A few birds from the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta.
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Pacific Loon:Pacific Loon Tunucellek Go to your bird books and take a good look at this magnificent bird. Check the shape of the neck and you’ll understand why the bird’s Yupik name is Tunucellek, which loosely translates as, “the one that has the (occipital) bump in the back of its head.” This is the name I learned in Hooper Bay. In Scammon Bay and the Yukon, the variation Tunutellek is used. In other parts of the Delta, Yaqulekpak, meaning “big thing with wings,” is heard. The English name loon has an equally interesting root. It is thought to have derived from an old Scandinavian term, lom, meaning a lame or bumbling person, in reference to the loon’s clumsiness on land. Its legs are located so far back on its body that it virtually has to drag itself across the land. When the loon is in the water, however, it is all grace. Under the water, it is a miracle of nature, flying as well there as it does in the air. Among diving birds it is one of the best divers, and has been known to dive as deep as 240 feet below the surface. It can remain underwater for several minutes, and is able to swim for many hundreds of yards without surfacing for air. For that reason one of the other common names of the loon is diver, in this case, Pacific diver. According to Dan Akerelrea, an elder I once knew in Scammon Bay, when the loon dives for fish offshore in the Bering Sea it swims parallel to the land, and if hunters in kayaks were caught out at sea in dense fog they used to find their way back to land by watching the direction the loons swam while they hunted. Like other loons, Tunucellek can’t fly from land, and when it flies from water it needs a long running start before it becomes airborne. But once aloft, it is a swift, powerful flier with speeds clocked at more than 60 mph. In flight, it thrusts its neck forward and down, making it look like it’s flying upside down. The Pacific loon is one of the most beautiful of loons, having a black and white striped chin strap and necklace, deep purple throat patch, ruby red eyes (adapted for both above and below water vision), and a striking gray mane. Part of its beauty is in its wonderful repertoire of calls, which includes a guttural kwuk-kwuk-kwuk-kwuk, a rapid qua-qua-qua like the quack of a duck, growls and croaks, plaintive wails, as well as falsetto shrieks, squeals and yelps. I remember listening to these calls for most of the night as I camped in the fall of the year at Castle Rocks near Scammon Bay back in the early and mid-eighties. While listening to this wild, almost maniacal, “laughter” of the loons, I could easily relate to the expressions, “crazy as a loon,” and “loony.” With all these fascinating characteristics, it’s no wonder that in Yupik oral tradition the loon is considered a magical creature, part of the spirit world. It is often the familiar spirit (yua) of shamans who make it their business not only to heal people, but to communicate with the spirit world. There is a story told about a grandmother and her young grandson who walked everyday along the beach looking for food. One day the grandson saw a loon diving for food, and it looked so easy for the loon he told his grandmother, “I wish I could be a loon because they get food anytime they need it.” A shaman heard this through the loon’s yua and, deciding to help the boy and his grandmother, he turned the grandson into a loon. Also, in Ann Fienup Riordan’s book, Rule and Ritual in Yupik Oral Tradition, Thomas Chikigak tells a story about the creation when Raven the creator worked with loon in painting all of the birds he had made. But they had a falling out over what colors they should paint them, and in Raven’s anger he threw ash at the back (tunu) of loon’s head, thus painting it ash gray. Another wonderful thing about this loon is its courting behavior. If you are very lucky, you will see the mated pair facing off and dipping their bills at each other, then with a lot of commotion, splashing the water and diving under its surface. If you happen to be diving yourself, you might see the pair rushing at each other underwater. Reminds me of modern dance. I’ll bet that sometime over the thousands of years of Yupik song and dance there was at least one song dedicated to Tunucellek courting behavior. While all of this courting is taking place, both the male and female are building their nest, which they usually locate on aquatic vegetation at the edge of a shallow freshwater lake. It is composed of a wet mass of roots, stems and accompanying mud torn from the ground. The nest varies from only a scrape or depression to a mound of earth and plants. It is not completed until after the first egg is laid. Only two eggs are laid, and they vary in color from greenish olive to dark brown with some black spots or blotches. Both male and female share incubation duty, which lasts for almost a month. The chicks hatch asynchronously, or at intervals of a day or two, and shortly after the second chick has hatched they both slip over the edge of the nest into the water and follow their parents who at first feed and protect them, then teach them to feed and fend for themselves. When they are very young the chicks stay close to their parents, sometimes even climbing atop their mother’s back for protection from predators such as northern pike. I remember seeing this near Emmonak while teaching there in the late 1980’s. It was one of the most heart-warming vignettes of bird behavior I guess I’ve ever seen. By the end of two more long months the young have finally fledged, which for this lom, or stumblebum of a bird, is no mean feat, since it takes such a great distance for it to take off on water, and only on water. After they learn to fly, at the end of summer the young loons follow their parents to salt water. Here they continue feeding on small fish, crustaceans, mollusks, and even a few insects. In the fall, when the tundra turns a screaming red and yellow, these loons gather in small screaming flocks and begin their migration south to the northwestern shores of Mexico’s Pacific Ocean. When I find them down there, the color of their plumage has changed to a dark gray, and it is hard to distinguish them from other species of loons. The earliest fossils of these and other loons go back to the Paleocene, about 65 million years ago. Their scientific name is Gavia pacifica, which simply means Pacific sea smew, a form of Old World diving duck. Until recently Pacific and Arctic loons were regarded as one species. After studies of breeding biology in Russia, however, the single species was split into two. Now, bird listers who have the wherewithal and determination can add yet another bird to their life list. Good luck.  |
