The bird, named after the famed Arctic explorer James Clark Ross, has a signature black – necklaced stripe around its’ neck and would randomly appear out of the mist on the Churchill River along the flats to the east of the grain port. This was a nesting ground confirmed by researchers since around 1980. In fact I cannot remember ever seeing the prized bird anywhere else in Churchill. Northern Siberia still exists as the gull’s predominant breeding grounds with seasonal homesteading along the Arctic Ocean’s ice pack.
Ross’s gull along the gravelly shore. Brian Small photo.
Bonnie Chartier is world renowned for being an expert on the birds of the Churchill region and has a published guidebook (out of print at present) called A Birders Guide to Churchill. We would bring the entire group down to the Churchill River banks by the port and have all looking through binoculars, scanning the water and gravelly flats for smaller gulls with that distinct black stripe around the neck. Another distinguishing mark we always looked for was a rosy – washed colored underbelly.
Ross’s gull in flight. Bruce Mactavish photo.
A funny occurrence at the outset of a trip happened just along the stretch of road near the port and flats. Our group of 10 or so was searching the shallows and distant Churchill River for the gull when a independent couple just next to us had a set up a tripod with a spotting scope. They had in their possession a copy of Bonnie’s book and were in dire need of finding this prized bird for their “lifelist”. They began asking Bonnie if she knew anything about the bird and it’s whereabouts in Churchill when she subtly revealed whom she was and that the book they had was written by her. Needless to say we all had a good laugh and although no Ross’ gulls were spotted that day, the couple left with a signed copy and we all departed with a funny memory and story.
This photo of sandhill cranes and a Canada geese by Rhonda Reid is another sign that Churchill’s Arctic summer is just around the corner. Birds are arriving in Churchill and wildflowers will start flowering over the next few months. beluga whales will start arriving in the Hudson Bay and Churchill River and maybe even a few bears. Enjoy the spring and this cool photo!
Sandhill cranes and Canada geese. Rhonda Reid photo.
I still remember the most amazing and intriguing sounds of Churchill’s Arctic summer were the sounds captured from the hydrophone we would drop into the Churchill River when out on the water with the beluga whales. Those clicks, shrieks and shrills coming from the depths of the chilly water mesmerized travelers and myself often for hours. Belugas are in fact nicknamed the “canaries of the sea” because of the incredible cacophony of sounds they produce.
Belugas at the back of the zodiac. Stephanie Fernandez photo.
These sounds are the mammal’s main form of communication and a key to their survival. At least half of the year belugas are navigating in the dark…quite literally. Under the sea ice in dark waters far north, these whales rely on sound from echolocation off the ice as well as communicating with each other. Sound without sight is their world a good part of their lives.
Biologists have begun to decipher the complex system of communication placing behavioral actions to the different and quite distinct clinks and squeals. hydrophones with recording ability are helping extensive research away from the beluga’s natural habitat in the Arctic.
However communication isn’t the only reason for belugas emitting sound through their nasal sacs near their blowhole. They have no vocal chords.These whales also use rapid strings of clicks to echolocate surfaces and food in their environment. The clicks bounce back to them and absorbed in their bulbous melons of their foreheads to form shapes and identify the prey. They also can wiggle the melon somewhat in order to specifically aim these sounds in different directions. Their unique ability to interpret returning sound wave lengths works just like our eyes work for humans.
Beluga whales echolocate using the melon on their foreheads. Steve Selden photo.
Evidence that beluga communication develops when calves are born stems from the evidence that a community of whales acting as sisters, aunts, cousins and grandmothers care for the calves as “allmothers”. They even produce milk when babies from other mothers are born regardless if they have a nursing calf or not. This early exposure to a language sets the base for more to come as the calves develop and interact with the pod.
Controlling the human – made noise in waters inhabited by belugas is of paramount importance to preserve their language and ability to communicate.
I recently ventured back to Churchill, Manitoba for a week to help with set-up and installation of Natural Habitat’s new Aurora Pod. The project was finally nearing the end of a long process of design, production and delays and now came the time to test it all out. The time to see if all the work was worth the effort.
Natural Habitat’s Aurora Pod. Brad Josephs photo.
Upon arriving in Churchill and driving out to the proposed pod-site, just above the rock quarry across from the airport along the Hudson Bay coast, I knew immediately this was the place for the pod. Not a doubt.
The stillness in the frigid air froze me in my tracks as I stood just above the quarry and looked over the solid ice – packed Hudson Bay. The endless slab of ice extended north as far as I could see. To the east the Canadian shield rolled down to the edge of the rocky coast peaking through the snow where wind had whipped it clean. Stunted spruce with one – sided branches dotted the surface across the tundra and rock covered surface.
Northern lights above the boreal forest behind the Aurora Pod in Churchill. Justin Gibson photo.
Behind the pod and extending quite a distance to the west along the upland coast was a sturdy stretch of boreal forest holding fast like a battalion of soldiers guarding the bay. On my last day in Churchill I borrowed a friend’s snowshoes and made my way through the powder encrusted spruce pillars and found a wonder world of snowy silence. I worked my way through the heavy snow and came across fairly fresh wolf tracks winding their way back towards the quarry and westward along the coast. As I followed them with trepidation, I had the thrill of hoping to see the maker of these tracks and fear of doing so all at once. Eventually I turned back and left them as they disappeared over the snow covered rocky edge.
I stood one more time taking in the entire scene of boreal forest, rocky Precambrian shield and vast ice covered Hudson Bay all under a clear blue sky. As my nose hairs froze for a last time, I soaked it all in with pure pleasure. The sensation was incredible…one in all the years of working in Churchill I seemed to take for granted after some time.
Snow encrusted trees near the Aurora Pod. Brad Josephs photo.
A couple of days earlier I had joined photographer and former operator/ owner of Sea North whale watching tours Mike Macri on a ski – do trip across the frozen Churchill River to make a last visit to his rustic cabin. Hidden in the woods, just up river and about halfway between Churchill River and Button Bay, the journey was beautiful. Mike’s selling his last couple of pieces of property and heading east to Ontario with his wife to fish and retire to some extent. It was a great way to say goodbye to one of the last pieces of the original Churchill puzzle. As we sat in the cabin warming our toes by the wood stove, eating cookies warmed by the same fire and drinking hot tea, few words were spoken. Sometimes silence says it all. Old friends saying goodbye…though hopefully not forever.
After I returned home I realized that I had taken a trip back, not only physically but consciously, to a place where I have spent a substantial part of my life. Sitting around the “local” table in Gypsy’s restaurant listening to the stories and dialogues between people I remember from long ago reminded me why I fell in love with this place to begin with. Churchillian’s speak their mind ( sometimes with some pretty flowery language) and are very real. Those qualities separate places from the vast majority of towns in the world today.
In the Arctic or sub-Arctic there are some birds that become aggressive when threatened near their nesting grounds. The majority of these species are seasonal residents of the bountiful feeding areas around the coastal lowlands. Churchill’s bountiful feeding grounds attract over 200 bird species during the spring and Summer. The Arctic tern is the king of the Arctic air…and for that matter all the air between the migration path pole to pole.
Arctic tern hovering above the nesting grounds. Rhonda Reid photo.
Arctic terns are notorious for pursuing capelin or other small fish stirred up by pods of beluga whales in the Churchill River or Hudson Bay. Their darting, aggressive behavior evokes the urgency of their mission to gain sustenance in the short summer feeding window. After a trip from nearly pole to pole of 35,000 km these birds really don’t have a pause phase. With lifetime accumulation of close to three million kilometers of flight, the life of an arctic tern is surely one of the highest paced of all living organisms. The majority of their lives is spent in the air.
Arctic terns also vehemently protect their nesting grounds which are usually along beaches in the strewn rocks and sand and nestled in the sea grass or tundra. I have personally witnessed near-attacks as well as direct hits on myself and Natural Habitat travelers who wandered too close to the nests. One such strike was to the forehead of a guest posing for a photograph taking the hit from a arrow-like beak right in the forehead. A small stream of blood symbolized the intent of these strong-willed birds. Although at the time the wound caused jaws to drop, the end result was constant laughs throughout the trip within the group. No stitches required!
Arctic tern with capelin in beak. Warwick Sloss photo.
