Franks Day Off

Here is a link to a post that one of our guests wrote about one of my tours. It is his perspective of a great day on the water at Knight Inlet Lodge.
Hope you enjoy.



http://www.knightinletlodge.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/Whales-Franks-day-off3.pdf

Its Really all About the Salmon

Once again this year, we are watching and wondering about the salmon returns to the Glendale River in Knight Inlet. According to the DFO weekly counts, the return is far below what the 2010 out migration of 20 million salmon fry should produce. Last count I heard was about 80 thousand adult pinks have returned to spawn. Early estimates hoped for up to a million returning pinks, even half that would be possible in good ocean conditions. That count may go up, but normally by this time of year all the fish are lying in the deep river pools. At the same time we are listening to reports from the Cohen Commission on the sockeye collapse of 2009 and wonder if anything will actually come out of spending millions of dollars on another exercise in futility. One company pointing blame fingers at the other, the environmentalists pointing at industry and the government pleading innocence, confusion, lack of funding, low staff numbers and muzzling of key scientists. One scientist disagrees with others, doctors of this and doctors of that who cannot or do not want to cooperate with each other for fear of tumbling their own house of cards in the gamble to appear to correct the apparent demise of wild salmon.

In the meantime, the time honoured struggle by the salmon to propagate their species continues in innumerable rivers along the west coast of North America. Everyday the salmon face more obstacles than we can count, both man made and natural. It is these challenges that make me pause to wonder at their unselfish determination. Everyday I stand along side the river observing salmon waiting patiently in the deep pools for their body's hormones to complete the metamorphosis from powerful, sleek, silver ocean fish to the dark, ragged and torn specimen, determined to spawn in the river of their birth. The females grow dark green with pink highlights as their eggs ripen once they hit the fresh river water. The males also grow dark green with yellow and pink highlights; their backs grow into a large hump and their jaws become more hooked with large canine teeth. These transformations happen relatively quickly, over about 6 weeks. I watched the first salmon female digging her redd the other day until she was chased off temporarily by an eagle looking for a fishy meal.

Some of our guests wonder why these fish turn so ugly as they prepare to spawn. I often equate our own pregnant female with the spawning salmon. I have never found them to be beautiful either. I do admire the dedication and the beauty that the salmon have for their mates, even though they are "ugly!" Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I continue to understand and appreciate the beauty of the natural world.

I watch as the salmon finally leave the security of the deep, tannin stained pools, in a rush through the shallows to get to their final spawning site. Sometimes they go as a mob, rushing, splashing, scurrying through shallow riffles, hoping to confuse a waiting, predatory bear or eagle. It seems that there may be safety in numbers as the odds of getting "me" lessen, may motivate this rush, like a beach head attack on D-day. Occasionally they sneak up, one at a time, hoping nobody will notice their strategic advance.

Of course, every once in a while the bear wins. As cheerleaders, watching this age old contest, we often have mixed feelings about which team to cheer for. We know how crucial it is for the bear to get the maximum calories that it needs to have a fat cushion for the coming 5 months of fasting hibernation. On years when there is a large enough salmon return, it is not so difficult to cheer for the bears. During the bear feast, when they need 50 thousand or more calories per day, we know that it requires a lot of fish to satisfy this hyperphagia. ( I figure about 2000 calories per fish).

On years when there are few salmon our loyalties are challenged, understanding how important it is to the long term health of the environment that each salmon makes it to spawn, before getting eaten.

In the meantime, all we can do as interested spectators is to raise awareness and understanding of the plight of the salmon and bears. As the salmon are a "keystone" species and the bears are "top of the food chain" species, both of their secure, strong numbers will ensure that the whole environment around them will also be healthy. Irregardless of what Justice Cohen decides next year, the healthy wilderness still comes down to the courage, the determination and the wisdom of each animal to survive and continue the struggle to propagate their own species.

www.seasonsofthegrizzly.com

One WOW Day

As I begin each day I wonder; "what is going to happen today? Is this going to be a Wow day? Can I make it into a Wow day for my guests?"

A Wow day that just occurred last week began as I prepared for a marine tour from Knight Inlet Lodge. I packed the lunch and drinks then my personal gear such as my "oh crap, we're sinking bag" rubber boots, sunglasses and camera bag. I made sure my 7 guests had all the stuff they needed to make their day comfortable and that we all had a final pee.

I had in hand a picture of a native pictograph that I wanted to try to find and thought that Billy Proctor would be able to help me.

The day was bright and clear with no wind. The inlet water was a mirror, reflecting high clouds, snow capped mountains and forests. The first highlight was the sighting of a monstrous eagle nest, perched high above the forest canopy in the dead top of a cedar tree. It must have been used for decades, rather than years. We wondered how many trips it took for the eagles to build this mansion on the hill?

After about an hour we arrived at Lagoon Cove, a marina with a permanent population of 4. Boats and yachts plying the waters of the inside passage often stop here for fuel, safe anchorage and news. It is a scenic setting in the sheltered waters of East Cracroft Island where you can set out your crab and prawn traps for a taste of delicious west coast sea food. Pat gave our guests a lesson on the life cycle of prawns and dungeness crabs. Off we headed after a pee and chocolate bar refill, down Clio channel, pausing for a chat at the Bennett Point fish farm.

I accidentally found the pictograph that I was searching for on the point of land just outside the abandoned native village of Karlekwees. Interesting what you can see when you pause for a look once in a while instead of rushing, willy nilly, here and there. After passing through Wilson Pass into Baronette passage we paused tor tea at Cracroft Point. We were monitoring the radio, listening to professional whale watching companies for any news of elusive orcas. They are big animals, but the ocean is bigger. There were no orca reports but there were humpbacks in Blackfish Sound. The waters of Johnstone Strait were flat, there were commercial fishing boats moving about and plenty of sea birds to watch. We paused for a few seals hauled out on some partially exposed rocks, then a postcard photo of a trawler coming toward us. We spent a few minutes marvelling at a seiner as it was bringing in it's net full of salmon, only 1 scoop, so not too productive. We had lunch with a pair of humpback whales who were feeding nearby, making sure that Rose got her cup of tea.

We observed at least 8 different whales in the vicinity so after lunch was packed away I began following a pair, any pair would do. All of a sudden, from out of nowhere, a humpback breached, right beside the boat. I saw the splash and heard the exclamations of surprise from my guests and stopped the boat to let the whales move off a bit. In the next minute and 35 seconds, according to Frank's video, we saw them breech 7 times. Unbelievable power and strength, mighty splashes accompanied by great grunts and whistles from the whales too. Other boats began to crowd around us as we watched, in awe of Mother Nature's power. What was happening here? Are they mating or just enjoying life? We looked at one another in wonder, filled with emotions, bubbling over with enthusiasm and excitement. After a few more minutes, we all knew that nothing more could be better than this so we headed for Billy Proctor's Museum, near Echo Bay.

Rose wanted to buy a book. She has become enamoured by Billy and his story. We enjoyed Billy's philosophical and humorous stories as he toured us through his junk and his newly built hand loggers or trappers shack. His shack was made from one cedar log, hand split and sawn with about 20 pounds of nails."It ain't much, but it's a damn sight better than sleeping under an overturned rowboat or leaky tarp on the beach!" he exclaims, knowing from personal experience, all three shelters. He described to me where there are 3 more sets of pictographs to be found along our route home.

With Rose's books in hand, we bid our goodbyes and left on that search.

True to his description, we found 2 of them, right where he said they would be, "on the bluff just before the gravel beach about a mile and a half beyond that new log dump. Look behind you and up a bit." We did not have time for the others, so they will be for another trip.

By the time supper was served, my guests were the envy of all the guests at the lodge. This was their Wow day and they felt like stars, which is my job to make them feel!

It's Often the Little Things

More and more often I am finding that the little creatures are making many of my tours memorable. We tout our trips to see whales, grizzly bears and scenery, but often times these top of the food chain creatures have their own agenda which may not agree with ours. Tide levels, food availability, timing and weather can all conspire against our best efforts to show our guests the highlight predators we all hope to see and cross off our bucket lists. Last week I had two tours out to Johnston Strait to hopefully see Orcas and Humpback whales. The weather worked with us, albeit quite heavy waves coming up the inlet with the inflow winds in the afternoons for our rides home. The tides were favorable to see some black bears grazing on the beaches and Johnston Straight flat as glass and sunny. Finally we spotted the Orca fins, inside the Robson Bight Nature reserve so we sat on the invisible border, guided by the GPS, and watched distant fins and vapor blows as the small Orca pod slowly swam up strait about 200 to 300 meters away. These sightings can try the patience of Job, so after about an hour of that, a bobbing lunch on the boat and a washroom break badly needed we headed for Telegraph Cove. No encouraging news blared out over the radio so we decided to head towards Billy Proctor's museum. Just across the strait lies Stubbs Island and the Plumper Islands. which is the mouth of Knight Inlet, where we spotted a Humpback Whale. We followed it at a respectful distance for half an hour or so then off we were again. A large flock of gulls were busily diving on the water so I decided to investigate that. Hundreds of gulls, scores of Rhinoceros Auklets and Common Murres were diving into a Herring Ball, feeding and screaming frantically over this bounty. I parked the boat about 50 feet away and shut down the big engines so we could all take in this spectacle. Soon the Bald Eagles joined in, scattering the gulls. The eagles lined up like at a busy airport, one after the other, gliding in and picking herring out of the water. None of us had ever seen such a feeding frenzy, such spectacular flying abilities or such numbers of birds all working to pick up an easy meal. For 10 minutes we watched , as the birds combined with the beautiful flat water and spectacular scenery held us spell bound. Suddenly from the dark depths rose a dark Leviathan, like an island emerging from the deep, a humpback whale spouted amongst the frantic birds. Another quickly followed, then a third whale rose to take in a mouthful of herring and just as quickly sink back into the depths. None of us could believe what we had just witnessed. Over and over the whales emerged to blow and eat, scattering the protesting flocks to the safety of the skies above. Even a few Pacific White Sided Dolphins joined in to feed. For half an hour we sat there quietly, taking in one of Mother Natures great events, a sight I am sure will stay with us all for a long time. We headed home, knowing that the little creatures of the strait had provided us, once again, memories for a highlight reel on our holiday and job. I get paid to do this!

Dramatic Season of Babies

The spring has been particularly cool and that cold, wet weather has carried on into the first month of summer 2011. Even so, life goes on for us and the wildlife. Mating season is over for the bears and for us it was amazing to witness. We saw black bears mating and it was not so easy for either mate. The boar had a huge gash below his eye and another chunk out of his cheek, but he had the sow. They argued quite often as they wandered around for three or four days together. At the same time we watched one of our regular female grizzlies, first chase her son, "Peanut" away and take up with a male named "Pretty Boy." a few days later she was with "Bruno." After a few days with him there was a big bear fight between Bruno and and new male we called "Clyde." Talk about a furious scrap on the beach, but then we saw Lenore with Clyde. After about a week or so another male showed up and took over from where Clyde left off. Lenore was making sure she was well fertilized and the last I saw her, she was by herself, once again the solitary bear, as she is meant to be. For now, she will carry her fertilized eggs called "blastocysts", floating around her womb until she begins hibernation. At that time, her body will decide if she is carrying enough fat reserves to feed her and nurse her new cubs. If she is healthy enough the blastocysts will attach to the uterine wall and become a foetus.

The most important and always most dramatic for all of us is when the bears present us with their new cubs. Both black and grizzly bears have brought their shy new babies down to the shoreline to be introduced to the people who watch respectfully from boats nearby. The black bear brings her babies past the lodge regularly, scraping barnacles and mussels from the rocks and foraging for berries overhanging the slippery, rock weed covered rocks. They seem never tempted by the delicious odors of baking or barbecuing, emanating from the kitchen. As they are first exposed to humans, the bear cubs are very worried and we can often hear them muttering excitedly to their mom about the dangers coming closer from the water. Mother bear is, in turn, soothing their fears with quiet whispers as she carries on grazing on the sedge or turning rocks over for the succulent inter-tidal life hidden beneath. She must weigh her family safety with a calculated risk of trust she has built over the past seasons with the humans who live in her home range. So far they have done nothing to hurt or disturb her and she feels a certain comfort by their presence. She has also learned that the large male bears are not so sure about the people, so they tend to hang back in the safety of the deep, dark forest lining the shore. A couple days ago, one of those male grizzles decided to risk all and attacked the mother grizzly with two cubs. It only took a few seconds and the fury of a mother bear protecting her babies was demonstrated. She had him by the throat and flipped onto his back about as quickly as I can type this. The cubs hid quickly under a stump while their mother dealt with the threat to their young lives. There was a whole lot of chuffing and snuffing and posturing until dominance was established and the male bear headed for safer territory. I do not want to see the bears hurt, but I do admire how they deal with their problems. The situation is dealt with immediately, with no waffling or discussion. The problem is solved, one way or the other and life then goes on. There do not seem to be any grudges held, just memories and their hierarchy is established. Life goes on by comforting and reassuring her cubs, sedge grazing, nursing and a nap.

The bears are so very dramatic but no more important than all the other creatures living in the forest around us. I watched the other day as a river otter was startled by our sudden appearance and warned her new kits to hide in the forest above the rocky shoreline. They had trouble scrabbling over the slippery rocks and could not move fast enough to suit mother, so she bravely risked her own safety to grab each kit by the scruff of the neck and drag them, one by one, to the securety of the bush. This immediately brought my question to mind for my amazed guest: "which one of your kids would you have grbbed first, the closest one or the favored one?" When danger threatens us, how would we react, is there a favored one or does instinct just kick in to do the best we can at the time?

Around the eaves of the lodge and in the bird houses are scores of baby barn and tree swallows, all squabbling over the food the parents gather by swooping through the air after insects. Frantically, they fly, over the water, high in the air above the forest, from first light to can't see evening, they flutter hurriedly, noisily, trying to satisfy the always agaped bills facing them as they settle onto the rim of their nest.

Hummingbirds buzz, eagles scream the osprey cries, the loons yodel and the crows and ravens squawk from the distance. Everyone is trying to raise their families while protecting them from the maurading predators. Daily, we witness cooperating little birds gang up on larger, more dangerous predatory ones.

Up in the heights of the forest, I watched a couple weeks ago a Pacific-sloped flycatcher build her nest under an overhanging rock ledge. Last week I saw her incubating it. The same day I saw a roughed grouse with her little chicks, pecking grit along the roadside.

A couple days later I found the first glaucous winged gull baby that I have ever seen. "Ugly cute" is how I describe that thing. How can such a beginning result in such beauty. The baby gull doesn't wander far from the protective wing of it's devoted mom. Good thing for mothers and we now know where the saying comes from: "Something only a mother could love."

The flowers are blooming, turning to seeds and fruit already. The leaders of new growth on the conifer trees has already beagan to darken and the salmon berries are ripe. Huckleberries and elderberries are turning color, soon ready to feed the birds and bears of the forest.

There is also sadness on the water. I found several dolphins and one seal that had died, most I think were youngsters who did not survive birth. The seal still had it's umbilicle cord attached. Sharp eyed eagles had found these carcasses before I did and were taking advantage of this bounty to feed their youngsters. Life goes on!

How can anyone be bored when such miracles take place before our very eyes as we sit quietly in our boats or on our butts in the forest. Slow down and enjoy Mother Nature's miracles as they progress through the seasons.

http://www.seasonsofthegrizzly.com/

Mating Grizzly Bears

I have been watching the grizzly bear sow named "Lenore" for 5 years now. The year I met her she had a new cub we soon dubbed "Burnt Peanut." (they illustrate the front cover of my book Seasons of the Grizzly) This was a cute little bundle of bristly dark fur, whining and complaining about her lot in life continuously. Lenore was a patient, to a point, mother who was also a very strong disciplinarian. Many times we watched her smack her cub to bring it into grizzly bear line. Many of us think that this was the cause of the cubs demise in July 2007. We all felt the sorrow of losing our first cub and could sense Lenore's sadness. The following spring she was bred by one of the males in the cove and in the spring 2009, she presented us with a new cub we soon named BPll. (Burnt Peanut the second.) This cub was much more independent and willingly searched for his own food, mimicking mother's actions. He learned all of Lenore's methods of finding food; eating sedge, rolling rocks to get the at gunnels, shore crabs and sea creepy crawlies, where the best berries were found, chewing mussels off the rocks and pilings, digging roots and fishing for slippery salmon. Lenore was a good mom and BP was a good student. Peanut grew big and strong under her capable tutelage. He learned about bear behavior, denning, hibernation, eating, rub tree etiquette, fishing, bear hierarchy, big male threat and dominance, other animals such as wolves and cougar, good berries, muddy oily wallows, swimming, birds, humans, vehicles, boats, kayaks and what else we don't know. This past week we watched as Peanut was set free on his own by Lenore and the new man in her life, a bear we named "Pretty Boy." This has been a few days of high tension and stress for all the bears around the cove, especially BP. Peanut has already settled down to eating after just a few days of his new solitary existence. He will be a solitary bear for most of the rest of his life, only during mating season if he is lucky, will he hang around other bears. He now has to utilize the tools his mother gave him to survive.

Lenore has now begun a new cycle of bear life. We estimate her to be about 10 years old and has so far raised one bear cub to the best of her ability and influence. Her time to breed has come and she took up with a very handsome male bear. She went with the smooth good looks rather than the more powerful and rugged type like Bruno. Perhaps in a later session, Bruno or another male will get the opportunity to mate with Lenore. Grizzly Bear mating is certainly not for the faint of heart. This is a very rough game of coy flirtation, making eyes, soft moaning discussion and powerful arguments. Sheer determination, bluff calling, loud roaring, threats of violence, defense and a will to endure the vagaries of the hormone overloaded female in estrus finally get PB his reward. PB finally called Lenore's bluff and wandered off down the low tide estuary and swam the river to cool off. It only took a few minutes and Lenore was in hot pursuit, chasing after his disappearing backside. He waited on the other side of the river for her to catch up, then with a few tender words was able to breed. The actual breeding took about 4 or 5 minutes followed by an intense argument and more threats of physical violence. The estuary inhabitants all heard their discussions and watched as they crossed the river to the bush line where they mated once more. All day long the bears were observed together or apart, depending upon their moods.

Peanut was one of the most confused as he watched and heard his mother's antics. She was not acting like his mom normally did. Peanut wandered close and was chased away, he watched from a safer distance, from a log, from the forest or from the mud flat. He finally gave up trying to figure all these new antics out and went down to fill his ever empty belly with a great meal of salad, gunnels and mussels, topped off with a nice nap.

It is difficult not to anthropomorphize the wildlife we observe. We can easily compare their lifestyles to our own. It is not a great stretch to see BP as one of our own teenagers as they leave home to begin a new career, out of the protective gaze of their mother. We all have known people with a volatile relationship with the other sex and the passions that go with it. We have all know the confusion of children who are pushed to the side when their parents take up with a new mate, and are not the center of attention any longer.

We silently cheer for Burnt Peanut ll when we see him on the beach, doing what all bears are supposed to do; eat.

We wish Lenore all the success that she deserves as she tries to raise a new bear family. Hers is not an easy job.

There I go, once again comparing a bear mom to any mom.

Please help to stop the bear hunt in B.C.

http://www.seasonsofthegrizzly.com/

Kiight Inlet Lodge First Week of the Season

The weather was pretty good, the lodge had a few kinks to work out, the water was flat and the guests were great for the first week. What more can you ask for? Wildlife! Every tour had good, even great wildlife encounters that our guests will remember for years. Gary and Rita have been here 6 times I think and they finally saw a whale. The humpback whale spent a whole afternoon in and around the cove, entertaining all of us, the guests and staff. Pacific white sided dolphins were everywhere, scooping up baitfish up and down the inlet. I hazard a guess to estimate several hundred dolphins in the inlet. Perhaps this is not good for the environment and for small fish, including salmon.

We visited Billy Proctor and his museum and he told us that just a few years ago we would have very rarely seen these dolphins at all. They were considered to be an "off shore" critter, feeding out in the deep ocean. What has changed to bring them inside? Must be food or their predators, the transient orcas. Connie and her son Kyle had a special visit by a pair of dolphins. We were motoring across the mouth of the cove on a calm morning when suddenly one of them jumped right in front of the boat. Monty was hanging over the gunwale and was so surprised he flung himself backwards and fell onto the floor, blessed by the dolphin's snotty splash. Amongst the peels of laughter, everyone crowded the front of the pontoon boat to watch the dolphin antics. They seemed to be as curious about us as we were of them. Connie laid on the floor with the door open, reaching out to touch them. Eye to eye they watched each other, the dolphins swimming easily with the front of the boat. Kyle was busy trying to get photos to take home to show his dad. There are no dolphins in Montana.

If you ever get the chance, visit Billy's museum in Simoom Sound, next door to Echo Bay in the Broughton Archepelego at the mouth of Knight Inlet. Billy was raised here and was a logger and fisherman for most of his 80 years. The museum is made up of, in his words; "a pile of junk collected off the beaches and old settlements." It includes old bottles of all descriptions, including opium bottles that were filled and doled out to Chinese workers for part of their wages in fish cannery's. Hand logging equipment, fishing gear, photographs, a cedar trappers cabin, fully stocked and ready to go and his gift shop full of local books and art work.

"Come and see my fish pond, the damm mink are eating my coy, the frogs have moved in and they make a hellofa racket." Billy is chattering away as we stroll along the boardwalk. "We had a hellofa wind this winter, north easters, damm near blew me away. I was log salvaging all winter and had to hide out a few times cause of the big wind. I remember one time at the head of Knights the wind blew 80 miles an hour, waves 12 feet and I was trying to hang on in the Anhuati but my hook wouldn't hold. I was scare to round the point to the sheltered bay. I probably would have tipped over, so I rode her out there. In the winter of 1951 there was 51 feet of snow piled up on the flats at the head. The deer were trapped on the beach between the high snow banks and the tide. Hundreds of them died right there." Historical anecdotes flow from Billy in an interesting and easy manner. He has written 3 books about life along his part of the world and I am sure there could be many more stored away. "Just a bunch of useless bullshit," he says, "but people seem to like it."

Lenore and Peanut have emerged from their den. I first spotted them over in Siwash bay and they wandered across the hump into Glendale within a couple days. Peanut does not know it yet but pretty soon his mom is going to chase him away and take up with a boyfriend.
Here is mother and son taking a siesta on the old driftwood log on the beach. Any place is a good place to snooze a warm afternoon away.


Bruno is back for the fifth straight year that I have seen him. We estimate him to be at least 20 years old, so Lenore will be cozying up to him soon. Look out for Bruno, Peanut. Here is my first Bruno photo of this year. He stays well back from the river and shyly retreats to the forest as soon as he sees us. There is always a bit of a blood pressure rise whenever we see such a magnificent animal. It is Bruno that keeps us all on our toes as we wander in the forest around the estuary. An encounter with him is the wild in wildnerness.

We had a bird watching course last week, a refresher by a renowned birder, Art Martell and our friend Charlie Vaughn. Now we are all excited whenever we see a new bird. I have added at least 6 new birds to my list and feel a lot more confident in naming many others. More to follow about birds after we do the bird point count in June.

All these experiences are what make the trips to the lodge so special for our guests. They go home with memories of their unexpected experiences with the wildlife, even little things like the birds and otters. Every encounter leaves an impression and raises awareness of the wilderness plight. Guys like Billy, industrialists like Connie and even myself, all people who made a living, taking resources like fish and logs from the wilderness are slowly spreading the word to whomever will listen,"we can't continue to take from Mother Nature and not put something back!" Please don't strip her bare, leave something wild for my grandson to see."

http://www.seasonsofthegrizzly.com/