Taking A Puffin Break /  by Michael Johns

Every morning, following a hot cup of coffee and a quick tune in to NPR, we head up to our respective blinds to check a series of common murre plots. Using a map of known sites and a pair of binoculars, we scan the plots looking for birds that have laid an egg. It's at task that a times can be quite tedious, particular for sites tucked behind rocks or other birds, which makes it difficult to see their feet. The tedium, however, is occasionaly broken by a sighting of a blue whale just off the island, a surprise visit by a brown booby, or a fly by of a puffin, the islands most decorated bird. The photo above shows a tufted puffin coming in for a landing over a dense colony of common murres, holding nesting material in its bill. 

The Western Gull /  by Michael Johns

Many of the seabirds on the Farallones either breed underground, within rock crevices, or on inaccessible windward sea cliffs, and thus are not often seen during the day to day activities on the island. The one species, however, that dominates both the visible and audible landscape of the island is the Western Gull. These ubiquitous birds essentially nest on every patch of unoccupied space above the high tide line, and they aggressively defend those patches with tenacity. Currently most are still in the process of laying a full clutch of 3 eggs, but when those eggs finally hatch in a few weeks, their temperament will undergo a dramatic transformation. These aren't your typical passive gulls on the beach quietly stalking you french fries. Breeding Western Gulls become so determined to protect their chicks that we have to wear hard hats whenever leaving the house to shield our heads against the areal attacks. 

Stormy-petrels /  by Michael Johns

What makes people on the Farallones stop what they're doing for a field trip to "The Domes" to stare at the ocean? Well anything unusual really. In this particular photo, we are watching a large flock of fork-tailed storm-petrels which were spotted surfing in the breakers just off the intertidal rocks. An unprecedented event first because storm-petrels only approach the island at night and are almost never seen from shore during the day, and second because unlike ashy storm-petrels which breed on the Farallones, fork-tailed storm-petrels breed much further north in British Columbia and Alaska. We occasionally catch the odd fork-tailed during mist netting for ashies at night, but for the most part this northern species is a rare find off central California. We even had some flying into coves just below out feet at one of the island landing sites.

It has been said that storm-petrels are often seen in harbors and close to shore during approaching severe wind fronts, and mariners considered them indicators of fowl weather. This aligns with the 45 knot northwesterlies we've had over this past few days. There have also been reports further south of fort-tailed storm-petrels in Monterey Harbor and thousands more throughout Monterey Bay. 

Breakers In Fisherman's Bay /  by Michael Johns

Twelve species of seabirds and five species of pinnipeds (seals and sea lions) use the exposed granitic outcroppings of the Farallon Islands as a place to breed. During the peak of the summer season, close to 250 thousand seabirds can be found on Southeast Farallon, in burrows, crevices, terraces, and cliffs throughout the island. Part of the reason the Farallones is teaming with marine life are the productive waters that surround the islands; productivity that is driven by strong northwest winds. Spring winds cause deep nutrient-rich water to well up to the sunlit surface waters, sparking massive phytoplankton blooms that support a diverse marine food web. Over the past few days, we've been experiencing those strong northwest winds out here, with sustained speeds of 35 knots and gusts of over 45! While the wind makes it difficult for us to conduct our work, it's essential for providing food for the seabirds we study. The photo of the islets in Fisherman's Bay above shows huge swells and foamy seas wrapping around Sugar Loaf on the right. 

Back to the Farallones /  by Michael Johns

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Every 30 mile boat ride out to the Farallon Islands begins with a crossing under the Golden Gate Bridge. Unless of course you're leaving on a morning socked in with fog, which is not uncommon for coastal California. This will be my third summer season spent on Southeast Farallon Island, and early morning views like this never get old. I plan to post photos and brief stories of the work we do on the Farallones throughout the summer months, so follow this space if you're interested. 

Another Season Ending /  by Michael Johns

It finally happened again. Another winter in Fairbanks has come to pass, which means another aurora season is wrapping up. Last week, a pulse of warm air from the south took a toll on the snow pack here in Interior Alaska. Many of the roads are now ice free, and brown patches of bare dirt are gradually becoming exposed. The break up is upon us. The added solar input from increasingly longer days will soon transform this winter landscape into a sea of fresh green buds. With the arrival of green leaves comes the departure of green clouds, when the midnight sun once again overtakes the aurora in the "night" sky. A lull in auroral activity was suddenly broken yesterday evening by a brief geomagnetic storm (see data below), sparking potentially one of the last displays of northern lights we will see up here until darkness returns again in late August. 

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Ken's Pond and a Visit from Denise /  by Michael Johns

Spring break in Fairbanks means longer days, browner snow, and visitors from the south. This year we had my long-time friend Denise stay with us for a week to experience the best interior Alaska has to offer. Actually, showing her around town made us realize that Fairbanks isn't such a bad place to live after all, although we still have no intentions of staying beyond graduate school. Along with cocktails at Ursa Major, a brief lesson at the curling club, and the Museum of the North, the highlight of Denise's visit was an overnight trip to a public use cabin on Ken's Pond. Conditions were ideal for the five mile trek out, with sunny bluebird skies, a well packed trail, and sweeping views of the Alaska Range to the south. As a bonus on our way to the trailhead, we discovered where all the moose seem congregate during the winter, on a stretch of flat exposed land just south of Delta Junction used by the military as a landing strip. We counted at least 15 moose in one area, with 5 exhibiting herd-like behavior. 

The skies turned cloudy and full of fine snow as the night fell over the cabin, thwarting our plans of viewing the northern lights. Instead, we drank a bottle of champagne each and played Phase 10 in the warmth of a blazing wood-stove; a card game which I have no intentions of ever playing again. The clouds parted at sunrise, allowing for grand views of mountains steeped in a morning glow. The sun fully broke through by mid-morning, when we wrapped up our stay at the cabin with a celebratory sledding session across the frozen pond. 

Spring break always aligns with the timing of the World Ice Art Championships, where folks from all over the US and other countries travel to Fairbanks to create single and multi-block masterpieces. The impressive ice sculptures are accompanied by a playground of colorfully illuminated slides, rides, houses, and this year even a maze, all carved out of ice. 

After several nights with no luck, Denise finally got to see the aurora borealis on one of her last nights in Fairbanks. We drove up to Cleary Summit to get better views to the north, and managed to catch the lights before the rising of a nearly full moon. Not the most spectacular show, but enough to convince her of a second visit to the frozen north to try again. 

Pacific Seabird Group 2017 /  by Michael Johns

The Pacific Seabird Group held its annual conference this past week in Tacoma Washington, tame in comparison to last year's venue on the North Shore of Oahu. Still, it was great to here about all the new and exciting research being carried out on seabirds in the face of a rapidly changing marine environment. Last year I presented preliminary results on the drivers of double brooding in Cassin's auklets, work that was recently published. This year I presented new preliminary results on the movement patterns of Cassin's auklets from Southeast Farallon Island, using archival light sensing tags called geolocators. This information will help inform conservation of this species by answering basic questions of winter habitat use and distribution, thus identifying areas of special importance and favorable conditions. Stay tuned for further results. 

Phil /  by Michael Johns

This is Phil, an Anna's hummingbird that has taken up residence in the backyard of Casey's parent's house in Bellingham Washington. Anna's are the only species of hummingbird that overwinters in the Pacific Northwest, where temperatures can drop to near or below freezing. A feeder refilled every morning with a concentrated sugary brew fuels his daily activities. At night when temperatures begin to fall, Phil goes into a state of torpor, where his internal temperature also drops from 107 to around 48 degrees Fahrenheit. 

Bringing Reef Home /  by Michael Johns

Sunset scattering of Reefer dog at Soberanes Point, Big Sur. From left to right: Denise, Lydia, Renee, Rachel, Reef (in the box), Alex, Casey, Mike, Carl, Louie.

When our dog Reef died a year ago today, Casey and I decided it would be best to scatter his ashes in Big Sur, where he was born and where he spent many days during his younger years on hikes and walks on the beach. This past weekend, a group of my closest friends made the pilgrimage to Monterey Bay to celebrate the life of Reef and share stories of times past. At the edge of a cliff on Soberanes Point, just before the sun dipped below the sea, we toasted Reef with a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, said a few words, cried a bit, and one by one tossed a handful of his ashes into a calm offshore breeze. It was the perfect farewell to a dog who was once a giant figure in all of our lives. 

While in town, we visited all the old sites of our college years; including surfing in Santa Cruz and Hotel Beach in Seaside, an early morning whale watch on the bay, sunset at Moss Landing and Marina State Beach, and walks along the rec trail on the Peninsula. Casey and I met five years ago while I was working for the whale watch and he was finishing his masters at Moss Landing Marine Labs, so the Monterey area is a special place for both of us. In the first few minutes of 2017, while dancing to a bluegrass band in the pub where we had our "first date", I asked Casey to marry me. He of course said yes. We had been talking about getting married for a while now, and the time just felt right. 

The four days we spent on the Monterey Bay were filled with sunny days, striking sunsets, familiar wildlife, and gorgeous scenery. Most importantly it was great to catch up with some of my favorite people, remember the past, and embrace the future. 

Return to Fielding Lake /  by Michael Johns

Casey and I set out on our first Alaska public use cabin trip on New Years Eve two years ago to a place called Fielding Lake, roughly three hours south of Fairbanks along the Richardson Highway. With a cheap Fred Meyer sled that buckled under the weight of excessive fire wood and gear, we walked the short two miles with our late dog Reef to a small cabin situated next to a calm stream within a snowcapped valley. To celebrate the end of a long semester, Casey and I decided to pay a second visit to the Fielding Lake cabin, this time with less weight, a beefier sled, and our new pup Noosa. 

Fair weather and warm temps (for the sub-Arctic) made for a pleasant walk out, with stunning views of the surrounding peaks and stark windswept landscape. A golden sunset mirrored over the unfrozen outlet of the lake, before dipping below the ridge line just after 2pm. Our visit happened to coincide with the winter solstice, with a day length of only three hours and forty minutes at this latitude. 

Our visit to the Fielding Lake cabin also happened to coincide with the arrival of a steady stream of solar wind spewing from a massive hole in the Sun's atmosphere. Space weather forecasters predicted Earth would enter this solar stream during the night of our stay, expected to cause intense displays of Aurora Borealis. The timing, it seems, was a bit off. After checking the sky between games of cribbage and chatting around the wood stove, only minor auroral displays were visible. Still, I managed to capture a few solid bands of green over the cabin before a haze of clouds moved in to coat the landscape with a fresh blanket of snow. 

Alaska Bird Conference, Cordova /  by Michael Johns

Every few years, researchers studying birds in Alaska gather for a small conference to share ideas and report on their findings. This year, the Alaska Bird Conference was held in Cordova, a sleepy fishing town tucked away in a remote arm of Prince William Sound. Noteworthy talks included a report on the recent mass die-off of common murres and subsequent near total breeding failure throughout the Gulf of Alaska and Bering Sea, and new evidence supporting a virus as the likely source of a deadly outbreak of beak deformities effecting black-capped chickadees and hundreds of other bird species across Alaska. My main reason for attending, aside from these talks and presenting the work I'm doing with Point Blue on Cassin's auklets, was to get away from the interior for a week and see the ocean again. 

Keeping the Camera Up At Night /  by Michael Johns

With a busy schedule at school, and an early morning gym routine, staying up until 2am to watch the aurora has been low on my priority list. A recent barrage of geomagnetic storms, and subsequent photos being posted on social media however, are beginning to make me feel the auroral itch once again. Luckily, I can get my rest and photos at the same time by letting the camera do all the work. Below is a brief low resolution timelapse of several hours of aurora a few nights back. The green clouds rolled through consistently all night, with occasional bursts of bright pinks and whites that managed to overexpose a few frames. The camera was set to take as many consecutive photos as possible before the battery ran out. Watch closely, and you can pinpoint the exact moment I went to sleep. Enjoy.

Calculating Growth /  by Michael Johns

Figure 1. Noosa's predicted growth (blue line) as a function of her age. Polynomial equation derived from actual weight measurements (orange points) from 6 different vet visits throughout her development. 

The most popular question we get from people who meet our dog Noosa for the first time is, "She's huge for a puppy! How big will she get?". Since Noosa's is a mix of many different breeds, specifically Maremma, Saint Bernard, Newfoundland, Great Pyrenees, and Bernese Mountain Dog (see family photos below), we can't just look at examples of other dogs to gauge her final adult size. There's no doubt she'll be big, but just how remains a bit of a mystery? One way to estimate this is to use a model based on her observed weights to predict how much she might weigh in the future. A simple approach is to fit the observed values with a polynomial equation (Fig. 1), which doesn't perform well for ages less than 20 days old (negative weights), but fits the rest of the data pretty well. Another method would be to use more complex equations with additional terms, such as Von Bertalanffy model or some other growth equation. Either way, based on a simple polynomial fit, it looks like she will likely max out at just over 80 pounds; which is what we would expect based on her parental recipe. 

The mom

The dad (right)

The Dalton Highway /  by Michael Johns

Alaska is a vast place with a rich natural history. Such an expanse of land across different elevations and latitudes creates many different biomes to explore. For those who haven't taken an introductory ecology course, a biome is a community of distinct plant and animal species, characterized by a particular climate and typically dominated by a specific vegetative assemblage. Tropical rainforests, deserts, and open oceans are a few examples of different biomes. So far in Alaska, collectively Casey and I have visited the temperate rainforests of Southeast, the islands of the Gulf of Alaska and Bering Sea, the ice edge of the Chuckchi Sea, and of course the neverending boreal forest of the interior; but we have yet to spend much time in the tundra of the North Slope. The tundra is a unique circumpolar biome characterized by extremely cold temperatures, limited drainage, low biotic diversity, underlying permafrost, and a short growing season. Plants that do manage to take hold in such difficult conditions, namely bearberry, labrador tea, and caribou moss, exhibit a stunted growth pattern to avoid the harsh winds that whip across the flat landscape. Animals that use the tundra are often migratory, with only a few species that stick around and brave the winter elements after a brief arctic summer.  

Fortunately, for those who want to visit the tundra of Alaska, access to the North Slope is relatively easy. The James W. Dalton Highway was constructed in 1974 to support the building of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline System. It snakes its way north to Deadhorse from the junction of the Elliot Highway just outside of Fairbanks. Nicknamed the "Haul Road", this 414 mile stretch of a bumpy mixed gravel and pavement is mainly used by truckers to service the pipeline and the oil fields of Prudhoe Bay. Due to its remoteness and hazardous driving conditions, the Dalton Highway is considered to be one of the most isolated and dangerous roads in the US.  Naturally, with an interest in natural history and exploring new places, Casey and I grabbed the dog, packed the truck, and took the drive this past Labor Day weekend. 

It took us about 9 hours to drive 350 miles from Fairbanks to just north of Atigun Pass on day one, where we set up camp at a primitive BLM site near Galbraith Lake. Throughout the drive the landscape changed from mixed stands of spruce and birch in fall colors, to high alpine tundra, back to more mixed forests in the Brooks Range, and eventually the tundra of the north. The Galbraith Lake site offered stunning views of the mountains to the south and endless tundra to the north. On day two, we continued north another 140 miles, following the pipeline to the end of the road at Deadhorse just 8 miles shy of the Beaufort Sea. Access to the Arctic Ocean is restricted to the public unless you take a private tour. We topped off the fuel tank in Deadhorse and returned south again for a second night a Galbraith Lake, a total of 10 hours of driving. On the final day, under cloudy skies and a thin blanket of fresh snow, we made our way back towards Fairbanks. 

Prior to our trip, an active region on the Sun opened up and began spewing solar wind in the direction of Earth. The lag time for solar particles to reach our atmosphere meant that the timing was perfect for G1 class storms across the arctic during out first night at Galbraith Lake. It also just so happened to the most beautifully clear skies possible, and just after sunset, Casey and I witnessed the most impressive aurora borealis we've seen yet. The sky was electric. Bright greens and pinks energetically swept over our campsite, arching and flowing from the horizon like a massive fluorescent river. Quite possibly the most incredible natural event either of us have ever experienced. Casey enjoyed this show in particular since he was able to comfortably watch the lights from the tent, snug within his zero degree sleeping bag. The word "WOW" was uttered many times. 

Along with spectacular scenery, gorgeous weather, and stunning aurora, our trip was rife with interesting wildlife sightings. We were hoping to catch a glimpse of Alaska's famous large mammals during our long drive north, particularly muskox, which range throughout the arctic regions of Greenland, Canada, and Alaska. The name muskox is a bit of a misnomer, since they are actually more closely related to sheep and goats than oxen. Their dense wool coat and thick layer of fat keep them insulated during the cold long winters of the far north. They graze on arctic vegetation in low lying wetlands in the summer, migrating into higher elevations during the winter to avoid deep snow. Historic populations of muskox in Alaska were completely wiped out by intense hunting pressure in the late 1920's. Alaska's current wild population of a few thousand individuals are the result of a successful relocation program. In the 1930's, a small herd captured from an intact population in Greenland was brought to Fairbanks and eventually transferred to Nunivak Island, where their numbers exploded. Some of these animals were finally released into the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge in the 1970's, where the population is now considered to be stable. Other sightings included Dall sheep crossing the road at Atigun Pass and a large bull moose just within the Brooks Range. 

In the end, it was a trip worth the effort. A great send off to summer and a much needed getaway before the start of the fall semester. 

Fall Colors /  by Michael Johns

Night has returned to the far north, and with it comes the possibility of viewing the northern lights once again. Earth is constantly being bombarded with material from the sun, igniting huge displays of aurora near the poles during episodes of peak solar activity. Such displays are possible year-round, however, they can only be seen after the sun goes down. Something that doesn't happen during the summer months at or near the arctic circle. Late last night, several hours after sunset, Casey and I were treated to a brilliant fall aurora; the first showing of the 2016/17 season. Bright green bands swirled above our cabin, lighting up our driveway like a giant nightlight. Nature's fireworks are much more pleasant to watch when temperatures remain above freezing. 

Great Alaskan Road Trip /  by Michael Johns

Recently spent 10 days on the road traveling with friends from Kachemak Bay in the south to Fairbanks in the north, with Denali Park sandwiched in the middle. Stayed several nights staging for the journey in Anchorage, followed by 3 nights on Kayak Beach across the bay from Homer on the Kenai Peninsula, then a quick night at Byers Lake cabin in Denali State Park, finishing the trip with a few nights of hot tubbing at a large rental in rainy Fairbanks. Selected photos follow. Enjoy. 

Linocut Printing /  by Michael Johns

In preparation for another long winter ahead, and to combat the lack-of-ocean blues we’ve been experiencing up here, Casey and I have decided to take up linocut printing. It’s a style of art similar to wood block printmaking; made by gouging designs into soft blocks of linoleum using special chisel-like tools. Ink is then rolled onto the linoleum block using a brayer and transferred to a sheet of paper by hand with a baren. Any raised or un-carved areas of the block show up as the ink color used for the “pull”. Essentially, you’re creating an oversized stamp. Many original prints in an “edition” can be made from a single block carving, and multiple colors can be applied by carving away the block with each successive pull, known as a reduction print.

Sketch of a pigeon guillemot next to the carved block ready for printing.

Pulling the second layer of black using the jig. 

For my first piece, I choose a two-color reduction print of a pigeon guillemot on water. It all started with a piece of reference art sketched out and colored in to get an idea of what the finished print would look like. The outline of the guillemot was then traced onto the block using carbon paper. I carved away all of the areas I wanted to remain white, such as the outline of the bird, its wing patches, and ripples in the water. I then rolled red ink onto the block and transferred the pattern to 16 sheets of paper. It took several days for this first coat of red to dry. Next, I carved away only the areas that I wanted to stay red, which were the feet and a small sliver within the bill. I then rolled on a coat of black ink and transferred the image on top of the red layer, using a homemade jig to ensure the layers would line up and come into registration. The jig worked okay, but there were some issues getting the two layers aligned for some of the prints. You can see in the above photos of the finished prints hanging to dry, that most of the red was covered up by the final coat of black. Lessons were learned from this first attempt and adjustments will be made going forward. Coming up next, a three-color reduction of a whiskered auklet. 

Layer 1 - Red

Layer 2 - Black