of vagrants too, with waterfowl such as Tundra Bean-Goose, Falcated Duck, Eurasian Wigeon and Tufted Ducks, shorebirds like Common Snipe, a couple of Black-headed Gulls and even a lovely passerine in the form of the island’s first Amur Stonechat on our last evening outing! 

Mammals were excellent around the island this year, with lots of Arctic Foxes (some still in their fluffy winter coats), sightings of the local Reindeer Herd near Antone Lake, a Pribilof Island Shrew up at Marunich (our first in several years) and daily sightings of Steller’s Sea Lions, Northern Fur and Harbour Seals, and even some migrating Grey Whales.  

The air carrier that had been bringing birders out to the islands for several years folded in the late summer of 2025. Other carriers put in bids, but the process for securing the contract drew out until quite early in 2026. Happily for us the airline that won the bid was Aleutian Airlines, a company with a long and good track record of working around the southern Bering Sea. Their planes are significantly larger and faster than the type flown out by Raven, with a remarkable amount of leg room. The faster plane and larger fuel tanks allow these Saab 2000’s to come out to Saint Paul Island without a refuelling stop, cutting over an hour from the old flight times! 

Our flight out this year was scheduled for the midday, and happily when we arrived at the airport, we were informed that the weather looked decent, and the flight was on time. We grabbed some to-go sandwiches for lunch and were soon on our way westwards, crossing the wilderness and still snow-covered peaks of the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta and then out over the remarkably cloud-free Bering near the small town of Togiak. After we arrived just before three, we accessed our luggage to gear up for some afternoon birding before dinner. Our goal on this first day was to do what the local guides on Saint Paul term the “rarity roundup”, where we seek out the potentially lingering known rare birds around the island. By far the most interesting of these was a truly stunning male Falcated Duck that had been found a few days prior to our arrival. The bird was apparently spending its days in some unknown pond in the island’s interior or remote coast, but each evening was returning to the small lake in town to roost. Since its arrival seemed to be generally around 11pm we decided to wait for that quest until later in the day. The tide in the nearby Salt Lagoon was quite low, so we elected to make our first stop there for our first instructive comparison views of Black and Red-legged Kittiwakes. Far from simply being a Black-legged Kittiwake with fancier footgear, the local Red-leggeds stand out by having darker grey mantles, a rounder head, a shorter and deeper yellow bill, a noticeably larger eye and smoky-dark underwings. By the time we walked back to the van I think most people were confidently picking them out of the flock; even without seeing their namesake crimson legs. The north side of the lagoon was hosting quite a few birds as well, and picking through the flock we found the two lingering Black-headed Gulls (sadly without full dark hoods), as well as a handsomely marked breeding plumage Wandering Tattler.  

After the Salt Lagoon we headed over to Pumphouse Lake for a marsh stop around the well vegetated lake margins in the hope of locating a snipe. Our quest was quite successful, with our volunteer walkers flushing a single Snipe that obligingly flew back across the lake close to our position. Once the flushers arrived at the landing spot the bird kicked up again and circled us overhead, resulting in decent flight views of the bird which clearly showed the white wingbars in the underwing that marked the bird as a Common Snipe. Both Common and Wilson’s Snipe are annual in spring migration out in the Pribilofs, although most years Common is the dominant species, with some individuals occasionally lingering weeks and even winnowing over the marshes. The pond held a few Northern Pintail, Green-winged Teal and Long-tailed Ducks, as well as a pair of Greater White-fronted Geese which is an uncommon migrant in the Pribilofs.  

Leaving Pumphouse behind we then returned to the airport to fully check into our rooms (as several of them were not ready upon arrival) and after dinner headed up to Northeast Point to see if there were any interesting birds around the tip of the island. In Webster Lake (the only major water body around the peninsula) we were surprised by the number of pairs of Greater Scaup; a species that has only been breeding on the island for a few years, but one that seems to be doing remarkably well here. Among the Greaters we found a pair of Lessers, which is quite a scarce species for the Pribilofs; although admittedly likely not the kind of vagrant most participants dream of while on the island. The nearby beach, dubbed Webster Seawatch by local birders produced fine views of Rock Sandpiper and a loafing flock of Harlequin Ducks, but oddly no Loons or Scoters, which both seemed quite scarce (absent) this year during our visit. These Rock Sandpipers are paler and larger than the other three subspecies, and breed only on the central Bering Sea Islands of the Pribilofs and Saint Matthew and Hall to the north. Spending their winters on the giant tidal flats along the Cook Inlet these birds seem quite different to the more widespread mainland subspecies that winter far to the south, and were in fact originally described as a separate species.  

Driving out to the very end of the Peninsula allowed us access to the isolated Hutchinson Hill; a small cinder cone that just a few hundred years ago was actually the core of a different island adjacent to Saint Paul that is now connected via the stabilized dune network of Novastoshnya. Here the local guides have constructed quite an impressive “forest” inside a deep scoria cut, with a random brushpile of driftwood branches and shipping pallets all stacked up in the center of the area, and ample bird seed sprinkled around the area. Although no vagrant birds were using the provided shelter or food, we were able to study in good detail about a half-dozen handsome Grey-crowned Rosyfinches and several starch-white and jet-black Snow Buntings that were coming in to feast on the proffered seeds. Much like the wrens on the island the Rosyfinches here are larger than those on the mainland, with a markedly different (and brighter) plumage and a different breeding biology. After scouring the cut, we walked a bit around the hill, taking in the views of a few hundred Northern Fur Seals and a small group of Steller’s Sea Lions that were hauled up along the coast. Although still quite early in the year for the fur seals to be breeding we spotted several groups of freshly arrived females being guarded by a couple of particularly large beachmaster males.  

Returning from Northeast Point we stopped at the hotel for a comfort break and then went into town to await the arrival (hopefully) of the Falcated Duck. To our great relief he flew in right on cue, slightly after 11pm. The bird quickly settled in to his surroundings and joined a group of Northern Pintail that were dabbling along the edge. We moved over to a much closer vantage point and drank in the views of this beautifully pattered duck in the late evening sun. The first North American record of this species was on nearby Saint George Island in 1962, and since then the bird has occurred only 5 times on the island. We filled up our camera memory card with images of the birds elongated scapular feathers, bright brassy-green head, grey spangled breast and flanks and white and black neck collar from a makeshift blind of an abandoned car parked next to a weather-beaten house. While watching the duck we also found a Bank Swallow and a (North American) Barn Swallow hawking insects over the pond. Elated by our finds on the first day but a bit tired due to the late hour we went back to the hotel to turn in for the night, very much looking forward to our next 2 and a half days exploring the island.  

Our first full day on the island dawned with a light but persistent North wind under bright blue skies. As we customarily do on this first morning, we began with a visit to one of the coastal seabird cliffs that ring much of the southwestern side of the island. A bit west of town we stopped at a small parking area and walked down to a promontory on the top of a low band of sea-cliffs (dubbed Tourist Point by the locals). Here we were soon engrossed in soaking in views of our first Least, Crested and Parakeet Auklets, Thick-billed and Common Murres, Red-faced Cormorants and Northern Fulmars as they prospected nest sites or put the finishing touches on their newly constructed nests. The first week of June is quite early in most of these species’ breeding cycles, and although the number of individuals was still fairly low (compared to what one would expect in mid-summer) the expected species were all present, and many were wonderfully close and near eye-level providing excellent photographic opportunities. It is hard to become tired of sitting and watching the gaudy procession of seabirds courting or preening on cliff ledges that are a scant 5 meters away at eye level. As if the alcids were not enough the cliffs of the Pribilofs serve as the primary breeding area for the diminutive and beautiful Red-legged Kittiwake, with several nests very close to our chosen vantage point. We lingered on the clifftop for about an hour, but eventually the cold wind began to penetrate the outer layers of our gear. We decided to warm up in the van on the drive over to the Southwest tip of the island where the most recent lava flows (roughly 2500) years ago have created a lovely black boulder encrusted point with small tidepools. Loafing on the point were more Harlequin Ducks and a couple of Red-legged Kittwakes that were really showing off their feet to excellent effect. Here too was an impressively large Fur Seal male that kept a wary eye on us as we watched dozens of Northern Fulmars foraging in the rough waters just off the point.  

A check of Antone Lake and Slough, where we found the water levels quite a bit higher than usual didn’t produced anything particularly notable with the exception of a pair of displaying Least Sandpipers. I suspect though that my crossing of the muddy and quite deep slough using a narrow and half-sunken bridge kept the group entertained for a bit. While walking back up to the van though one of this years USFWS biotechs stopped to show us a photo of a Tundra Bean-Goose that she had just taken over in Polovina Lake. Her identification was accurate, so we quickly hurried over to scan the large lake from the road. Our initial scans failed to produce any geese, but over in the far back corner we noticed a dark shape tucked into the marsh. I walked out and as I got a little closer the shape resolved into a female Northern Pintail tucked in with another bird that proved to be our male Falcated Duck! With the mystery of its daytime haunts solved I walked back to the vans and just before we left was alerted by the other group of birders on the island that two or three geese had just dropped in to the very back section of marsh. Luis walked out to the back corner and managed to find an angle into the grasses where he could clearly make out the Bean and two Greater White-fronts. He then flushed the birds towards the road, and happily for us they landed on one of the central grassy islands in the middle of the lake; settling in nicely and allowing us to enjoy extended scope views. This was only our second sighting of this bulbous headed and dark-billed species over our last ten spring trips out to the Pribilofs and gave us a bit of a spring in our step as we drove into town to grab lunch at the recently reopened Trident Seafood Plant. Historically this site was where we had all of our meals, but with the crash in the Bering Sea crab industry the plant had been shuttered for the last seven or eight years. Due to a largescale harbour dredging and improvement project ongoing this year though the plant has reopened, with the chef providing food for the several dozen construction workers and a small group of people who were preparing the facility to resume processing seafood later in the summer or early fall. Visiting birders were able to use the facility too, which certainly saved the local guides a lot of extra work preparing meals up at the hotel (as they have done since the plant closed down).  

Once sated by the generously ample buffet we walked across the street to take a close look at a very tame Arctic Fox and a few nesting pairs of Red-faced Cormorants that were making the finishing touches on their grassy nests on an adjacent cliff. Most birders generally don’t look too carefully at cormorants, but these large birds sport scarlet cheeks, blue gapes and a bright yellow bill, paired with a dashing double crest and huge white flank patches and all accentuating their rather glossy bodies which glisten with undertones of bronze, green and purple depending on the quality and angle of the lighting conditions. We then drove a short distance southwards along Reef Point where we spent another hour or so taking in breeding seabirds that were using a rocky cliff face which is covered in bright yellow lichens (a most excellent backdrop for photos). Scanning out to the south we were happy to find a dozen or so hulking Steller’s Sea Lions hauled out on the appropriately named Sea Lion Rock (the smallest of the five Pribilof Islands). Although the male Fur Seals seem large close up (and indeed can weigh upwards of 600lbs) Steller’s males can top 2000 pounds and are truly impressive animals. While at Reef we also walked down to a dedicated blind that is set up in the center of a Northern Fur Seal Colony to get a bit close to some beachmaster males that were snoozing in the rocks close to the shoreline, likely waiting for the arrival of the female seals (which typically happens in mid to late June). Their various grunts and snorts would likely be misconstrued as insulting to a Chewbacca, and we were close enough to see that even with their thick blubber layers around their necks many of the males had noticeable recent wounds from their territorial battles with adjacent animals. A Pacific Wren played hide and seek with us here, eventually settling down atop a nearby rock and uttering its cascade of bubbly notes. The Wren is of particular interest as they are resident in the Pribilofs, spending the cold and dark winters foraging in the intertidal zone, and breeding mostly in crevices in the cliff faces. Larger and paler than mainland Pacific Wrens and possessing a forcep-like long bill and broad eyeline they look quite different than “normal” Pacific Wrens and seem to be slowly evolving into a unique sort of coastal Canyon Wren.  

Just before dinner we walked through the main batch of largely abandoned crab pots that line the road near Icehouse Lake. These tall rows of impressively large crab traps serve as a makeshift forest for wayward songbirds, and although we didn’t turn up any rarities, we did enjoy multiple views of chatty Gray-crowned Rosy-Finches, here of the abnormally large and colorful Pribilof subspecies. Across the street in the lagoon, we found a snoozing female King Eider sitting on a small rock just offshore. It proved to be her favorite perch, and over the subsequent few days we regularly saw her having a rest.  

Given our lengthy birding day upon arrival, we decided to not try anything too taxing after dinner, electing to once again head up to Northeast Point for a quick check of Hutchinson Hill and Webster Lake. This trip up involved a bit of fog which prevented us from seeing too far out to sea or even out into the lake, but we still managed to find a migrant Ruddy Turnstone on the flanks of the Hill, a pair of migrating Pacific Golden-Plovers along the road and a hunting Short-eared Owl that was being chased by three quite determined Redpolls out in the grassy fields of Novastoshnya.  

The next day dawned with a bit more fog, though it cleared rather quickly through the morning and by the afternoon was only a distant memory. We again started the day with visits to the seabird cliffs, this time starting at Reef and then heading out to Ridge Wall. On this day we found Crested Auklets to be more confiding, with several close birds showing off their ridiculously shaggy crests which overhang their wide and bright orange bills. In combination with their rather pot-bellied silhouette and somewhat gangly blue-grey legs one could be forgiven in thinking that the whole bird was created by Dr. Suess in a moment of creative inspiration. A few closer perched Tufted and Horned Puffins kept us entertained for quite some time as they sat outside their chosen rock crevices surveying the ocean below. Also here, we tracked down a pair of strikingly patterned Ancient Murrelets that paddled slowly along the shoreline below our vantage point. This is the rarest of the eight species of breeding alcids on the island with breeding confirmed only in 2003, and annual high counts only in the few dozen individuals.  

Along the road out to Southwest Point we stopped to admire a large flock of Harlequin Ducks that were resting in the rocks near Zapadnie Beach, and spent a bit more time watching the antics of the Northern Fur Seals. We again found Antone Slough to be devoid of migrant shorebirds, but the small pond in the back of the marsh looked ripe for visitors, and the long set of branches that we pulled out of the grass will soon be gracing the cut up at Hutchinson Hill, hopefully hosting something interesting for some other group of birders. In Icehouse Lake we were surprised to see two female plumaged Bufflehead swimming around, our only sighting of this generally rare species for the island this trip (where do they go?). Our last new species for the morning outing was furnished by an adult Long-tailed Jaeger that flew right over the Trident Parking Lot, with its namesake trailing tail feathers on full display. 

For our afternoon outing on the second full day we took advantage of the fact that no new birds were popping up at the regular spots and decided to use the fancier all-wheel drive van to journey up to the most remote corner of the island. The long “road” there passes through lots of grassy tundra and skirts a couple of high volcanic cinder cones before reaching a small lake near the Northwestern tip of the island. This marked the first time a WINGS tour had ever been to the location and indeed was only the second time even the local guides had been out there in the last three years! The lake is situated right on the western edge of Lincoln Bight; a shallow marine bay with rocky headlands which is often productive for loafing flocks of eiders and scoters. Since the area is checked so irregularly there aren’t too many historical records of note there, though the islands only record of Spoon-billed Sandpiper occurred there back in August of 1989. We stopped a few times on the drive out to check out a few wildflowers and an impressive rack (and skull) of one of the local reindeer. After about 50 minutes on the road we were greeted by a rather cheerful sign welcoming us to Saint Paul Island that had been propped up on the entrance gate to the section of the island managed by USFWS. Shortly after the gate we parked and walked up to the lake, finding the muddy and largely open edge to be nearly perfect for shorebirds. Only a few Rock Sandpipers were about, but it was easy to imagine that during the prior week when shorebirds were really moving in the Bering that the lake had hosted something of note. Hundreds of Kittiwakes were loafing about in the lake, bathing or gathering grass along the edge for their nests. Only one duck was present too, but happily it was a nicely marked male Eurasian Wigeon. A small private cabin near the lake had been recently rebuilt and looked a homey spot to spent a couple of days away from the busy hustle and bustle of town. The fog lifted while we were here, allowing us to spend a bit of time watching the flocks of Kittiwakes, passing Puffins and Fulmar and the occasional Red-faced or Pelagic Cormorant flying by along the coast. Heading back to the main road we also diverted to nearby Marunich, a spot roughly in the middle of the north coast where another (much smaller) pond sits across from a picturesque sandy beach flanked by rocky headlands and often harbouring a significant amount of drying kelp deposited by the prevailing currents. We checked a few boards that were buried in the grasses near the carpark and were thrilled to turn up a somewhat cooperative Pribilof Island Shrew scuttling underneath. This tiny predator is endemic to Saint Paul, and although they are relatively common in the sandier areas of the island it is not something that is often encountered by people visiting for just a few days. With our sighting of Reindeer earlier in the day this little mammal completed the sweep of regularly possible mammals around the island! The pond was hosting a few Rock Sandpipers that seemed intent on bathing despite the steady winds. Out to sea we scoped a few more Pelagic Cormorants and some loafing flocks of Harlequin Ducks and Horned Puffins as we walked a bit along the shore, doing a bit of beachcoming and botanizing on the way. 

In the evening, we started off by visiting Kaminista, a large rock quarry and collapsed lava tube not too far from the airport that generally has some sheltered spots and cover in all but the strongest winds. As we entered the quarry we flushed a small bird from a rapidly drying pond that proved to be an American Pipit (a scarce but regular spring migrant here). It thankfully landed again near the side of the road, allowing us a good enough view to ensure that the bird was not one of the recently split Siberian Pipits. Our walk up in the upper cut of the quarry was filled with the local passerines all busily setting up territories or foraging around in the rocks. At one point we were surrounded by birdsong, with all four local passerines joining in to create the closest thing to a dawn chorus (at night) as possible. We then checked the small patch of crab pots that have been dumped into the edge of the quarry due to their owners becoming delinquent on payments or aging out of use. Although small, this grove of pots has been productive over the years, and on this occasion we flushed a small and furtive brown bird that shot around the back of the rows, staying low and generally avoiding us immensely well. We spent some time trying to locate it around the pots and large rock piles to no avail. Hoping that it might return if we gave it a bit of time we went up to a high sand dune that overlooks English Bay. This vantage point allowed us to scan two small melt ponds along the beach which held a (rare for the Pribs) male Mallard and two more Greater White-fronted Geese. The long sandy beach here was hosting impressive numbers of Black-legged Kittiwakes and Glaucous Gulls that were feasting on some abundant food resource (perhaps fish eggs) that was washing up on the shoreline. Our return visit to the pots yielded no small brown bird, but as we were driving out of the area a sharp-eyed participant noted a small black and white passerine perched along the road edge. It turned out to be quite a find as it was a striking male Amur Stonechat! This boldly patterned species had never before been recorded on Saint Paul Island (with the only prior Pribilof record coming from Saint George in the fall of 2025). The bird was a bit flighty, but repeatedly perched up on prominent celery stalks, rocks or even the road edge, showing well in the scopes as we chased it about a bit obtaining documentary photos. Eventually it headed up the slopes of nearby Telegraph Hill, seemingly never to be seen again. Elated with our prize we headed back to the hotel for a well-deserved rest while for those birders on the island who were not part of our group an unsuccessful chase ensued that lasted well into the wee hours. Happily though, the bird was refound the next morning and lingered at least into the following day.  

Our final day on the island was again initially foggy, but eventually became sunny around the airport, and we spent our time productively, with a return visit to the seabird cliffs, where we found the cliffs to be markedly busier with birds. We estimated well over a thousand murres and good numbers of Auklets up on the cliffs or loafing in flocks on the water below. We were particularly thrilled to spot a half-dozen or so Tufted and a few Horned Puffins perched along some of the ledges. The flyby (and perched) views of both Kittiwakes were excellent as always, offering the visiting birder ample opportunity to study the many differences between the two species beyond their namesake foot colour. We then dutifully checked a litany of locations to see if any other new migrant species had dropped in, before checking out of the hotel, having lunch and checking in for the flight. Our final stop was more for scenery and geology, as we drove up to the top of Lake Hill. This short and winding road climbs the southern slope of a wide cinder cone, before dropping into a fairly old caldera (complete with a small lake and gravel quarry) and then ascending to the top of the hill where the FAA has installed a series of radar equipment to help planes not stray into Russian airspace. From this perch we enjoyed a sweeping view of the center of the island, and also the picture-perfect crater lake that gives the hill its name. All too soon we had to return to the airport to load up for the return flight, taking off and leaving behind a beautiful and remote speck of land that so few people in the world have been able to enjoy. 

MAIN TOUR

NOME

Our main Majesty tour started off with an early morning flight to Nome; a long famous birding location and historically interesting town situated along the southern coast of the Seward Peninsula. This gold-rush era boomtown retains a very frontier-like feel, with local gold panners dredging along the shoreline, and a seemingly endless number of saloon options. A recent discovery channel program exploring the vagaries and vicissitudes of gold dredging has resulted in a decided uptick in the number of small private gold dredging rafts offshore, adding to the frontier-like feel. Three unpaved roads snake their way out into the tundra, offering about 250 miles of road to explore through stunning mountains, over rushing salmon-choked streams, along willow/alder clad drainages and up into alpine tundra which is usually liberally decorated with an array of wildflowers in mid-June. We arrived in the mid-morning to sunny but cold conditions, and after picking up our vans that were conveniently left for us by the first Majesty Tour headed a bit into town. Our first stop was along the road just before town at a small marsh known as the Dry Creek Wetlands. Here we enjoyed a nice selection of birds that would soon become quite familiar to us during out time around Nome. Pairs of Northern Pintail, Green-winged Teal and Long-tailed Ducks paddled around the marsh while Wilson’s Snipe, Red-necked Phalarope, Arctic Tern and Least and Western Sandpipers worked the edges and red stained Sandhill Cranes plied the back of the marsh. We then headed to the hotel to drop off our luggage and get all our birding and warmer weather gear out in preparation for some birding around town before lunch. Our first stop was to the small Nome Cemetery, where a few dozen trees have been planted among the graves, offering some shelter to visiting and local passerines. We were surprised to find a full bird feeder at one of the grave sites that was being visited by a seemingly endless number of Redpoll. We spent a bit of time looking at the birds as they squabbled at the feeder, noting pale and pink coloured Hoary types, streaky and carmine-coloured Common Types, and everything in between (this is a lump that I can get behind). The area held lots of American Robins and a pair of handsome and quite cooperative Pacific Golden-Plovers wandering around the grassier parts between the rows of grave markers. Here too we teased up a very vocal Red Fox Sparrow that sat obligingly in one of the small trees, and spent a bit of time going over the identification features of in-flight Red-throated Loons.  

Some nearby ponds held a pair of Red-necked Grebe and nesting Short-billed Gulls as well as very vocal Northern Yellow Warblers and Northern Waterthrush. Near the high school we stopped to admire a small herd of Muskox were grazing on the greened-up grasses around the headstones. These shaggy beasts are a holdover from the Pleistocene, perhaps the last remaining megafauna species that somehow avoided the spears that took out their larger relatives such as mammoth and mastodon when people crossed over the Bering land Bridge. The population in the Seward Peninsula was reintroduced (from Arctic Canada) over a hundred years ago, and the animals are doing very well. Seeing them shuffling along amongst parked on construction equipment was a trifle incongruous, but over the course of the next few days we would encounter many more herds out in the tundra where, against a sweeping tundra backdrop with scattered clumps of wildflowers and snow-capped peaks, one could be forgiven for thinking that we were on a set for a Jane Auel inspired movie. Eventually the babies and their attendant parents wandered off into a willow thicket, so we headed back into town for lunch.  

After our meal the rooms were ready for us to check into, so a quick return to the hotel allowed us to get better situated. During a short break Ben did a rapid and successful reconnaissance trip to the neighborhood behind the hotel. Following his lead we walked a few blocks back and were soon staring at a pair of White Wagtails as they perched up on roadside wires or along the road. This is a scarce breeder in North America which is generally found only around a few coastal Seward Peninsula towns such as Teller (80 miles to the NW) and Wales, and out on Saint Lawrence Island, and although seemingly on the increase around the area is still quite a rare find in Nome. A bit to the east of town we stopped at a small roadside pond with an abandoned gold dredge semi-submerged along a short boardwalk. This platform allowed us to get very close to a stunning Red-throated Loon that was sitting on its grassy nest just below our vantage point. As one participant remarked “I see Red-throated Loons every winter, but seeing them like this, in their subtle but stunning breeding plumage is like getting a life bird.” Several Red-necked Phalarope and Western and Least Sandpipers showed well here too, and behind the dredge we managed to coax out views of a responsive but flighty pair of Eastern Yellow Wagtails. Nearby we were startled to spot a Thick-billed Murre that was sitting on the beach, seemingly happily having a preen. Murres breed on nearby Sledge Island, but generally are only seen in flight and at distance in Nome. Initially we were concerned that the bird might be ill, but it rowed off back to sea and all indications were that it was too heavy from feeding to properly fly.  

Continuing East, we stopped in at the Nome River mouth, where the snowmelt and relatively high tide meant that there was not much exposed mud around the bridge. Nevertheless, we had a good time scanning the area, picking up a couple of stunning Pacific Golden-Plovers that were strutting around the drier sections of marsh, a single immature Vega Gull (oddly our only one for the Nome section of the tour) and our first views of a couple of pairs of Aleutian Terns that were tucked into the grasses on one of the small islands near the beach. These small and unique terns are more closely related to the suite of tropical terns such as Bridled and Sooty than they are to Arctic Tern. The species breeds at only a handful of known locations around the margins of the eastern Bering Sea and spend their winters at sea somewhere in the South Pacific or Indian Oceans, thus making Nome perhaps the most accessible site in the world for the species. We returned to the river mouth later after dinner, this time spotting our first (of many) Brant, a couple of male Willow Ptarmigan (which were incredibly abundant this year), at least seven Bar-tailed Godwits and a pair of hunting Long-tailed Jaegers. Although we didn’t get farther than just a mile or so out of town on this first day, we had a wealth of birds to mull over as we drifted off to sleep; eager to check out more of the Nome road network the next day. 

We began the next day back at the Nome River Mouth, where the tide seemed especially low, exposing large swaths of mud for foraging Shorebirds to explore. Among the more common species we picked out two handsome Red Knots, a few Bar-tailed Godwits and our first Long-billed Dowitchers. A bit upstream of the bridge we found a Cackling Goose, several Sandhill Cranes and a pair of Pacific Golden-Plovers out in the marshy grasses. There wasn’t much else obviously about though, so after taking a bit of time to photograph a cooperative Gray-cheeked Thrush that was singing from a telephone wire we headed further to the East. A bit past Derby Creek we stopped to watch two Hudsonian Whimbrels as they stalked their way through the tundra a bit below the road. This species was recently recognized as specifically distinct from the old-world whimbrel, and is a regular breeder around Nome. A bit further East we found that the rock quarry at Cape Nome was very active this year, with the heavy trucks carrying loads of rock out to the point. This meant that we couldn’t access the actual point as we often do, and with the flagpeople stationed at either end of the peninsula we basically had no ability to stop along the edge of the cape either during working hours. Near the base of the point on the Safety Sound side, we pulled out into a small parking area just outside of the work zone and were able to scan the waters, picking up a few Common Eider and Black Scoter, as well as passing Common Murres and a small flock of Long-tailed Ducks.  

Eventually we reached the actual Safety Sound where we stopped frequently to check out flocks of birds on the lagoon shores or just offshore in Norton Sound. Safety Sound plays hosts to large numbers of waterbirds and shorebirds throughout much of the year and always holds enough diversity to occupy visiting birders for days. One small tidal lake held our interest for quite some time, with several dozen shorebirds foraging unconcernedly just a few feet away from our cameras and scopes. Most were Western or Semipalmated Sandpipers, but we picked out a few Dunlin, a Long-billed Dowitcher, and several Semipalmated Plovers. A passing Peregrine Falcon scattered the birds as it coursed overhead, rapidly disappearing eastwards down the shoreline. As we headed east ourselves, we began to see flocks of Black Brant, American Wigeon, with one drake Eurasian cousin, Northern Pintail, Red-breasted Mergansers, Common Eider (here of the bright orange billed pacific subspecies) and Greater Scaup dotting the shoreline. Jaegers too were much in evidence, with impressive numbers of Long-tailed and Parasitic plying the grassy tundra along the coast. Presumably the local vole population must be experiencing a boom this year, as along with the jaegers we also saw several hunting Short-eared Owls pouncing on hapless rodents. Just past the final checkpoint for the Iditarod, we found one small lake to be heaving with birds. Over two dozen Jaegers and an incredible 40 Sabine’s Gulls were feasting on something along the lake edge, offering amazingly close-range views as they completely ignored our arrival. Sabine’s are surely the world’s most attractive gull with their charcoal cowls, ruby eyerings, delicate yellow-tipped black bills and multi-hued wings that blatantly defy the groups normal palette of gray and white. While watching the gulls we completed the Jaeger sweep when a heavy-chested Pomarine Jaeger cruised by, eliciting some agitation from the masses of perched Long-taileds. At the channel beyond the bridge where the Safety Sound water enters Norton Sound we enjoyed point-blank views of Pacific and Red-throated Loons, dozens of Red-necked and Red Phalaropes bobbing about in the rough water off the sand spit, both Ruddy and Black Turnstones plying the drying kelp rack along the beach and excellent views of loafing Harlequin Ducks and a lone Tufted Puffin that flew down the coast.  

The eastern half of the lagoon is generally shallower, and this year was hosting impressive numbers of foraging Tundra Swans and Brant. Among the throngs of larger waterfowl we were thrilled to spot a pair of Emperor Geese flying in with a large flock of Brant. Although the birds didn’t perch for us our views were lengthy, and their chunky silvery-grey bodies and white heads really made them stand out against the much darker Brant. Historically this section of the lagoon has been good for Arctic Loon, but sightings have dried up a bit in recent years, and we had to content ourselves with more Red-throated and Pacifics swimming amidst the many grassy islands. An Aleutian Tern colony seems to be established again at an old site near the far east end of the lagoon, and we were able to spend some time with nearly a dozen individuals as they perched on the road or atop adjacent piles of driftwood. Passing cars would flush them periodically, making the birds circle overhead as they uttered their oddly un-tern like chirping calls. Also in this stretch of road we turned up a single Common Merganser (a species that we do not see in the Nome area particularly often) sitting amongst its surprisingly smaller Red-breasted cousins.  

We took a pleasant picnic lunch at the famous train to nowhere, a rusty old train that was originally an elevated people mover in Chicago before being sold to ply the tundra between Nome and Council. A storm cut the small bridge out leaving the train stranded, and it soon sunk into the marshy tundra, never to move again. Our time was punctuated by some displaying Semipalmated Sandpipers that were hovering overhead and giving their rolling songs, as well as a single Pectoral Sandpiper, some very approachable Red-necked Phalaropes and a flyover Osprey. As we were readying to depart a large flock of Brant appeared to the east and with them was another Emperor Goose. This flock passed us and then did a U-turn, giving us another lengthy flight view as they circled the beach a few times.  

Leaving the coast behind we headed inland and uphill, stopping at a small bridge over the Solomon River to track down a calling Arctic Warbler. This Phylloscopus warbler is the only old world warbler species that breeds in North America, making it the only true warbler in the hemisphere (as the North American species that bear the warbler name belong in an entirely different family to the “original” European species). We found several birds in the area (and throughout the rest of our time in Nome) which was a tad surprising given the early date. Traditionally Arctics pour into the Nome area around June 8-10, and are suddenly seemingly everywhere. For whatever reason they returned over a week earlier this year, with birds on territory by the first of June. Nearby we were successful at finding an adult Northern Shrike that we had first located during the Gambell-Nome tours day on the Council Road. The bird initially stayed well away from us, but eventually came in and perched at a close enough distance that we could make out the fine vermiculations on its underparts! The dense willow and alder thickets further up the valley also supported lots of Northern Waterthrush, Grey-cheeked Thrush, and Northern Yellow and Wilson’s Warblers. A bit further uphill along the East Fork of the Solomon River we stopped again, this time to look for a nesting pair of Gyrfalcon that have returned to the area after a several year hiatus. Unfortunately, word had apparently gotten out about their exact whereabouts, and a pair of photographers were sitting virtually under the nest waiting for the adults to return. We took a lengthy scope view of the fuzzy white chicks from a respectful distance and then backed off, lamenting the selfish behavior that bird photographers (and sometimes birders) can exhibit. The parking area here was excellent as well, with a nicely perched male Northern Wheatear, a very active Say’s Phoebe and a perched Golden-crowned Sparrow. The Wheatear is an elegantly marked species clad in silver-grey, white and black that breeds in rocky windswept places. After finishing their breeding cycle in Alaska, the birds make an incredible migration back across Asia, the middle east and then over the Sahara Desert to reach their wintering grounds in eastern Sub-Saharan Africa!  

We continued on further up the road to see if we could reach the higher elevation stony tundra around Skookum Pass, some 20 miles inland from the end of the Safety Sound. The sweeping tundra views here were superlative, made even better by the general lack of wind (which can often be intense here) and the profusion of wildflowers beginning to poke up out of the rocky slopes. After admiring a pair of dainty American Golden-Plovers and taking some obligatory tourist photos we headed back towards the Solomon River, stopping first at a likely willow patch where it took only a minute or two to detect a calling Bluethroat. It took a while longer to actually track the singer down, but eventually we were rewarded with multiple scope views of at least two males perching atop the willows and occasionally sallying way up into the air in a spirited song display. Bluethroats are a simply exquisite species, with a throat that would make even the brightest hummingbird jealous, and always function as a highlight for a visiting birder in Nome. They are a vocal and obvious member of the local avifauna for the first few weeks after they arrive from their wintering grounds in Southeast Asia. Once nesting though (which generally happens in mid-June) they become virtually silent and rather than boisterously launching themselves into the air and then fluttering down on outstretched wings spend much of their time lurking quietly in the dense thickets of willows that line drainages in the tundra. After enjoying the show we headed back downhill, revisiting the Gyrfalcon nest; this time from a higher vantage point. The photographers had thankfully left, but the chicks were still on their own. We scanned the adjacent hillsides and were elated to spot both parents perched on rocky outcrops. One bird took off and flew past our position before alighting on a bare slope across the river. The other parent lingered on its chosen perch, looking every bit the perfect subject for a landscape bird portrait.  

Back along Safety Sound we paused to watch an immature Bald Eagle that was scavenging on what appeared to be a seal carcass in the lagoon. Bald Eagles are scarce around Nome, and this was actually only the second one we had ever recorded on the Seward Peninsula. We studied it carefully to make sure we weren’t dealing with a vagrant White-tailed, which could also occur in the region. Though the Eagle’s chosen meal didn’t look particularly tasty to us it did remind us that we too were due for some comestibles, so we left it to its seal, and headed into town for the night.  

On our second full day, we took the Kougarok Road which heads inland from Nome, initially following the Nome River before passing through a mixture of alpine passes, open tundra with large lakes, and huge craggy mountains. This road has always felt the wildest of the three roads to me, and is generally the one that I think back on after trips. On this occasion it soon became apparent that 2026 was an excellent year for Ptarmigan, with over thirty Willow Ptarmigan appearing along the roadside without any particular effort to scan further out over the tundra. Snowshoe Hares were about as well, making it highly likely that the local Lynx population will soon be on the upswing as well. A bit out of town we stopped to look at a traditionally active Golden Eagle nest that sits well above the road. We couldn’t see any obvious signs of activity but the adult could well have been tucked down into its impressive nest (at least 15 feet high and a dozen feet wide at this point). Everywhere we stopped on the way up to Salmon Lake revealed passerines busily establishing territories, here a Wilson’s or Northern Yellow Warbler, there a White-crowned Sparrow or Grey-cheeked Thrush.  

We arrived at Salmon Lake in good time, although the weather seemed to be taking a change for the worse, with dropping temperatures, increasing wind and low hanging cloud. For the past few weeks birding groups had been reporting a pair of Yellow-billed Loons somewhere out on the lake (which was now fully open). We walked out to the edge, skirting passed a remarkably nonplussed male Willow Ptarmigan and began scanning the reaches of the lake. Amazingly we found one member of the pair slowly paddling just below us! Even more amazingly the bird continued heading our way, eventually ending up just a hundred feet or so offshore! Seeing this large and striking loon at such a close range was truly special, as the species is often quite wary around people. Without a doubt it was the bird of the day for most of the participants, and thinking back I don’t think that I have ever seen one so well over any of my previous forty-some odd Alaska tours. Perhaps due to the markedly colder and windier weather on the morning we also found some grounded migrant birds that we typically don’t see inland including a flock of 17 Sabine’s Gulls flying over the lake and several Ruddy Turnstones and a group of Western Sandpipers foraging on the edge of the melting ice floes.  

Leaving the loon to its devices and skirting the still territorial and somewhat indignant Willow Ptarmigan we headed to the Salmon Lake picnic grounds where we found that due to “budget cuts” at the BLM the normally very well stocked and received toilet block was closed. We made do with the surrounding greenery as a privacy shield and then spent a bit of time looking at some of the more common “bush” birds of the Seward Peninsula in the adjacent roadside willow scrub. Perhaps the best species here was a very territorial American Tree Sparrow that conveniently perched up atop some close bushes, but here we also encountered Golden-crowned and Red Fox Sparrows, Wilson’s and Yellow Warblers and Gray-cheeked Thrushes.  

Once we finished photographing and ogling the various bush birds we left Salmon Lake behind and headed further north bound for our main location for the day out near Kilometer marker 72. We made a few stops at various roadside lakes along the way, picking up things like our first Rusty Blackbird, several pairs of curious Cackling Geese, a rather furtive Varied Thrush, our first Red-necked Grebes and Northern Harriers, an Osprey perched on the Kuzatrin River Bridge and a busy colony of Cliff Swallows. With all the stopping it was close to lunchtime by the time we arrived at the trailhead. We could see another birding group coming down the slope back to the road so we decided to set up a slightly early picnic lunch and get the news on the group’s success (or lack thereof) before heading up the hill ourselves. When the other group arrived, we were somewhat crestfallen to hear that they had been roaming the hill for over three hours without success. 2026 seems to be a somewhat dry looking year with lots of winter snow rapidly melting and leaving the hillsides oddly crispy. The Bristle-thigheds arrived in the area on time, and during our Nome-Gambell tour we found a pair on the hill quite close to the car. On this occasion though, and despite making the hike up and searching the entire ‘normal’ breeding grounds and sending Ben on an epically long series of concentric circles well out to the west of the normal area we too failed to locate any curlews. The views from the top though were incredible, with sweeping tundra and rolling hills in the foreground and high snowy mountains and distant untrammeled lakes in the background in all directions; a view that more than justifies the traveling birder’s drive to “get out there”. 

Once back down at the cars we grabbed some conciliatory snacks and then slowly made our way back towards Nome. A stop at a spectacular alpine lake revealed a couple of pairs of Greater White-fronted Geese, nesting Red-necked Grebes sitting on their grassy bowers, and pairs of distant Tundra Swans and Pacific Loons. A little further down the road we stopped to admire another herd of Muskox, and this time noticed that the animals had recently walked through some roadside willows. The branches act like giant combs, and in the early summer when the animals are shedding these willows can be festooned with clumps of muskox hair. This hair, called qiviut in the local language can be spun into the warmest, and likely the most expensive yarn in the world (said to be eight times warmer than wool, and softer even then cashmere). We gathered a bit up to fondle and carried on towards Nome, stopping once more along a rushing stony creek where we connected with a pair of cooperative Wandering Tattlers, and a lovely male Harlequin Duck. By this point we were starting to run out of flex time before dinner, so we headed in, elated by the scenery and nice selection of birds (especially the point-blank Yellow-billed Loon) which seemed to more than make up for the hiccup with Bristle-thighed Curlew.  

Our flight back to Anchorage the next day was scheduled to take place in the early-evening this year, giving us almost another complete birding day to take advantage of. We made the most of our time, first heading eastwards along the Council Road out as far as the Safety Sound Bridge and then taking the Teller Road westward as far out as Woolly Lagoon. We couldn’t pass up another quick stop at the Nome River Mouth, and our efforts were rewarded once again with excellent views of several Bar-tailed Godwit, a sharp looking Red Knot and a few pairs of quite vocal Aleutian Terns. We then continued on, hoping that we could turn up some flocks of Scoters or perhaps even an Arctic Loon along the beaches of Safety Sound. A week before our visit there were large numbers of scoters rafting up on the coast, but during our dates these groups seemed to have moved on. We did enjoy the visit though, with an incredible 52 Sabine’s Gulls massing around the Safety Sound Bridge, our first Glaucous-winged Gull hiding amongst a flock of Glaucous Gulls, an amazingly close Pacific Loon that we were able to look directly down on as it paddled underneath the bridge and a single Double-crested Cormorant (a rarity on the Seward). After scanning another mile or so past the bridge we reversed course in order to visit the Teller Road. This less-travelled (by birders at any rate) road ventures to the West from Nome, eventually reaching the small subsistence town of Teller on the west coast of the peninsula. Our first stop was at the Sinuk River Bridge, where we located a pair of Spotted Sandpipers complete with their fully spotted underparts and carrot-orange bills. The surrounding tundra past the bridge held a couple of Bar-tailed Godwit and Hudsonian Whimbrel, as well as several hunting Short-eared Owls, which seemed unusually plentiful this year.  

We stopped heading westwards when we intersected with the newly refurbished Woolley Lagoon Road, which drops down to the coast and a small collection of hunting and fishing cabins owned by members of the King Island Native Corporation. The road parallels a rocky creek, and along the flat banks of the river we enjoyed repeated views of breeding Pacific Golden-Plovers and a pair of simply stunning Black-bellied Plover in its truly splendid summer plumage; a sharply dressed and bright sartorial affair that bears virtually no resemblance to the staid beige birds that most birders see on the wintering grounds. A few Long-tailed Jaegers were in the area as well, occasionally flying right past the car with their namesake tail streamers glinting in the sun. As was the case on the other roads this year we located an exceptional number of Willow Ptarmigan, with several pairs courting along the road. The other location along the Teller Road that we wanted to visit was a short unimproved side road that winds up to a rocky and open dry tundra ridge just a few miles shy of Woolly Lagoon. It’s an interesting habitat, with piles of lichen covered shale, pockets of crowberry and wildflowers and bare gravel. By the time we arrived up on the ridge the weather had definitely deteriorated, with buffeting winds and even a bit of light rain. We connected with our main quarry in the are in very short order, with a placidly sitting male Rock Ptarmigan performing amazingly well as it sat in the downwind shadow of a small boulder. With this vast improvement over our views of the male high up on a ridge along the Kougarok, we turned our attentions to a nearby pair of American Golden-Plovers that were busily trotting around in a field of wildflowers. A bit of indecision followed as our original plan of a picnic lunch really didn’t appeal given the weather conditions. A new plan was hatched to head back to town for a latish lunch in the warmth of indoors. A few folk wanted to visit the local artisan shop that specializes in native art and carvings after lunch as well. Once the shopping and dining had been accomplished it was time to fuel up the vans and finish packing up for our early evening flight back to Anchorage, which was thankfully on time. We had a little delay deplaning once we reached Anchorage due to an unusual and rather novel issue of a mismatched passenger manifest necessitating a physical head count as we disembarked! 

DENALI-FAIRBANKS 

We commenced the second leg of the main tour by headed out to nearby Kincaid Park, where in both 2024 and 2025 we had located an active American Three-toed Woodpecker nest. This 1500-acre park is largely wooded, with dozens of hiking and biking trails snaking around and the occasional open field for sports. The expansive forest serves as a home for a wide variety of wildlife including Moose, Black Bear and nearly all of the bird species found in the Anchorage bowl. When we arrived at the old nest site, we were astonished to find that, once again, the old nest cavity (in a utility pole along one of the lighted cross-country ski trails) was occupied, and we were treated to views of both the male and female woodpecker coming in with food or departing with fecal sacs to their quite vocal young. Birding around the trail system was productive too, both in birding terms and in providing nice meals for the local mosquito population. Likely the most well received birds here were the group of nearly a dozen White-winged Crossbills that were foraging on the cone crops just above the trail. One particularly handsome rose-red male showed well in the scopes, and we were able to watch him as he probed into the cones extracting the seeds in expert fashion. Here too was a cooperative Boreal Chickadee that came just overhead of us in response to a short burst of playback Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Orange-crowned and Yellow-rumped Warblers, a somewhat sneaky Lincoln’s Sparrow, singing Swainson’s Thrushes and our first Alder Flycatchers rounded out the cast. As we walked back towards the car, we were happy to spot a calmly sitting female Moose with two small and undeniably adorable mooselets lounging in a clearing along the trail. Initially the female seemed quite alert to our presence, but soon she relaxed, allowing us to watch the antics of the young ones for several minutes with no danger of imminent tramplement.  

The rest of the day was largely set aside for travel, and after leaving Kincaid and checking out of our rooms at the Anchorage hotel we had lunch and started the drive northwards towards Denali. Usually we take our 3-night loop drive in a counterclockwise fashion, but on this occasion, we had to reverse the route due to room availability at the remote McLaren River Lodge. This meant that from Anchorage we took the Parks Highway northwards through Wasilla and Willow and then through Denali State Park and the Nenana River Valley, eventually reaching our base for the next two nights at a hotel on the banks of the Nenana just a bit to the south of the Denali National Park visitors center. The drive up was stunning, and at the roadside overlook we were able to see the tops of North America’s highest peak; the impressive Mount Denali. Historically this giant mountain is only visible a few days a month, being enshrouded in dense cloud on most other days. In 2025 we could see the mountain on one of the three days we were in the area, but this year we were treated to multiple days (3 for 3) of the mountain fully out. The roughly 650 mile long Alaska range averages somewhere around 8000 feet, which is an impressive enough height as the peaks generally rise up from a near sea-level base height. On clear days the just over 20,000-foot high Denali simply towers over the lesser mountains like an enormous snow-covered behemoth. It could indeed be argued that Denali is actually the highest mountain in the world with a bit of creative accounting. Because Everest rises up from the already 17,000ft high Tibetan Plateau it has an actual rise of only about 12,000 while Denali rises an astonishing 18,000 feet above its base! After we ogled the mountain appropriately we continued on to our hotel. Our well-appointed and comfortable rooms are tucked into the spruces along the banks of the Nenana River where they’re far removed from the throngs of tourists that cram into the resort-style hotels that are clustered around the park entrance, and the sounds of the river make for an excellent aural backdrop to a good nights’ sleep. Before popping off to bed though we enjoyed a sumptuous meal at one of the fancier park hotels. Devouring our King Salmon or Lamb shanks with aplomb in a glassed-in restaurant perched high up above the valley floor was a great way to cap off a truly exceptional day. 

The next day is generally reserved as an all-day sightseeing trip into Denali National Park using the concession buses to access the Eielson Visitor center that sits about 66 miles in from the park entrance. During the summer of 2021 however a large landslide along Polychrome Pass wiped out the road. This had always been a concern, as the road had been dug into what was essentially a scree slope about 1500 feet above the valley floor. The views were superlative, but the very narrow roadbed and incredibly steep slopes made for tense driving conditions at the best of times. The park has started to rebuild in a new location, but under their construction plan it is likely that it will be at least 2027 before vehicles can again access the pass, visitor’s center and the higher elevations that make the area so famous for sightseeing and mammal watching. Given that condition we decided to spend the day to the north around Fairbanks (as we had during the intervening years tours). It’s roughly a two-hour drive to Alaska’s second city, dubbed the golden heart of Alaska by the somewhat poetically inclined bureau of commerce. Over the course of our drive, we followed the path of the meandering Nenana River as it cut north through the Alaska Range and entered the high rolling hills with extensive deciduous forest and wide marshy plains that characterize the interior of the state. On the drive up we were treated to a few birds including a male Rusty Blackbird and a more cooperative pair of perched Alder Flycatcher at a roadside rest stop. In the small town of Nenana we stopped in to view the large black-and-white metal tripod that is used by the town of Nenana for the Nenana Ice Classic; a popular event in which the registrants place a guess (to the minute) as to when the ice on the Tenana will break up. Tickets are $3.00 a guess, and the winners can pocket sizable prize money (roughly $145,000 last year, although the majority of the funds go to local charities). Also here we were treated to quite the experience at the local petrol station, with a rather acerbic and colourful attendant providing a bit of entertainment value when the fuel bowsers refused to relinquish any petrol, or indeed, our credit cards which somehow became locked in the slots.  

Leaving Nenana behind and negotiating a rather lengthy section of road works we arrived in Fairbanks by the late morning. In 2022 we made contact with a friendly Fairbanks-based birder who was hosting a nesting pair of Boreal Owls in his yard. This year his owls had already fledged, but luck was with us as a friend of his was still hosting a family in one of their nest boxes. We called and were invited to stop by. Just after we parked and walked a few steps down Nancy’s driveway, we could see that one of the chicks was hanging out of the hole, watching our progress with interest as we shuffled around and then set up scopes and cameras. Amazingly the bird stayed in view for nearly a half-hour as we studied its milk-chocolate plumage and intent glare! Boreal Owl is probably the least frequently encountered of all of the owl species in the ABA area, as its small size and largely remote breeding areas keep it generally away from prying human eyes. I suspect many participants would have counted the day a success with just this lengthy view of Boreal Owl, but the Fairbanks area had several more avian treats in store for us.  

Leaving the owl still peering out of its box, we headed back into Fairbanks for lunch and then drove a bit further north, down the rather remote and little-traveled Steese Highway. A few years ago, a visiting birder with a flat tire pulled over to change it out and, in the process, found a territorial Yellow-bellied Flycatcher, a species that was barely known from the state and whose closest known population was several hundred miles to the east in the Yukon Territory of Canada. Subsequent visits proved that several birds were present, and this small population has persisted ever since the original sighting. We pulled over in the prescribed spot and within just a few minutes were looking at a pair of quite cooperative Hammond’s Flycatchers that were bouncing around in the trees just in front of our parked vans. Although we didn’t end up locating any Yellow-bellied this year the road did provide our first visible Swainson’s Thrushes and Black-capped Chickadees as well as a short visit to a section of the famous Alaska Pipeline. Here we were able to see the actual pipe up close, as well as a cross-section showing the pipes structure and a shuttle that is used for scouring the inner walls clean. The whole operation is quite an engineering feat, as running an above ground pipe roughly 800 miles from the North Slope across the Brooks, Alaska and Wrangel ranges to the port town of Valdez is an impressive achievement. The pipeline viewpoint also produced our only Northern Flickers for the tour. Some participants were surprised to see that the birds were yellow-shafted, which caused a brief lecture on the fact that eastern boreal bird subspecies dominate all the way to the west in the boreal, with western forms occurring further to the south.  

We then headed a bit out to the Northwest of the city to spend a bit of time birding around the Peat Ponds Wildlife Area. This small marsh not too far from the main University of Alaska campus has several small ponds, ringed by sedgebeds and short spruces. Here we tallied a few Lesser Yellowlegs, a pair of Trumpeter Swans, our first Ring-necked Ducks and Bufflehead, a passing Osprey and several Rusty Blackbirds. The latter is a declining species, a rather unusual condition for a blackbird, and much study is currently ongoing in an attempt to pinpoint the reasons behind their decline.  

Our final birding stop in the Fairbanks area was to Creamer’s Field, a sprawling protected area with open (fallow) agricultural fields and a small boardwalk trail that runs along the edge of a spruce and birch swamp. Here we were very successful at tracking down our hoped-for Bohemian Waxwings, with a pair of birds very actively flycatching from the tops of some of the dead trees in the swamp. Here too we enjoyed a Solitary Sandpiper that was foraging in a trailside water-filled ditch, and a lovely full breeding plumaged pair of Horned Grebes (yet another species that scarcely resembles the drab plumaged birds that frequent much of the lower 48 states winter). The open fields around the visitors center were hosting well over one hundred Sandhill Cranes that were slowly walking over the tilled ground looking for easy pickings. The fields were excellent for swallows as well, with numbers of Tree, Violet-green and Cliff Swallows hawking insects. Our early dinner at a local Thai restaurant was fairly quick and very tasty, and kept us in good spirits as we headed back southwards to our hotel near Denali. 

The next morning, we checked out of our hotel and then set off to the south, with the goal of spending the rest of the day exploring the Denali Highway, a 135-mile long stretch of remote road that connects the Parks and Richardson Highways. Very few people or structures exist along the road, which passes through a wide valley surrounded by the peaks of the Alaska Range. Rivers and streams lined with willow and alder and isolated stands of Black Spruce and Larch provide excellent cover for an array of breeding passerines. At a small marshy lake near the beginning of the road we found a family group of Canada Jays which seemed quite used to the idea of handouts (they approved of segmented granola bars at any rate). A bit further on, at a larger lake where we enjoyed our first Barrow’s Goldeneye and a trio of very active Lesser Scaup we teased up a nice selection of passerines in the adjacent spruces. Northern Waterthrush and Blackpoll Warbler showed particularly well as they sat in the short trees greeting the morning with bouts of full song. Here too were Yellow-rumped, Wilson’s and Orange-crowned Warblers, a chattering group of Redpoll and some flyover White-winged Crossbill. At another site a bit east of this lake we repeated our success with a bit of mob tape, this time picking up several flashy Ruby-crowned Kinglets with their scarlet crests fully on display, as well as a handsome male Varied Thrush and several more furtive Grey-cheeked Thrushes. Our goal for the morning was to make it out roughly 35 miles to investigate a site that had been productive for us in 2025 for Northern Hawk-Owl. Just a bit before we reached the location we stopped in at the newly renovated bridge over the Brushkana River where we were happy to spot a stunning male Harlequin Duck that was foraging along the rocky banks in the impressive current; looking for all the world like North America’s answer to South Americas Torrent Duck. Once at the site where we hoped to find a Hawk-Owl we walked a bit out into the tundra, perching ourselves atop a low ridge that overlooks a large Black Spruce swamp with open grassy meadows. We scanned to no avail, and found that the windy conditions made it quite hard to hear as well. Undeterred we vowed to make a second attempt after lunch, so we headed back to Cantwell to visit a local Jamaican (of all things) restaurant that was universally praised. It’s not bad when one can bird in virtually human-free wilderness for a morning, and then be treated to freshly made jerk-style sandwiches and fried cinnamon-sugar bananas!  

After lunch we again headed east on the highway, soon reaching our selected Hawk-Owl spot where we were greeted by a soaring Bald Eagle, and a close pass down the road by a male Merlin intent on mischief. With lighter winds than our first visit and an obvious uptick in raptors we had high hopes that our main target bird for the day might appear. It took a bit of searching but we were thrilled when a sharp-eyed participant called out that she had seen a larger bird flying low towards us. Shuffling around we found the Hawk-Owl perched atop a mid-distance spruce, staring at us intently. It lingered for several minutes as we took turns in the scopes and snapped some photos, but then decided that we were neither a rival Hawk-Owl or potential food and dropped off the tree, shooting away with the species characteristic powerful and direct flight. The numbers of Hawk-Owls present in a given area fluctuate wildly from year to year based on local prey abundance, making them quite difficult to predict and a definite bonus when seen so well, and I suspect our experience with this bird will live long in this year’s participants memories.  

As we headed further eastwards the road began to climb, and soon we were picking up territorial Arctic Warblers along the roadside. In the early afternoon we crossed the swollen Susitna River, and soon after the road began to climb out of the comparatively verdant river valley. Tall mountains with impressive crags and scree slopes began to lurk closer to the road. We scanned the slopes, with some participants enjoying a quick view of a trotting Grey Wolf that sadly vanished into a willow thicket. Another Bald Eagle was seen soaring along a distant ridge (a bit of a surprise actually, as in this habitat one would expect Golden Eagles rather than Balds). Here too we were treated to the vocal stylings of an Olive-sided Flycatcher that stubbornly refused to show itself despite quite a bit of scanning; there are lots of spruce trees to perch on in central Alaska!  

Over the course of the rest of the afternoon, we spotted a nice array of birds as we made our way further east, from huge Trumpeter and Tundra Swans, to diminutive Red-necked Phalaropes that seemed to still be on migration rather than locally foraging, all while being surrounded by views that would make postcard publishers weep. We pulled into our lodge near the Maclaren River in the early evening (such as it is in this part of the world during the summer), finding the rooms comfortable and after admiring the nesting Cliff Swallows that were busily adorning most of the buildings with their 2023 edition nests enjoyed a hearty meal with the colourful locals.  

Our one-night stay at McLaren was added to the tour so that we could spend more time birding along the Denali Highway and that we could have an opportunity to seek out Smith’s Longspurs if they were present in the area. For much of the last decade a small patch of cottongrass meadow strewn tundra has hosted a few Smith’s through summer. Many other such patches along the highway used to be good for the species, but the birds seem particularly sensitive to small changes in their habitat, and the population around the Denali Valley is very small (most Smith’s breed on the relatively flat lands of the North Slope, and occur in small clusters where their preferred microhabitat of bunchgrass, very short willows and cottongrass swales dominate.) Our semi-secret spot produced a few individuals for 5 or 6 years running, but in 2025 no birds appeared, and quite a few searches in 2026 had failed to find them either. Rather than crashing around through the uneven willow thickets on the way out to the meadow with little to no chance for reward we decided to spend the morning birding around the lodge, and visiting the series of lakes that lie a few miles to the west that we had passed by the prior afternoon. This plan proved quite productive, as the lake behind the lodge produced our only Redhead of the trip, as well as comparison views of Lesser and Greater Scaup and a nice illustration of how puddle ducks often accompany longer-necked Swans in order to feast on the scraps of vegetation that the swans can pull up from places that the smaller waterfowl can’t reach. A bit to the west of the lodge we stopped to scan a series of medium to small sized gravel-lined ponds that were attracting a wide array of waterfowl including nesting Trumpeter Swans atop their impressively large nests, a pair of chortling Common Loons, dozens of Red-necked Phalarope, and our first American Herring Gulls. Rafts of moulting male ducks were loafing in the calm waters as well, doubtless already finished breeding for the season despite the early date. Among the impressive numbers of Scaup, American Wigeon, Northern Pintail, Common Merganser and Mallard we found a few Barrow’s Goldeneye, a single Long-tailed Duck and a few Bufflehead. Shorebirds were busily displaying around the margins of the lake, with Least Sandpiper, Lesser Yellowlegs and Wilson’s Snipe all singing in flight display or chasing their compatriots around below our elevated vantage point. In the roadside alder thickets, we heard a wonderful chorus of birdsong, and with some patience located Savannah, White-crowned, American Tree and Red Fox Sparrows as well as Grey-cheeked Thrush. Warblers too were in evidence, with Blackpoll, Yellow and Wilson’s calling as well. Of particular note were our excellent views of several cooperative Arctic Warblers, with one bird even sitting up on high exposed alder branch, lingering for long enough for a proper photo shoot!  

Leaving the lakes behind, we returned to the lodge to check out, and then spent the rest of the morning birding the final 35 miles of the Denali Highway on the way east to Paxson. Our first stop was just a mile down the road, where we spent a few minutes watching the antics of a colony of Bank Swallow that have been using an uplifted ledge of peat bog for many years. Here too we located perched up Savannah, White-crowned, Golden-crowned and American Tree Sparrows, and marveled at the size of some of the visible Beaver lodges dotted around the landscape. Further east we stopped along the glassy calm Tangle Lake, where nearly a hundred Arctic Terns were feasting on recently hatched mayflies just over the water’s glassy surface. The lake was hosting a nice array of waterbirds too, with a pair of Red-throated Loon joining the massed waterfowl. Along the shore we picked out a couple of Wandering Tattler and Spotted Sandpiper, and we added to our growing migrant passerine tally for the day with a very showy Blackpoll Warbler and incredibly bright yellow Northern Yellow Warbler singing from roadside shrubs.  

Just a bit before the end of the road we stopped at a conveniently located rest stop, complete with stunning views of the eastern arc of the Alaska range, a well-stocked bathroom and even a small picnic table! We were joined in our repast by a passing Golden Eagle (oddly our only one of the tour this year), as well as a family of 5 who seemed quite happy to receive our picnic leftovers. With all of the lunch logistics dealt with it was then a simple matter of making the long drive back down to Anchorage on the Richardson and Glenn Highways. This is a much less travelled route than the Park’s highway that we used on the way North, with long stretches without any discernible human impact (bar the road itself) and some impressive sweeping vistas of seemingly endless tracts of spruce forest in front of the distant white wall of the towering Wrangel-Saint Elias range. A bit of road construction slowed us down at one point, although it did allow us to coax a Red-throated Loon over to the road edge in response to a bit of playback. After reaching the road junction in Glennallen we turned southwestwards, passing through the Matanuska Valley towards Palmer on a stunning road that largely follows the path carved by the retreating Matanuska Glacier. We drove by remnant hanging glacial valleys, over rushing rivers, and along the base of some impressively steep cliffs before dropping down in elevation and returning to a landscape of larger deciduous trees and eventually the grassy meadows that line the coast of Cook Inlet. 

Once we reached our by now familiar hotel in Anchorage, we enjoyed a private buffet dinner along with the other WINGS group who had just returned from an excellent three-day stint around Seward and were soon bound for the high arctic outpost of Utqiagvik. 

SEWARD 

Our final leg of the main tour takes in the Kenai Peninsula, shores of Cook Inlet, Resurrection Bay and the glacial fjords and the small but charismatically Northwestern town of Seward. We commenced this leg of the trip with some morning birding around the city of Anchorage. We began with a visit to Westchester Lagoon, perhaps the single best birding site in suburban Anchorage for overall diversity. Around the freshwater lagoons near the mouth of Chester Creek we found a nice mix of waterfowl, including excellent close comparison studies of Greater and Lesser Scaup, a few Gadwall, American Wigeon and Mallard, and several family groups of Canada Geese with fuzzy chicks in tow. On a small island in the lake, we watched as Short-billed Gulls brought food in to their puffball-sized nestlings, while several pairs of Red-necked Grebes tended to their floating nests just a few feet offshore. Despite arriving right at high tide we found the area to be sadly wader-free, with no sign of our hoped for Hudsonian Godwits (which seem to have become very scarce in the region over the last few years). The huge tidal flows along the Anchorage waterfront (one of the largest tides in the world, at over 40 feet) reveal impressive expanses of glacial silt at low tide, making birds generally too far away for satisfactory views. At high tide however, there can often be large numbers of waders and gulls loafing along the narrow ledge of coastline close to the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail. We managed to time our visit to coincide with the onset of a falling tide, and when we walked out along the paved bike and pedestrian trail (many US cities could learn a lot about active living and alternative transportation infrastructure with a visit to the surprisingly progressive Anchorage) to the coast we were treated to close views of a host of birds waiting for the mudflats to reveal themselves. Among the more common species we spotted our first Bonaparte’s Gulls and a bit further to the south spent some time watching a Sandhill Crane feeding her very small colts bits of bedraggled vole in a patch of tall grasses safely out of sight for passing Eagles. We were just settling down to wait for the mudflats to broaden when Ben called us to inform us that his strategy of walking endless concentric circles in the mosquito infested forests of Kincaid Park had finally paid off; he had located a male Spruce Grouse! 

We hastened over to the park as quick as possible, concerned that either the bird might give Ben the slip, or that he might expire from blood loss and be unable to inform us where the bird was upon our arrival. Thankfully neither event occurred, and we too were soon treated to stunningly close views of a lovely male Spruce Grouse that seemed utterly unfazed by our elation or proximity. Though these often enigmatic chickens are not rare in Alaska finding one is more a matter of luck than skill. Most sightings involve birds standing along roads or on trails and occur largely by happenstance, and indeed on the drive out of the park we chanced upon a hen bird with a couple of tiny puffball sized chicks along the edge of the drive!  

After packing up we stopped in at one final spot in town where some recent reports of Great Horned Owl had piqued our interest. We didn’t locate any of the owls, but did find our first visible Red-breasted Nuthatches, a pair of Black-capped Chickadees that were busily gathering nesting material, and our only Downy Woodpecker of the tour. This local park was also perfectly situated next to a little Greek restaurant, which made for a most excellent stop for lunch.  

After lunch we took the roughly two-hour drive south to Seward that follows the shoreline of Turnagain Arm before passing over the scenic Kenai Peninsula just after breakfast. Our first stop was Beluga Point, where we noticed a couple of foraging Dall Sheep up on the cliffs above the road. This northern relative of the Rocky Mountain and Sonoran Desert Bighorns is impressively agile, able to navigate remarkably narrow ledges and rocky scree slopes with apparent ease. Passing by the town of Girdwood we noted substantial evidence of the massive earthquake (magnitude 9.2) that struck just off the peninsula in 1964. Despite the passage of six decades the quakes effects was still quite apparent. Groves of dead spruce and hemlocks, locally known as ghost forests, that were killed when seawater crested over the coastal forests still stand along the highway. The stumps poke up from wide marshes which themselves were created when the alluvial plain around the end of Turnagain arm instantly dropped an amazing 2.5m during the quake.  

A bit before reaching Seward we pulled into a small, forested neighborhood where some friends had recently reported seeing Pine Grosbeaks coming into the front yard feeders of one of the houses. We parked and were happy to see the homeowner was present, unpacking groceries from her car. After introducing ourselves she was extremely welcoming, urging us to come onto her lawn for a close look at the feeders and even getting her husband to come out and restock the deck with seed. In no time at all we were watching a group of nine Pine Grosbeaks sitting around on her railing and devouring sunflower seeds at a prodigious pace. For over a decade we had been visiting a local birders house in Seward which had become a birding tradition for any Alaskan birders coming into town. Sadly in 2024 she passed away, and since then we have missed our visits there and also had significantly more difficulty at locating a few of the temperate rainforest species which we used to regularly see at her feeders. Pine Grosbeak is likely the chief among these now trickier species, as they tend to stay high up in the tall coastal forest, and are often only visible in flight. It’s such an attractive bird that it’s a shame most in the wild sightings are so brief, and watching this group at near eye-level and in perfect light was a real treat. Also at the feeders were our first Pine Siskins and a little family of Dark-eyed Juncos including two odd-looking streaky juveniles (a plumage that is not held long after fledging). We thanked our host profusely and then completed the drive into Seward. The town is nestled at the head of a beautiful narrow fjord flanked by steep-sided mountains that reach into the alpine zone near their peaks. Seward has a very Pacific Northwestern feel, with tall forests extending down to stony beaches that are liberally covered in kelp and driftwood and a seemingly inexhaustible number of coffee stands and art galleries tucked into the town. We checked in to our harbourside hotel in good order and then enjoyed an early dinner so that we could be well rested for our upcoming boat trip out into the Kenai Fiords.  

The next day dawned bright sunny and calm, nearly perfect conditions for our day out on the water around Northwestern Glacier, Resurrection Bay and the Chiswell Islands. The seas remained nearly flat all day, with less than a meter of swell out in the open waters, and even flatter water near the coast, a welcome relief for those who had been concerned about mal de mar. As we motored out of Resurrection Bay, surrounded by yet more rubbish Alaska scenery in all directions we spotted hulking Bald Eagles atop navigation buoys and several pairs of diminutive Marbled Murrelets flying away from our approach. A little further out the bay we stopped for a couple of surprisingly cooperative Sea Otters. These undeniably charismatic mammals are always a huge hit with tourists, and this pair performed well, lounging on their backs and keeping a close eye on us as we slowly drifted past. Populations of these magnificent mustelids have rebounded in the last hundred years after heavy persecution for the fur trade. Sea Otters have the densest hair of any mammal, with an incredible 750,000 hairs per square inch. The hair traps small bubbles of air between the strands, keeping the animals buoyant and warm in the chilly water, and our two otters looked perfectly at home in waters that we would certainly succumb to in minutes. Once out near the head of the bay we began to see our first little groups of Common Murres, Pigeon Guillemots and Horned Puffins loafing on the water, and were surprised to spot a pair of very vocal Black Oystercatchers that were flying well up off the water, chasing each other while uttering their ringing flight calls.  

After a brief stop at Fox Island where we picked up a few passengers who had booked an overnight excursion there, we headed out into more open water, passing the giant Bear glacier where we were given a brief lesson about the differences between lateral, medial and terminal moraines. The boat then diverted a short way to look at our first Humpback Whales. We spent an enjoyable twenty minutes or so watching as a pair of whales (a mother and calf) surfaced, fluked and rolled around just a hundred meters or so off the bow. This is the most common species of whale around the Kenai in summer, with hundreds of whales using the area to fatten up for the lean months in the tropics where they bear their young. Apparently, most of the local whales here spend their winters off the coast of Maui, making the trip in a little short of a month each way. Eventually the whales showed their tails, marking a deep dive so we started to head westwards towards the Chiswells, spotting a group of feisty and active Dall’s Porpoises and a pair of more boat-shy Harbour Porpoises along the way.  

Reaching the far side of the Harding Passage we began to navigate through a network of small islands just off the tip of Cape Aialik where we stopped in a narrow channel between two steep-sided islands and picked out a large flock of Parakeet Auklets on the water. These small alcids are not common around Seward, and as they were close to the boat, we were able to hear their distinctive parrot-like calls as they debated whether to fly or dive at our approach. This archipelago also proved very good for puffins, with dozens of Tufted and Horned Puffins (as well as lots of Common Murre) loafing in the water around the bases of the cliffs. Colonies of Black-legged Kittiwake and Glaucous-winged Gulls lined some of the islands, and on a rocky headland we spotted small groups of bellowing Steller’s Sea Lions enjoying the warm morning sun. Just as we left the area a pair of cormorants flew past our position. Ben looked at the first bird and called out Red-faced Cormorant! At the same time, I looked at the second bird and called out Double-crested Cormorant, which admittedly caused a bit of confusion at first. Happily virtually all of the participants were able to see the large white flank patches, bright red face and long yellow bill on the lead bird, which proved to be our only one of this year’s cruise. These large and very colorful cormorants are at the extreme eastern edge of their breeding range around Seward, and numbers seem to fluctuate from year to year. As many birding groups had to this point reported missing them, we considered ourselves lucky!  

A bit further west we reached Granite Island and the head of the Northwestern Fjord. Coming into the fjord by boat is a magical experience, as the straight gets progressively narrower and the fjord walls seem to close in around you. As we headed further up the fjord the captain repeatedly marked locations where the glacier once stood, with the 1956 location (roughly 3 miles seaward from the current terminus) being particularly noteworthy. This glacier, like so many others around the world, is in a state of rapid decline. The head of the fjord has only been exposed for a few decades, as the glacier has retreated some 8 miles over the last 50 years. The pace of this decline is staggering to comprehend; most of the locations we traveled through in the area were sitting under hundreds of feet of ice only a scant 200 years ago. This year we were able to get quite a bit closer to the ice face than in prior years, giving us an excellent view as pieces of the huge ice sheet periodically calved off and dropped into the water, giving the local Harbour Seals new islets to loaf on.  

Eventually, we pulled away and started the slow navigation back through the mats of recently fallen ice. Once out in the clear water we headed over to the other side of Striation Island to check around the base of Ogive Glacier for murrelets. The cold water around the ice floes combines with the tide to create a fast-moving current that brings nutrients up from the fjord’s bottom. It is within this current that Kittlitz’s Murrelets tend to spend much of their time. The captain took us over to a very sheltered bay close to the glacier, and we were soon successful at finding several dozen Kittlitz’s that rather uncharacteristically lingered on the water for extended views. At one point the captain managed to keep a small group of birds right off the bow, and several of our camera-ready participants managed truly spectacular photos. To cap the sighting off we also saw several birds in flight, showing off their distinctive white tails as they winged away from the bow. In more than a dozen boat trips that I have taken into Northwestern Fjord this was definitely the best view that I have had of this scarce and declining species.  

After a short stop in cataract cove where some tourist photos were taken of the tumbling waterfalls cascading down the cliff face just feet away from our ship we left Northwestern Fjord and headed out across a short stretch of open water towards the Chiswell Islands. Perhaps due to the calm water the captain ventured a bit further out than usual and soon began to see larger numbers of Horned and Tufted Puffins and Common Murres on the water and zipping overhead. With the relatively low numbers of alcids around much of the North Pacific it was with some relief that we tallied birds here in the hundreds rather than in the singles. Murre and Kittiwake numbers were still markedly low here though. The rapid decline of many seabird rookeries around the Bering Sea and much of the north Pacific has been attributed to several factors, with a rise in sea temperature and shifting sea currents being perhaps the major factors. Biologists in the region are hopeful that the near complete collapse of some Murre colonies is a blip, and that better years are to come. It can be hard to be optimistic about the state of the worlds ecosystems sometimes, but we did saw lots of murres that were so full of fish that they could not take off as we approached; paddling furiously on the water surface like middle-aged overweight men trying to learn how to surf.  

As we had hoped the Chiswell Islands also produced a fine showing from the local Thick-billed Murres that were tucked in to their normal spot on Beehive Island (this is a fairly scarce breeding species around Seward, as the larger colonies tend to be out in the colder and deeper waters of the Aleutians and Bering Sea), and quite a few more Horned and Tufted Puffins around the boat or in the air overhead. The flat seas also aided in our quest for alcids sitting in the water, and near the eastern edge of the Chiswells we picked up several small rafts of Rhinoceros Auklets that were diving underneath small flocks of foraging Kittiwakes. We also managed quick views of two groups of Ancient Murrelets, with the first trio close enough to the bow that we could discern their white underparts, flared white supercilia and black throat outlined by a white half-collar. Often this is the species of alcid that we see most poorly on the boat, as Ancients seem particularly wary of approaching craft. With the Ancient Murrelets well seen and tallied, we completed the sweep of regularly occurring Alcid species in the Seward region, an impressive 10 species. The Alcid family is thought to have evolved in the Bering Sea, and the nutrient rich waters of Alaska support the bulk of the family’s extant diversity.  

At the last of the islands that we visited, we stopped in to visit a haul out and rookery site for Steller’s Sea Lions, finding several dozen of these huge pinnipeds up on the rocks including one particularly huge male and quite a few young pups. The numbers of this playful but imposing animals have begun to recover throughout Alaska in the last few years and sightings are quite frequent even around the Seward docks. It was at about this time in the afternoon that the captains radio sprang to life with news of a small pod of Orca just a little to our east. Even the most hardened birder would be hard pressed to pass up a chance to see the mightiest predator in the oceans at close range, and for most of the boats participants this was one of their main hopes. We hastened over and were rewarded with lengthy views of a group of 5 or 6 animals as they slowly lounged at the surface. The towering dorsal fins of the adult male were an awesome sight at such a close range. The captain identified the group as one of the local resident pods, an ecomorph of Orca that specializes as fish-eaters in regions with appreciable runs of anadromous fish. While watching the Orcas we were rewarded with a passing Sooty Shearwater, a species that we only irregularly record on these boat trips. Two Fin Whales also put in a brief appearance, soon diving down to their preferred depths and stubbornly refusing to resurface (these huge baleen whales can easily stay under for 45 minutes at a time). A little while later we pulled back into the dock with our heads spinning from the exceptionally good and memory-filled day, thankful for the amazingly cooperative weather and exceptionally good birding.  

The final full day of the main tour started off with a morning of birding around the town of Seward. We started off with a visit to Lowell Point where we first stopped near the northern beachhead. Here we scanned the Fiord, finding a few Marbled Murrelets, two more male Barrow’s Goldeneye, a neat scene with nearly a dozen “American” Crows (the birds here in Alaska are likely better known as Northwestern Crows, a form that has only recently been lumped; a bitter pill to those that know the form well away from the southern-most part of their range) that were foraging in the intertidal zone along with a comparatively gigantic Common Raven who looked like a King surrounded by his peasants. Here too we enjoyed excellent views of one of the local Sooty Fox Sparrows perched along the road. These chocolate-colored birds with unstreaked backs and spotted underparts bear little resemblance to the Red Fox Sparrows that we had seen around Nome, and surely represent an excellent candidate for full species status once some graduate student somewhere does a little bit more work on the species in the small zones of overlap. We also located a pair of large and impressively dark Song Sparrows which also differ dramatically from birds from down south. Reaching Lowell Point proper we parked and took a pleasant walk amongst the majestic Sitka Spruce and Western Hemlock forests that line the trail out to Caines Head. The short but dense understory of mosses, ferns and devil’s club was lush and green, and many of the large trees were laden with thick horizontal moss-covered limbs, making for quite a verdant and vertically challenging (compared to most of our birding locations in Alaska) environment. On the walk we located several perky Townsend’s Warbler, glowing an almost neon yellow and black against the deep green tones of the forest, as well as perched Varied Thrush, a pair of busy Golden-crowned Kinglet and Chestnut-backed Chickadees that were gathering nesting material from a large ball of what looked like husky fur on the edge of the parking lot. One of the birds stuffed so much wiry white hairs in its bill that it looked like a tiny avian moustached Tamarin monkey! 

Our next destination was just a bit upslope from Seward, where we explored the short loop trail through the small but pretty two lakes park. Right where we parked we managed to get great views of an exuberantly singing Pacific Wren and were shocked when a River Otter scampered across the trail right in front of us! As we walked towards the main lake we intersected with the otter several more times, spotting him gamboling through the forest eliciting lots of chitterings from the local Red Squirrels and alarm calls from the local thrushes. It seemed that the otter had the same idea as we did, as we arrived at the lake at roughly the same time and were then treated to lengthy and often very close-range views as it paddled around the pond, eventually caught a half-grown salmon and then proceeded to happily munch on it from just a few meters away from us! The lake also provided us with excellent views of a pair of American Dippers that were nesting about half-way up a small waterfall just upstream from the lake. The adults would occasionally zip down the creek to do some fishing around the lake, and when they returned to their little cave in the middle of the braided waterfall, we could clearly hear the happy pipings of their young. The forest walk also produced our only Steller’s Jay and Brown Creeper of the trip, as well as some flyover Red Crossbills that eluded our binoculars but not our ears. We then made a short foray over to the east side of the Fiord, where often in mid-June there are dozens of Fishermen and roughly equal numbers of Eagles lining the beaches as the salmon runs start up into the various small lakes further up the valley. Oddly on this visit there were markedly fewer of each group, though one hopeful adult Eagle was perched above the beach and keeping a close eye on the three or four fishermen that were repeatedly launching their hooks out into the steel-blue water.  

At midday we went downtown for a couple of hours of independent time. Many in the group elected to visit the nearby famous Alaska Sea Life Center, a public aquarium that features excellent exhibits of the marine and littoral life of Alaska, including a lot of interesting birds such as live Spectacled, Steller’s and King Eiders, Harlequin Ducks and Puffins. One huge pen holds a towering artificial cliff complete with nesting Red-legged Kittiwakes that were busily constructing nests with provided moss. The aviary includes a two-story aquarium as well, and the views of birds diving down nearly 30 feet underwater trailing a line of silver bubbles in their wakes were exceptional. The center is actively breeding both Steller’s and Spectacled Eiders and hopes to produce kittiwake chicks as well for release into the wild. At the appointed time we met back near downtown and started the journey northwards and back to Anchorage. Our last stop before in the Seward area was to a small fish weir on Bear Creek. Here a local non-profit fishing co-op has a managed salmon run on the small forested creek, and we found hundreds (maybe thousands) of plump sockeye salmon running up against the weir. The fish were gathering in the clear waters just downstream of the dam and often could be seen jumping up onto the first platform of the weir structure. The salmon- choked creek was also attended by a family of American Dippers that included two very busy adults that were occasionally bringing in prey items to feed their seemingly insatiable youngster which was snoozing on the rocks below the main co-op building. A residential house just past the co-op building had a couple of fully stocked hummingbird feeders up on its deck, and after about a ten-minute vigil we were treated to our final new species for the main tour; a bright orange male Rufous Hummingbird that zipped in for a quick feed. A female Pine Grosbeak was in the yard too, oddly foraging on the lush suburban looking lawn in the company of a pair of American Robins. Once back in Anchorage we found the normally bird-rich Potters Marsh to be a bit quiet, and after taking in a very showy Rusty Blackbird, some nesting Short-billed Gulls and a smattering of local waterfowl we elected to press on to our hotel for the night. 

UTQIAGVIK (BARROW) 

This year’s flight up to Barrow was scheduled for the mid-afternoon rather than our customary late morning, but as we had done so well around Anchorage with the local birds we opted to take much of the morning off, giving a welcome break and a chance to catch up on laundry and other such mundane tasks before we met and headed to the airport at 11am. After checking in and clearing security we ate lunch at the airport and boarded our plane to Barrow, arriving at about 4:40 in the afternoon. Utquiavik (Barrow) sits at 71 degrees and 17 minutes N at the northern tip of the United States. The point just north of town falls just a bit short of the tip of the Boothia Peninsula in Canada’s high arctic, which is the highest latitude point in mainland North America. We had heard through the guiding grapevine that much of the North Slope was once again experiencing a late spring (as in 2025). A warm-up had recently occurred, resulting in the melting of most of the snow and a shift from a white color palette to a brown one, but ice was still dominating along the shorelines, with no open water to be seen out to the horizon. A quick check of the NOAA Ice Desk revealed that the entire region was still locked in hard sea ice, stretching to the north hundreds of miles!  

The ramshackle town of Barrow houses roughly 4800 residents. The town serves as the commercial hub of the entire North Slope, and is the largest Inupiat town in the country. It’s a sprawling and surprisingly large place, with a substantial number of multi-story buildings and a well-developed (if not always well maintained) urban road network. As many of the residents have some means due to the flush of income from the oil industry there are lots of vehicles, boats, ATV’s and Ski-Doos lying about the town. When they break down, they are typically just laid to rest in the yards, as the removal of such heavy equipment is expensive. With the houses all up on stilts to prevent the melting of the underlying permafrost, puddles of water tend to form under and around the houses, making for a most unusual suburban look. Although a lot of the houses look like they could fall apart at any moment, and the yards tend to be filled with broken down ATV’s, snowmobiles and trucks the insides of the buildings are warm and homey, and the locals are quite proud of their town, and their heritage.  

We checked into our hotel, picked up the hire cars and then, hit the ground running, eager to see what the high arctic had in store for us. Cheerful Snow Buntings were seemingly everywhere, doubtless finding lots of potential nesting sites among the buildings and refuse in town. We had about an hour and a half before dinner so we spent our time checking out a few shorebird locations along the coast. Here we stopped to soak in our first wave of north slope birds, with breeding Semipalmated Sandpipers, Red-necked and Red Phalaropes and lots of Greater White-fronted Geese and Brant all showing extremely well. It didn’t take us too long to find our first Eiders, with a pair of King Eiders sitting quietly in the middle salt lagoon. It’s hard to pick a favorite eider as the males (particularly) of all four species are stunning birds, but for me the multicoloured head, dainty profile and striking scapular extensions of the King are hard to beat. Before dinner we also enjoyed some close-up views of Red-throated and Pacific Loons, and our first looks at Pectoral Sandpipers on the breeding grounds.  

After dinner at the local Japanese restaurant many participants opted for a short trip up towards the base of Point Barrow. First though we went south to bird Freshwater Lakes Road. Here we were treated to a little flock of passing geese which included our only Snow Geese of the trip, two more pairs of King Eider, some very accommodating American Golden-Plovers and a great showing of nesting Parasitic and Pomarine Jaegers. At one point both species were flying back and forth over the road, even briefly joined by a trio of Sabine’s Gulls and several Arctic Terns! The roadside ditches here held very tame Red-necked and Red Phalarope, and several Dunlin and Long-billed Dowitchers; all of which posed nicely for extended views. As we started leaving the area Ben noticed a Snowy Owl flying over our van which happily perched out by one of the airport hangers. Numbers of these impressive predators fluctuate in accordance with the local vole and lemming populations, but even on poor lemming years there will be a few Snowy Owls around Barrow. 2026 seemed to be a very low lemming year, with numbers of jaegers and owls down from previous years.  

A bit to the north of town, around the National Arctic Research Lab we were happy to spot our first Baird’s Sandpiper (rather uncharacteristically feeding in a marsh rather than its normal preferred gravel bar). Around the hunting cabins at the base of the point, we found that the locals were far too busy around the point joyriding in the quite pleasant temperatures (a bit over 50 degrees). This greatly reduced our chances at finding a Polar Bear, but the flyby flock of over a dozen Common Eider, and another distantly perched and even whiter male Snowy Owl provided great compensation. Some Pectoral Sandpipers were flying around with their pendulous chest sacs dangling while uttering their hollow whistled flight song. One bird perched up on a grassy hummock after his display, showing off its seemingly black chest and looking far more dramatic than the species ever does down south. I think that it is these type of encounters; where one sees birds doing seemingly out of character things (compared to their relatively staid life on migration) that really make birding in Barrow so satisfying. As one participant said, “it’s like seeing that old friends lead secret and flamboyant lives up in the arctic summer.” We headed off to bed, still under streaming sunshine very much looking forward to exploring more of the local tundra the following day.  

We awoke to find that the weather had taken quite a turn, with temperatures barely above freezing and a steady wind coming in off the still frozen ocean. Although initially sunny the day became increasingly foggy; not exactly ideal birding conditions. Our chief goal for the day was to try to find Steller’s and Spectacled Eiders on their breeding ponds. The Barrow tundra is a stronghold for both species, but possibly with the late spring and continuing ice their numbers seemed quite low this year. Our first salvo out into the tundra the prior day had failed to produce either species, so I suspect some participants were starting to get a bit worried. It didn’t take too long to assuage their concerns though, as shortly after breakfast we found a cooperative pair of Spectacled Eiders in a lake near the coast. The birds were comfortably swimming along the ice edge, seemingly nibbling on the organic froth that lined the ice. This amazingly attractive bird, with its odd green nape feathers, silky fold over its orange bill, and white goggles are one of the main targets of any birding tour to northern Alaska. This pair lingered until the next day, allowing us to see them on several occasions. Here too were a particularly photogenic pair of Pacific Loons and a handsome Ruddy Turnstone that looked quite sharp in its full breeding plumage.  

We then drove out Cakeater Road to the short side road that passes by the dump, here we were immersed in the sights and sounds of shorebirds, loons, Glaucous Gulls and various waterfowl all setting about the important business at hand. Even on an average spring much of the breeding here has to finish in a short few months, and on years such as this with a very late break-up and little sign of greening up tundra even near the end of June the time is even more precious. We met a couple of biologists with the USGS that were doing shorebird monitoring work in the area and they confirmed our suspicions that many species seemed to be late and/or in markedly lower numbers than typical. They explained that just a fortnight before our visit the entire area was under snow and ice. A rapid and strong warming trend melted much of the snow but wasn’t prolonged enough to break the ice caps over the larger lakes or the adjacent ocean. Then just as birds seemed to be starting to build nests it became cold again, seemingly putting a halt to much of the activity. Not all the local birds were put off though, as a bit later in the day along Nunuvaaq Road we found Jaegers putting on a memorable show, with all three species appearing over the road in front of us. These elegant (if menacing) aerial predators are more closely related to shorebirds than to gulls and terns, which they more closely resemble. For most North American birders, Jaegers are frustrating birds that are seen far offshore and often in confusing subadult plumages so it was lovely to see multiple adult birds with full tails at close range from the comfort of land. Also along this road we finally located a pair of Steller’s Eiders. The birds were quite close to the road, and we were able to watch them for some time as they slowly swam through the marshy pools, occasionally climbing up and over a low tundra patch before jumping into another pond. Male Steller’s are stunning with their mossy green patches in the lores and nape, apricot tinged chests, zebra-striped backs and even a black beauty mark oddly placed on the flank combining to make a really beautiful bird. The female is less boldly patterned, resembling a stocky and very dark teal with a bold white eyering, providing a great contrast to the largely pale male. 

At the southern end of the road, we were startled to see a huge and brand-new deep fissure running along the bluffs. The historically permafrost-laden coastline is thawing, with significant erosion exacerbated by more intense fall storms. Entire towns along the states western and northern shores are facing the prospects of having to move further inland due to ocean encroachment and erosion. It was a stark reminder of just how much and how quickly the Arctic climate is changing.  

The fog had largely dissipated by the time we met after a short midday break so we decided to check the salt lagoons again, finding another Baird’s Sandpiper and a most out-of-place looking Yellow-rumped Warbler that was gleaning insects on the mudflats like a diminutive shorebird. Although this species is a near annual vagrant up on the north slope the sighting marked our first here on a WINGS tour! Leaving the ponds we briefly scanned around at the base of the point in another attempt in spotting a distant bear out on the ice. For the rest of the evening outing we again explored the marshy tundra along Cakeeater Road. This proved a fortuitous decision as just a few tenths of a mile past the end of town we spotted three male Ruffs quietly feeding not too far off the road! Ruff are not annual in Barrow, and to see two fully bedazzled males, at such a close range was truly exceptional. One bird was a deep chestnut-red, with a black chest and the other was a silver/white and black marvel. The third individual was more sedately attired, with a mottled salt and pepper plumage and not fully developed ruff. This third bird might well have been the same individual that had been lingering in the area for about a week, although there had been no sightings of it in the prior three or four days. As is often the case with this species (and many high arctic birds) the birds seemed completely disinterested in us, allowing us to quietly watch and photograph them from less than 10 meters away. By the time we left the area to head back to town quite a crowd of appreciative shorebird biologists had converged on the spot, and even with a few dozen people lining the marsh edge the birds still continued on feeding.  

The next day we met up before breakfast, with the goal of checking to see if the Ruffs were still present for those that had opted not to join us for the evening outing. We picked a slightly circuitous route to Cakeeater which allowed us to once again check the South Salt Lagoons. This time, finally, we connected with a Red-necked Stint that was foraging along with a dozen or so Western and Semipalmated Sandpipers. Its orange-hued face and upper chest, warm fringed back feathers and unmarked white underparts made it stand out from its blander cousins quite well as we watched it run around the now-green mudflat for several minutes. This is an annual species in the Utquiagvik Region, with a few local breeding records in recent years. After missing this species in Nome this sighting was especially sweet, and proved that perseverance sometimes really does pay off. We then made our way over to the site where the Ruffs had been the previous night, and were amazed to find that the two fancier males were indeed still present. Ruffs display an amazing array of colours in breeding plumage, with the different morphs exhibiting different behaviors at a communal lek site. The predominantly red or black males form the core of the lek, defending individual territories in the leks center stage and competing for the attentions of visiting females. Males with predominantly white plumage tend to stick around the periphery of the lek site, hoping to mate with females lurking around the edges. Amazingly there are also smaller males which exhibit a female-like plumage and who rely on mating with females surreptitiously while the dominant males are distracted. We were very happy to have one of the dominant males and one of the satellite males to ogle at the same time; which allowed us to talk a bit about this species’ amazing breeding biology. The rest of the morning passed by quickly, as we revisited some of the local birding highlights (with repeat views of at least two different Snowy Owls, the Red-necked Stint, the pair of Spectacled Eiders and a wealth of local breeders). After lunch we set to packing up and getting organized for our mid-afternoon flight back to Anchorage. As the plane took off our views out the windows were impressive, with the sea ice still holding a firm grip along Alaska’s northern coast as far as we could see.  

We finished the tour back at our now very familiar base along the shoreline of Lake Hood, with a fine dinner some merry tales. I hope that this year’s participants enjoyed the array of birds, wildlife, scenery and experiences as much as I did, and I continue to view this tour as one of the best introductions possible to the beauty and richness of the far north reaches of our continent. 

-          Gavin Bieber

Back to Narratives