“August in Minnesota” has a connotation to it for those who have lived here long enough. Hot, sticky, humid days boost electricity bills as air-conditioners stay on full time to beat the heat. A result of the moist conditions is heavily dewed grass in the mornings. I stepped outside and thick fog hung in the air. It was 7:00 AM, and the sun was beginning to burn through the mist with some filtered reds and oranges. A large moon hung high in the sky, and my truck passed under it on my way to our land in Butler, Minnesota. Pulling up, I unlocked the gate and pushed it open. Dew hung heavy on the grass and bejeweled thousands of spider webs across the 30 acre pasture. In a few moments I had my camera in hand as I passed through the knee high grass.
Many of us have a location that we’ve visited many times, and a stop there brings back many important memories for us. For these spots, there are peak experiences when conditions or moments are at their best. This sweaty, August morning was one of those for me. The foggy sunrise catalyzed the transformation of the scene from dewy, shadowed pasture to a hot, new day. As it did so I tried to capture the beauty of the morning dew on the webs and flowers that it encrusted in shiny droplets. Some of the spider webs had drops so large and heavy that they reflected the world over-and-over while dragging their grass pylons down around them with their collective weight. I feared a slight wind would cause them to drop off before I was done.
The sun rose higher and I turned my meandering around; I was headed south but turned to heading north. I passed along the edge of the grassland and sank below a small rise. As I came over the top hill my eye caught movement and then the body of a deer. The deer (Odocoileus virginianus) was a small fawn accompanied by its mother. Somehow I had caught the attention of the fawn only, and the mother continued to graze. His curiosity got them best of him, and he started to walk towards to me. I stood post-like with camera clicking. By the time the fawn was satisfied that something wasn’t-quite-right he stood 10 yards away. The mother had moved silently up the hill and stood about 20 yards away to contemplate me too. Finally she stomped a foot, snorted, and brought her offspring into the shelter of the woods.
My conclusion to you is this : every day is a new day, and you can only go enjoy what you go to see. If you have a favorite spot, I challenge you to go experience that location when it is at its best.
A young white-tailed deer steps forward to get a look at me. Unable to quite decided if I was dangerous or not.
The mother of the young buck scopes me out after being alerted by her offspring.
This young white-tailed deer buck ended up within 10 yards from me in his quest to figure out what I was.
The white-tailed fawn is scouting me out here from about 18 yards away.
Getting a bit closer! This white tailed deer comes forward to check on me.
Summer is waning here in Alaska. In Fairbanks, tundra breeding birds are being seen in fields and overhead. Particularly the Sandhill Cranes make themselves known with their raucous and odd cries. Kassie and I wanted to experience the tundra and birds before they leave for the year.
In the recent style of my blogs, I’ll open up with the video of the trip. It captures the beauty of constant scenery, the curiosity of a fox, the detail of small birds, and the disparity of millions of mosquitoes. If you have questions about the ID of anything in the video keep reading, they’ll be discussed further below!
To get to the tundra we head north on the Dalton Highway. The Dalton Highway was completed in 1974 to service the Alaska Pipeline. The road traverses the Brooks Range via Atigun Pass at about 5000 feet – a large climb from about 400 feet in the flats of Fairbanks! It is the only complete corridor across the interior and is also called the ‘haul road’ due to the high semi-truck traffic hauling goods and supplies. On television it was made famous by the reality show Ice Road Truckers – which I experienced in a sense first hand last winter
On the topic of mosquitoes, I might as well put to rest any thoughts you have of “I’ve seen mosquitoes because I have lived in Maine or Minnesota”. I thought I was prepared for the bugs based on my living in those areas. Nothing could have prepared me for the swarms of bugs. They are tolerable in a breeze, but nearly impossible to deal with when the breeze disappears. Any knee high bush in the tundra contained hundreds of the small buzzards which well up in the eddies of the wind created by your body. The lee of your body allows mosquitoes and black flies to fly into your eyes, nose, ears and mouth. They are vicious and aim for your hairline, temples and hands.
North of the Brooks Range we happened across this Red Fox. Incredibly, it gave little notice to the two gaping humans in the truck and went about his business of marking his territory and hunting. The Red Fox and Arctic Fox overlap in range north of the Brooks Range. If they encounter each other the larger and stronger Red Fox will chase off or kill the Arctic Fox. Fox are able to hunt even in the snow and many film clips show them diving for prey (e.g. BBC’s “Life”). It’s possible that Red Fox can align themselves to the magnetic field before the pounce, and that it enables them to successfully hunt prey. I’m just the messenger on this one – I have no idea how that works!
Red Fox Dalton Highway
Four species of loons occur just north of the Brooks Range. They are the Pacific, Red-Throated, Arctic, and Yellow-billed Loons. These loons raise their chicks in the many pot-holes of the tundra before migrating to Russia, or further south on the coast. We were fortunate enough to see two of these species! The Pacific Loon swam towards us in a small pond along the Dalton. It called in a croaking voice – it seems to have a much different voice than the Common Loons we are used to. The Red-throated loon was much more nervous as it was protecting a chick.
As we drove south of Atigun Pass watching the climaxing sunset, Kassie scared me by suddenly exclaiming, “STOP! MOON!”. I looked up, and in the same motion pulled my vehicle to the shoulder of the road and dropped my jaw. The large super-moon which is bigger, brighter and ‘better’ than the ordinary moon because it is closer to the earth, emerged over the mountains. It was framed by the last pieces of the sunset and perched in the valley of the peaks. I declared an emergency photographic opportunity and set up my camera, snapping a few stills before timelapsing its quickly moving path. What an incredible experience!
Of course, there are lots of things to see along the Dalton Highway. The pictures below help capture the surrounding beauty and wildlife. I’ve included information in their captions, thanks for reading!