Signs of Life in Alaska, Even in December

December is the month when Homer, Alaska inches toward a dramatic winter solstice, where the town gets less than six hours of daylight. But Alaskans who stay through the near-mythical darkness of the month learn that winter isn’t a dead season or an ending, but rather a seasonal caesura in nature’s poetry. A time to notice the moose tracks. The dark blur of a boat on the water. The warm kitchen glow behind fogged windows. Short days, but extended golden hours with each sunrise and sunset. Signs of life everywhere, if you’re willing to look.

I remember being nervous before my first winter in Alaska, many years ago. Drizzle and snow were inevitable, and so was having to bundle up as if going to battle — and deconstruct oneself into a pile of soggy, muddy, attire — with every coming and going from my house. I imagined it was going to feel impossible. 

The truth is that I’ve grown to adore the rituals of this time of year and have become attuned to signs of life all around me, even in the endless weeks of gray and cold. Many creatures have migrated to warmer climes or gone into hibernation, but the moose stick around, more visible now than ever. Their dark coats are a stark contrast against a white expanse, and they’re often found ambling along plowed roads where the walk is a bit easier than through a thick layer of snow. Along the shorelines, even on the most frigid days, you’ll find bald eagles and all manner of waterfowl. And if you’re really tuned in, you might even spot the red flash of pine grosbeak in your backyard.

There are salmon around, too. While summer runs feel like a lifetime ago, there’s a winter king salmon season in Kachemak Bay. The fishery typically opens around the new year, when kings are feeding at sea rather than running back to their natal streams to spawn. If you’re bold enough to take a stroll on the waterfront, you can see boats heading out at dawn, bundled figures working the decks with the sort of grit that can only develop in a place where winter is an entire personality. After all, the salmon don’t pause for winter, so why should we? 

Live Wild,

Monica

Pictured above: A bird’s-eye photograph from the National Park Service of a moose plodding through a snowy field in Lake Clark National Park & Preserve, situated on the other side of Cook Inlet from Homer, Alaska.