Page:Condor7(3).djvu/13

 68 VoL. VII In Alaska's Rain Belt BY WII, I;R ED H. OSGOOD LASKA and California naturally suggest contrast, particularly in respect to climate. Vet Alaska, in its various parts, like California, furnishes a great variety of weather. Each has its regions of comparative heat, cold, aridity, and humidity. California, however, goes to extremes in the matter of heat and aridity, while Alaska takes the palm for cold and humidity. From the collector's standpoint, aridity and humidity are more important con- siderations than heat and cold. One who has worked in both humid and arid regions can scarcely refrain from drawing comparisons. Both have their attrac- tive features and in point of interest each has many claims, but on the practical side the arid or semi-arid region commends itself preeminently. Collectors who work in central and southern California, for example, seem to have things their own way. They are in a paradise for camping and collecting. They sleep under the stars every mght and travel where they will. To be sure they must look for water occasionally, but usually they know where to find it. Birds are easily se- cured and nests easily found. After a successful morning, the happy collector sits him down anywhere that suits his fancy and prepares his specimens. These, once prepared, soon dry and may be packed away safely. In the humid region, the collector must travel largely by water; his entire outfit must be enclosed in waterproofing, his guns, ammunition, and photographic material requiring special care. He always pitches a tent at night and goes to sleep on his rubber blanket to the music of the rain pattering on the canvas. In the morning he crawls out in the wet and after much trouble starts a smouldering fire. His clothes are soaked much of the time; and his specimens are wet and be- draggled before he begins work on them, and when prepared, however nicely, soon become mushy, moldy caricatures requiring constant care for weeks after they are collected. This is not a recital of personal troubles, though I have experienced them all many times; it is merely the natural comparison that comes to mind when one undertakes to write for a California journal an account of collecting in the humid coast belt of Alaska. In the spring of x9o3, while waiting for the opening of navigation on the Yukon, I made a short trip to Prince of Wales Island. This is one of the south- ernmost of the group known on maps as the Alexander Archipelago and with the exception of Kodiak, is the largest of the many islands scattered so thickly along Alaska's coast. It is in the heart of the rain belt, and, as I had been there before, I knew what to expect. When the sun shines it is one of the most beautiful re- gions in the world, but so rarely does this occur that it becomes an event and the clear air and bright light seem like food and drink. The great humidity is accom- panied by a comparative evenness of temperature throughout the year. Conse- quently vegetation is luxuriant. The magnificent forests are chiefly of coniferous trees, often festooned with mosses and lichens and rising from tangles of shrubs. The rank growths can scarcely be duplicated outside the tropics and are so difficult to penetrate that even the Indians seldom attempt to go far from the coast. My most pleasant ornithological experiences on Prince of Wales Island were crowded into two days late in May, when I went by canoe to the head of Twelve Mile Arm, a continuation of Kasaan Bay, which is the most important indenta- tion on the east coast of the island. Leaving the small mining settlement of Hollis