The story of ornithalos

Originally published in South Anchorage Hillside Living and North DeArmoun Living magazines. Written by Nick and Amelia Wiandt.

Chapter 1: The War of Metlakatla

The sun beat down on the coast of an unnamed island, casting warmth over the sparkling water. High in his perch, he saw the birds enjoy salmon by the water’s edge. He smelled an easterly wind blowing through the Tongass. Looking out over it all, it was so much more clear now just how far from home Ornithalos was. He could still imagine the shores of the Cook Inlet in his mind's eye. If he paused, for just a minute, he could almost hear the joyful calls across Potter’s Marsh.

He let out a long slow sigh, for it was not the gorgeous land he'd left behind that made him so desperate to get home. No, that wasn’t it at all, but rather it was his mate Selene and their son, Xenarchus. 

His son would be a fledgling now, just learning to fly. Ornithalos felt a deep sense of loss, having missed the days that his son was a hatchling. He'd missed those precious moments for the greater good of all feather-kind. So, when the call was made, he honored his duty and went to fight the war in Metlakatla. His duty done, now he would return, never to miss a single memory going forward.

Ornithalos rose to his feet as he heard wings flap, tucking his bandaged wing behind him. The spark of pain in his shoulder was a reminder of his last battle. Even victories come at a cost. Panournis landed to his right, gripping the branch tightly as he did. Although he was one of the larger ravens, he was only a fraction of Ornithalos’ size.

"Captain," He started, tone urgent. "The Feathers are ready, we await your orders." The black bird looked quite clean, the respite had obviously served him well.

Ornithalos nodded, tearing his eyes off the ocean. He couldn't dally. Home awaited.

“What challenges will await us, Panournis? The journey is long, and the Feathers have been through much already.”

“I do not know Captain, but you have gotten us this far. You will get us home.”

 Ornithalos’ eyes smiled, he had come to appreciate and rely on his Lieutenant’s support. Taking a deep breath, the Bald Eagle rose to his full height and let out his peal call. The Feathers perked up in attention, watching as their Captain left his perch heading north. One by one, they took flight and followed.

would you be as brave as a raven?

Would you be as brave as a raven and chase a person much larger than you away from your home? Ravens, who weigh 2.5 lbs, have a wingspan of 45-46 inches, and an average length of 25 inches, regularly divebomb and harass Bald Eagles, who weigh 8 - 14 lbs, have a wingspan up to 80”, and an average length of 28 - 38 inches, to chase them away from their nests.

Left: Bird TLC’s Ambassador Bald Eagle, Culuk. Right: Common Raven in Southcentral Alaska. Photo credit: Lisa Hupp, Alaska Region U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Chapter 2: Choices and Consequences

Just at the edge of the horizon, he could almost see her, alighting upon their perch high above the marsh, overlooking the morning waters of the inlet. She was bringing fresh meat to their son and my, how he had grown! Named for Selene’s great-grandfather, renowned for his love of justice, Xenarchus was sure to become the pride of all feather-kind. 

Ornithalos lingered long in thought as he pushed through the northerly wind; however, his left shoulder and pinion ached as he did for the current was stiff, cold, and strong, hampering their progress significantly, facts that meant little to Ornithalos whose mind was firmly fixed on rejoining his mate.

“Lord Captain!” Panournis squawked nearly out of breath, for he and the other Feathers were falling behind. “Storm ahead, sir!”

Snapping to, Ornithalos refocused his gaze. As the Lady Selene and visions of Potter’s Marsh faded from view, he finally noticed the foreboding darkness on the horizon ahead. A foul storm for sure and the source of the northerly that had slowed their passage thus far. 

He pulled his wings back, slowing for the birds in his wake and began moving in wide circles far above the sparkling ocean water below. As they transitioned to the glide maneuver with him, they each, one and all, felt the relief in their wings and listened closely for what the massive bald eagle was about to say.

“I know you all crave the sweet waters of home as I do, but it would seem fate has other plans for us at the moment. We must seek refuge from that foul storm before it is upon us. We shall rest and feed, lest we go the way of Seward.” As brave as the Feathers were, they knew well the folly of flying through foul storms, even as hatchlings they had heard the story of the seagull named Seward, who tried to conquer a foul storm and was never to seen again.

A Great Blue Heron gestured his beak to the far east. “Look, there!”

“Good eye, Aetherios!” 

Off on the horizon was a meager island, just large enough to house a small forest. It wasn’t much, but it was more than they thought they’d get out here on the open sea.

“Everyone ready up, we’re landing,” Ornithalos announced, and the army of birds leaned eastward, beginning their descent.

The mighty raven swooped in close to Ornithalos. “Lord Captain, who knows what inhabits that island. We are already injured enough after Metlakatla and are hardly ready for another battle.”

“This is true Panournis, but the Way of Seward is not an option. We must steel ourselves and pray for the best. Rest and food will see us home.”

With the storm still distant on the horizon, the island greeted them in silence, cloaked in a gentle breeze that whispered through the old cedars and spruce. From above, the land appeared humble, yet upon descent, it revealed itself to be bountiful, a forgotten isle untouched by feather or claw. The Feathers, weary and wind-torn, took to its offerings with haste. The American Goshawks swept low among the trees, seizing darting rodents with swift precision. Ornithalos, dignified even in rest, joined the Herons at the rocky shore, where they drew forth crabs from tidal pools. The Thrushes gorged on swarms of insects dancing in the underbrush, while the Corvids, ever clever, found joy in the salmonberry bushes that crowned the northern slope.

But such a feast, however grateful, could not remain hidden. As the Goshawks coursed between the branches, their wings stirring the quiet woods, unseen eyes awoke. The island, though seemingly abandoned, began to watch them back.

are there great blue herons in alaska?

Yes, there are! Great Blue Herons can be found in Southeast Alaska and coastal areas, such as Seward and Valdez. Find out more about this stately bird here.

Chapter 3

Siblings Lars and Dagmar were seldom seen apart, and if they were, the other was never far behind. They spent their days bickering and playing, bickering and eating, bickering and sleeping, and bickering and bickering. This did little to trouble their relatives, who were themselves caught in perpetual quarrels, for such is the way of the Norway rat.

On this particular day, Lars and Dagmar squabbled over a small, wriggling insect. “What do you know Dagmar? You’re full of disease and stink!” Lars took a moment to stick out his tongue at his sister before munching. Dagmar rolled her eyes and, with a flick of her tail, she slapped her brother and scurried under a bush to nibble on ripe salmonberry. “Shut up Lars, and stop being so ugly… if you can.”

Suddenly, a sharp whoosh of air cut past the rodents. Dagmar froze. In the blink of an eye, Lars was gone, carried aloft by the talons of a swift American Goshawk. Its 2-foot wingspan swiftly narrowed as it spun through the branches of a nearby spruce. From the safety of her bush, Dagmar’s eyes widened as she surveyed her surroundings. Hundreds of birds were descending upon the island; a cacophony of bird chatter filled the air as they enjoyed the island as if it were their own.

Just then, Corvids alighted upon the bushes near her, so Dagmar crept back to the entrance of her burrow. She had to warn those still slumbering below.

Deep within the labyrinthine chambers of the rat burrow, King Magnus stirred from the commotion echoing through the tunnels. His whiskers twitched as Dagmar burst into his chamber, breathless. “Hundreds of birds on the island!” she squeaked.

“Hundreds? Two hundred, three hundred?” Magnus chuckled, his hearty, booming laugh filling the chamber.

“That’s no match for our brood!” The fat rat declared, eager to pluck some feathers. Turning to the chief of his guard, he commanded, “Hans! Sound the alarm. The sun will set soon, and these sky dwellers must know our fury.”

Far above the island, the sky blazed with the rich colors of sunset, the western horizon awash in gold and crimson. To the north, darkness gathered, heralding the approach of the storm. The Feathers, bellies full from their day’s foraging, huddled in small groups as night fell.

The storm was stronger than they had expected, as if the mighty gods of the sky had sent it.

Amid the storm’s growing roar, Noctylion, a brown-and-white Boreal Owl, tilted his head and listened intently. From a distant tree came the unmistakable sound of screeches and scuffles. He recognized signs of commotion. He raised his voice in warning to Ornithalos, who was already staring intently through the dark at the base of their tree.

From the shadows of the branches came a tide of Norway rats, their claws clutching at bark and leaves, surging toward the Feathers in a rush of fury. Chaos erupted as the birds tried to fend off the relentless swarm. Wings flapped, talons struck, rain came sideways and shouts were drowned in the noise of the moonless night.

Despite the deluge and the roar of the storm, Ornithalos gave the command, “Retreat! To the sky!”

With hearts pounding and feathers soaked, the Feathers that could hear him obeyed, taking to the storm-tossed heavens. Lightning illuminated their path as they rose above the island, opting for the perils of Seward’s Way over legions of bloodthirsty rats.

respect the goshawk!

While American Goshawks may be secretive, they are not shy. Goshawks are fiercely protective of their nests. According to Hawkwatch International, “Biologists conducting nest research are wary, wear protective gear, or face bloody consequences.” In Alaska, Goshawks prey on snowshoe hares, grouse, ptarmigan, ducks, squirrels, voles, shrews, and some of the larger songbirds and shorebirds.