| |
Nesting Grounds
As I stumbled over the rocks and tussocks, avoiding the swarm of terns above, a bird exploded in a flurry of feathers at my feet and protested loudly as it flew away. I'd come within a couple feet of a nest... I think that of a Ptarmigan. The nest seemed so exposed - to the elements, predators, and stumbling human feet. But, the ground was the only available choice, and as I looked around I realized there were thousands of such nests in the surrounding land. The safety was in simply in the nature of the landscape - it was so remote and inhospitable for so much of the year. Other than the occasional Arctic Fox, there was nothing to disturb the birds. It brought home the reality of where I standing - the Arctic Circle was just off shore, the sun traveled in a tilted circle above, and there wasn't a tree for who knew how far. The spell of fair weather we were experiencing was likely a rare treat.
|
|
