Inside a Remote Research Camp in Arctic National Wildlife Refuge
Our small, silver wings brush over the tundra, cracked blue ice and honeycombed wetlands shining underneath as we head North across the Arctic coastal plain towards the edge of the sea. Dropping lower, the bush plane banks over a channel of the river, and a bright cluster of tents suddenly comes into view. The next instant, we are bumping along the packed earth and grasses on fat tires. The two women towing sleds who come to greet us are covered in layers of jackets, waders, hats, and face scarves, only their eyes showing. The wind finds its way through my three jackets in a hurry, blowing frigid off the nearby Beaufort Sea ice.
Welcome to Bird Camp.
Each June, a crew of graduate students, interns, and wildlife biologists arrive via bush plane to a frozen landscape at the far northwest corner of Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. They create a temporary home of expedition tents, a tent laboratory, and a cook/communal tent, all enclosed in electric fencing. Their brief summer field season is packed. Searching for well-hidden nests, they study the health and movements of waterfowl and shorebirds that migrate each summer to breed and rear chicks. An avian research station since 1979, the Canning River Bird Camp is a remote and challenging environment— and a science hotspot for the extreme bird nerd.
“We have shorebirds that are displaying that we never get to see anywhere else, there’s bears, there’s caribou, it’s just an amazing landscape, and something you get to be in. I think for me that’s the biggest part of it, it’s not something you get to see, it’s something you get to be part of. -Shiloh Schulte, Manomet Research Biologist
“It’s an extremely important area for birds that utilize all of the western hemisphere flyways. In a way, all roads lead to the Arctic coastal plain,” said Chris Latty, bird biologist with the Refuge. “And the Canning River Delta has the highest density of wetlands and habitat for these nesting birds within Arctic Refuge.” [READ more here]
“The birds that we see breeding here come from all across the world. We have birds coming up from South America, and many folks in the lower 48 states have birds that winter in their vicinity that come up to Arctic Refuge to breed.”
What does it take to be a biologist in this unique time and place? A sense of adventure, resilience to harsh and unpredictable weather, creativity for remote living away from creature comforts, and of course… a love of birds.
Elyssa Watford, graduate student at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, is
literally living her dream. She splits her field season between the Canning and her graduate work with common eiders on the Barrier Islands just to the northeast.
“My dream was always to work with birds in Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Every chance that I get to spend at the Canning River is just so special, and I like living in the place that I work, versus commuting back and forth every day from a town. You really get to immerse yourself in field life and understand the birds a lot better, just being out here and hearing them all the time and constantly seeing what they’re doing. So it’s a really unique opportunity and I cherish every moment I get.”
Tundra Technology and Stealth
As the crew gears up to go out for a day of research, laughter and groans drift out from the tents. Getting ready is never simple, and their very survival depends on the proper preparation. Several layers of clothing protect against the needles of wind and the deeply cold coastal fog. Waterproof waders allow for river crossings and wetland nest searches. Hat, gloves, and a face scarf insulate exposed skin against the elements during long hours of field research.
Hanging from packs, pockets, and belts, a variety of essential safety gear: a radio for communication, a GPS for data and navigation, binoculars for bird sightings (and bear sightings), bear spray and a shotgun for protection against grizzly and polar bears. Large packs carry everything they need to be self sufficient and collect data for the day, including nets to capture birds. When fully dressed, they are well-swaddled ninjas against the gnarly outdoors.
Although the camp began as a shorebird research station, it has since developed a more integrated approach. Any bird that decides to nest in the study area becomes part of the research, and the biologists also record mammal sightings, insects, and habitat information. They spend the days walking the tundra to find new nests, monitor nests already discovered, and capturing birds to measure their health and fit them with bands and tracking devices.
Even on the remote tundra, technology plays an important role: from tiny location transmitters and temperature-sensing nest probes to traditional nets triggered by a handheld piece of cord. Dozens of wildlife cameras deployed at nests provide valuable clues about parenting behavior and guilty predators, while also reducing human presence and monitoring duties. Evenings are often spent in the cramped laboratory tent, processing blood samples (taken to identify overall health and possible disease) and entering data on laptops charged by solar panels.
After a cold, windy, foggy day of work, there’s also a place for imaginary technology. When asked about their “camp superpowers,” the answers inevitably dream up ways to make life just a little easier out here. “I’d want to be able to snap my fingers and be instantly dressed for the day — waders, boots and all.” “To have the power to instantly heat things: water, the tents, myself.” “To be able to fly, and nest search from the air…” “To never have to pee.” “For the birds to just come and tell me where they are at and where they are going.” And, of course, the fantasy of a camp leader responsible for logistics in the unpredictable Arctic: “To control the weather.”
Contributed by Lisa Hupp, Outreach Specialist
In Alaska we are shared stewards of world renowned natural resources and our nation’s last true wild places. Our hope is that each generation has the opportunity to live with, live from, discover and enjoy the wildness of this awe-inspiring land and the people who love and depend on it.