Of Mosquitoes and Moose: Part 2: Mosquitoes

Alaska is famous for animals big and small, and perhaps the most noteworthy large and tiny are moose and mosquitoes. June is the time we see a lot of both here at the cabin. We kill swarms of the latter but enjoy watching the former. Here follow some anecdotes about them this year. This article is about mosquitoes; the prior one is about our neighboring moose.

 

 

Mosquitoes in Alaska are something of a marvel to me. How can something with no exoskeleton survive winters at 30 below zero? REI offers nothing that competes with the winter resilience of these survivors.

This spring, our lake didn't even thaw until May 30. (We kayaked through ice floes that day, feeling like Ernest Shackleton). Still, the newest generation of mosquitoes emerged, en masse, like something out of the Book of Revelations, only two weeks later, and were the worst I had experienced in the past five summers. They were fast and aggressive, biting me through my gardening gloves and pants and hair, flying freely into and within the cabin, and even penetrating the mosquito netting under which we sleep. My husband slept wearing a head net, a cap, long sleeved T shirt and pants – under the full bed mosquito net. I awoke with welts on my scalp under my hair.

Bed under mosquito netting;
lights powered by solar/wind

We had Florida guests for a weekend during this period and the husband, by his own admission, emerged from the guest cabin looking like the “Elephant Man” - he was so swollen from insect bites (although he admitted that he didn't appreciate why we had a mosquito net over the bed (“in Alaska?”)

Of Moose and Mosquitoes, Part 1: Moose

Alaska is famous for animals big and small, and perhaps the most noteworthy large and tiny are moose and mosquitoes. June is the time we see a lot of both here at the cabin. We kill swarms of the latter but enjoy watching the former. Here follow some anecdotes about them this year. This article is about moose; the following one is about mosquitoes.

Of ungulates, Southeast Alaska has deer (3 feet at shoulder), northern Alaska has caribou and reindeer (which are domesticated caribou) (4 feet at the shoulder) and our area has moose (6 feet at the shoulder). Elk have been introduced, too. Moose are HUGE. They are not only much taller, but also much bulkier than these other animals. Adults weigh between 1200 and 2000 pounds (compared to a light boned Wisconsin deer of 300 pounds). In fact, I understand that they are the largest species on the American continents, unless you count bison, which are shorter but even heavier.

June calf near blue kayak for size comparison 

Moose calves are born in May/early June, and they walk nearly immediately, to be less vulnerable to predators (bear and wolf), which kill one out of three during their first year. We see them once our “yard” greens up. The mother must be ravenous at that point after a long winter, particularly when she is pregnant. Can you imagine being a 1200 pound pregnant herbivore rummaging around through 8 foot snow looking for willow branches to keep up your weight and strength!!!!? 

Right outside the window, munching on fireweed

Our current “Mom” looks enormous – her legs are probably five feet long. Her coloring exactly matches the spruce bark, and it amazes me how something so large can virtually disappear mere yards from my position. The other day, I watched her scarf up fireweed, elderberry, and cranberry bushes as she ambled past our cabin on her way toward young birch trees along the lake. Even though I saw where she had gone and could see the movement of the birch branches being stripped of leaves, I could no longer see the moose herself. This experience reminded me of that movie, "Predator," in which you can't see the alien bad guy himself, just his movement. All ungulates can be quiet, but these huge beasts are far more stealthy than one would expect of such an unwieldy looking animal traversing ground covered with dead leaves and broken branches. One dawn, my husband was startled when he opens curtains to see a moose two feet beyond the glass. “Good morning, neighbor!” Another time we startled a buck that was lying down in the blueberry thicket. It is probably the calves that we hear first, as they trot along behind their mother, trying to keep up with her long strides. In June, I don't see the little ones eating much greenery. Rather, they reach up to nurse whenever Mom stops to eat a shrub or branch or to investigate a sound or smell with her large ears and nose.