London, Paris, Fairbanks
It’s coming up to six months that I’ve left Europe and moved to Fairbanks, Alaska. The times have been frantic, though it feels as if I’ve lived here for much longer already. I have a car, a job, a commute, two bikes, neighbours and colleagues. Melinda and I have taken up fishing and gardening. We share the place with her team of Siberian Huskies, live around moose and foxes and innumerable birds, and are being visited by a very social escaped pet rabbit who lives somewhere under the guest cabin. There has been no shortage of new-to-me experiences, most of which are working out very well, and we’ll see that the others will fall into place, too.
Losing, or rather giving up - again - a social environment for a quite radically different one, leaving 15 years of life in European capitals behind, and returning to science and research is raising questions about what communities and conversations I want to be part of. I contemplated putting the new experiences into short but minimally developed posts, longer than Facebook updates. This hasn’t happened, but my notes are still fresh.
So to put some pressure on myself, here, in no particular order, is a list of topics in a yet-to-be-written series of “Europe to Alaska” posts:
- Weather and seasons
- Charismatic megafauna
- Radio
- Taxes
- US healthcare: first contact
- The road system
- Cars and driving
- Cycling
- Meet the Arctic
- Food and food shopping
- Consumption and consumerism
Now I really dislike navel-gazing blog posts about the future of one’s blogging about one’s blog. So to change topics, here’s something for those who like birds. Those who are indifferent have to wait for the next instalment.
I didn’t know I liked birds. They were part of the environment, nearly always charming and welcome, but no more than that. If you live in Western Europe, migratory birds will do their migratory thing between Europe/Central Asia and Africa. This means that even in relatively similar climates, American birds will be different species from their European counterparts. Similarities are superficial, and only few of the birds I’m used to having around show up over here. No Amsel (or rather, different kinds of Blackbird). No Eichelhäher (they call it “Eurasian Jay”, but really no one here has even heard of it). No Rotkehlchen.
So I acquired a pair of binoculars and started keeping track. Here’s my incomplete bird list, Alaska version. And an opportunity to mention the wonderful resource the Cornell Lab of Ornithology has created.
At home (in Two Rivers):
- American Robin (not at all like the European Robin (DE: Rotkehlchen) — the American Robin is a thrush (DE: Drossel), a relative of the Blackbird (DE: Amsel), and behaves like one)
- Black-capped Chickadee
- Boreal Chickadee
- Dark-eyed Junco (“Oregon” subspecies)
- Gray Jay
- Orange-crowned Warbler
- Raven
- Sandhill Crane
- Spruce Grouse (summer and winter)
- Varied Thrush
- some other species of Sparrows, not sure which
Not far from home:
- Bald Eagle
- possibly a Golden Eagle, but likely a juvenile Bald Eagle
- a smaller bird of prey, maybe an American Kestrel
- Tree Swallow
- a wading bird, possibly the Lesser Yellowlegs
- Ducks, in particular: Common Goldeneye (or maybe Barrow’s Goldeneye), possibly a Bufflehead, Black or White-winged Scoter, Green-winged Teal, and of course Mallard
- Trumpeter Swan
- Tons of gulls, Mew and others
- some pigeons
Up in the Arctic (North Slope of Alaska):
- Snow Bunting
- Greater White-fronted Goose (I think)
- some sort of Jaeger, possibly a Long-tailed Jaeger
- more Gulls, some of them Glaucous
- a type of teeny-tiny wading bird, possibly a Least Sandpiper or a Semipalmated Sandpiper
- a lot more small birds and waterfowl, but not enough time to look closely
And around the Interior, previously during the cold seasons:
- American Three-toed Woodpecker (dead, on our porch)
- Northern Hawk Owl (in Denali National Park)
- Pine Grosbeak
