Gaston's Crow's Nest: An Alaska Tale

By Marianne Schlegelmilch

From the moment he first woke up out at sea in the crow’s nest of fisherman Gaston Angelo Noel's purse seiner, the eagle Hali knew the adventures he had longed for since leaving his nest in Anchor Point, Alaska for life on the Homer Spit were about to begin.Sad that his hatchmate, Leuc, would not be able to join him, Hali finds himself on a journey more interesting than he ever imagined while learning a few life's lessons about courage, loyalty, and love along the way.Scattered throughout the book, are photo illustrations made from original photographs that inspired this story taken by the author and her husband.Gaston's Crow's Nest, a modern Alaska story of original fiction, is suitable for all age groups and the second book in the Alaska Tale series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publication Consultants
• Release date: Dec 15, 2009
• ISBN: 9781594331442

Marianne Schlegelmilch

Marianne Schlegelmilch is the author of five Alaska-themed mystery/adventure novels and a smattering of shorter books, including three children's books and two modern Alaska tales. She is an occasional contributor to several Alaska publications, including a past column profiling the great nurses of Alaska that she developed for a nursing publication. Lavender White Arctic Blue is her first foray into the genre of historical fiction and another new facet to the work of One of America's Most Gifted Writers.

Book preview

Love

Prologue

Buffeted by the deep, silty waters of the subarctic estuary known as Cook Inlet, miles of tree-laden sandy cliffs rise to form the shoreline of Alaska's Kenai Peninsula. In these waters of the farthest reaches of the North Pacific, wild salmon make their way home to spawn in the rivers and streams that lace this narrow mass of land.

Jutting south from the mainland of Alaska, the Kenai Peninsula is bordered on one side by Cook Inlet and the other by the Gulf of Alaska. Rising from the eastern side of this peninsula are the Kenai Mountains, home to the Harding and Sargent Ice Fields. Across the peninsula's flat expanses, wind the powerful Kenai, Kasilof, Russian and Anchor Rivers.

Rich with salmon, these rivers support a healthy population of birds, moose, bear and other wildlife, along with the humans who live alongside them.

Ever-present inland in summer and along the abundant coastline in winter, the American eagle, as it is also known, soars majestically in the thermals and currents of this pristine place. Their nests, some easily visible from the lone highway that traverses the peninsula, are a certain reminder that this is a nurturing land spilling with earth's bounty.

Gaston's Crow's Nest is a fictional story set in the early years of the last quarter of the twentieth century when Alaska was still only lightly inhabited, and pioneering lifestyles still prevalent. It is a story of an eagle that begins life's journey in the pristine setting of the Kenai Peninsula. Aboard an Alaska fishing boat, he finds his future entwined with humans and the sea.

It is a story of courage, life challenges and discovery. Mostly, it is a story of coming to terms with the lessons one learns and of finding out who you are.

Chapter One

Leaving the Nest

About May of each year, in the aged cottonwood and old growth trees spread throughout Alaska, fledgling eagles poke their downy heads above the woody edges of their nests. Just as in times before and since, the emergence of natures young heralds the arrival of spring.

The eagles’ nests, some spanning a width of four to eight feet and sometimes equally deep, are used every year by the same mated pair of eagles to lay their eggs and to later care for the two to three chicks that are typically hatched. By summers end, having become nearly as large as their parents, the young birds will be strong enough to fly away and live alone.

Easily recognizable in the first four years of their life by their mottled brown coloring, the young birds will congregate along salmon rich rivers in summer, and coastal bodies of water in winter as they soar with other eagles to hunt for food.

On the southern Kenai Peninsula, the eagles fsy as they always have, spiraling above the area's cliff, gliding along the Homer Spit, and sitting on rocky outcrops along the shores. Undeterred by either wind or cold, they seem to flourish in the strongest gales as they fly effortlessly, one with the wind, until diving suddenly to grasp a meal of fish or small animals with their powerful talons.

For as long as anyone can remember, seldom has there been a light pole or ships mast in local harbors that in the winter does not hold a sitting eagle scanning the surroundings. In places with fewer spiked objects to use for perches, the eagles have long been known to tuck themselves into rocky ledges along the cliffs, or atop tall trees or buildings where they can have a clear view of their world.

Hali tightened his talons against the crown of the spruce tree as a single shot rang through the crisp dawn air. His hatch-mate, Leuc, had already flown down to Homer for the winter, but as he had done each of these first three winters of his life, Hali would wait to join him until the snow depth made hunting near the Anchor River too difficult. Fluffing his feathers, he settled into the treetop, lessening the grip his feet had on the top branch and scanning the area for snowshoe hare.

Instead of his favorite meal, he saw an old grizzly boar break out of the brush and run toward the far side of the river. For some reason, the old bear had been late to hibernate for the past two winters, prompting the woman who lived in a cabin nearby to fire her rifle every morning to run it off before taking her dogs outside.

As many times as he had heard the sound, Hali still flinched when the sharp snap pierced the air. Even though he knew where to sit so he was not in the line of fire, the sound frightened him as much as it did the bear, causing him to stay well away from the woman's cabin and other two-legged creatures like her that he occasionally saw along the river.

Now that it was nearly October and the days palpably shorter, hunting was more difficult for eagles like Hali that rely on their keen eyesight to spot prey. As the light peaked around noon, Hali snagged a young hare with his talons and dropped it in a hollow near a downed tree. After eating his fill, he left the rest for the scraggly old boar, tearing it up into tender pieces with his beak for the toothless bruin to finish. The aged once fierce predator had difficulty overtaking game, and Hali instinctively knew that the bear probably wouldn't make it through winter this year. Let him have a bite to eat for now. Hali was young and his eyesight sharp. He would have no trouble finding more food.

The second week of October brought the first big snowfall of the season along the river. Hali hadn't seen the old bear at all over the past week and knew it had probably denned up for the last time. Aside from a human squatter