ALCOHOL WAS A FACTOR: Weekly Newspapering in Rural Alaska

Weird Alaska

There were four of us in the tiny newsroom on that late afternoon.
It was just after 3 p.m. and the sun was already gone, swallowed up by the high mountains and cold valleys in an untouched wilderness whose pure wildness seems a match for the sun.

At the Chilkat Valley News, that left two reporters, a layout person and his vacation (Hawaii)-replacement-in-training to work by the cozy glow of the electric lights.

Then the power went out, suddenly leaving all of us in the darkness. There were no backups on the computers, no generators for the lights. We all looked out the widows in collective silence, now able to see the last gasp of weak winter light on a December day in Haines, Alaska.

For all we knew, the entire town could be in total darkness.

What had happened?

Someone suggested the eagles.

In Alaska, man and nature often collide in the strangest ways. Not long ago, in the space of one winter week, there were two power outages caused by two different wayward birds of prey: First a big black laughing crow smacked into a power line, plunging Haines into gloom.

“He got into the wrong place,” an observant town official said.

Days later, a bald eagle hit another line, electrocuting itself and cutting power to 140 homes. The big bird was later found dead, still clutching a fish in its talons as it lay on the side of the highway a few miles outside town.

Wildlife biologists suspected that the animal with perhaps the best eyesight on the planet, that can see the results of a quarter flip from the other side of a football field, was probably distracted by holding the fish.

Other, more domesticated birds have found themselves in trouble here in Haines.

A year or so back, the local police blotter for several days straight contained reports of several turkeys wandering around town after apparently escaping from someone’s back yard.

“There’s a turkey loose on Main Street. Will the owner please collect,” read one item. And another: “A turkey was spotted just outside the IGA.”

The owner, apparently, did not respond.

But perhaps someone else did.

Days later, there was an ad on the local town eBay site: Cooked turkeys for sale.

The loosed turkeys were never again seen. Nobody made the connection.

Police made no arrests.

Then there was the day that a moose gave birth to a calf across the street from the Mountain Market, a popular downtown gathering spot with its cheerful orange walls contrasting the winter gray and gloom lurking outside.

Coffee-drinkers gathered at the windows. Perhaps a policeman showed up to reroute traffic. But no EMT responded. Like they always do, people here let nature take its course.

In the past, Haines has become an almost Doctor Seussian world featuring ducks with diapers and grizzly bears with green noses. (Oh! The places they’ll go!)

First, allow me to relate the tale of Finnegan the dirty duck. I can tell it no better than the reporter at the Chilkat Valley News, who spun not just one, but two yarns a year apart, each with delicious duck details.
Here’s the first:

“Talk about a lucky duck.

“Finnegan, a 4-year-old khaki Campbell that moved to Haines with owners Gene and Michele Cornelius a few weeks ago, watches movies from the living room couch. He goes camping and plays in his owners’ slippers.

“Also, he wears a diaper.

“The Corneliuses moved here from Homer with Finnegan and three cats in a VW camper. They didn’t set out to live with a duck. They brought Finnegan and a female duck, Phoebe, home four years ago, for the purpose of producing eggs.

“They started bringing the ducks in at night after having trouble keeping their duck pen warm. But Finnegan and Phoebe quickly became a part of the family and the couple started diapering the pair to accommodate time indoors.

“Last August, Phoebe was killed by a lynx. “Finnegan was very sad. There was a lot of sadness in the whole family,” Gene said.

“Ducks need companionship, creating another reason to include Finnegan in family activities. “People do find it unusual,” Gene said. “It’s not common, obviously.”

“Now the couple is looking to find a permanent mate for their little buddy.

“A classified ad on the Haines Community Website describes the “handsome” khaki Campbell drake as a lonely duck in the prime of life, seeking a mate, ideally a good egg-layer. The ad assures the relationship would be for the long-term, and the mate would join “a loving household” and not get eaten.

“In the meantime, Gene and Michele are Finnegan’s closest friends. During evenings indoors, Finnegan plays with string toys, struts about and hops onto the couch to snuggle during a movie.

“Finnegan wears a diaper because waterfowl can’t be potty trained.

“If you don’t want stuff inside your house, on the floors, walls…put a diaper on him,” Gene said. But since changing the diaper is “messy business,” Finnegan typically doesn’t spend more than a few hours a day wearing one.

Phoebe II arrived in June from a local family who owned a flock of ducks. After learning about Finnegan’s situation, they offered them one of their ducks. The Corneliuses chose the duck that reminded them most of the late Phoebe.

Gene said Finnegan and Phoebe II took to each other immediately. “They’re virtually inseparable.”

If one duck crosses the yard, so does the other. It’s as if they were lifelong sweethearts, he said. They snooze just a couple inches apart from each other in their pen, which is electrified to prevent bear intrusions.

The duck duo wanders around the yard during the day. They enjoy rainy days and the “associated puddles,” Gene said. Their favorite hangout is the composting seaweed pile.

Phoebe II is more guarded than Finnegan. She doesn’t allow the couple to pet her, but she does eat treats from their fingers. “They both go nuts for salmon and crab,” Gene said.

Phoebe has an “obnoxious quack,” Gene said. “She uses her loud honk to inform us that we are disturbing her, especially when we are shooing them back into the pen for the night, or that we are being remiss in our salmon and crab delivery duties.” But she also uses her impressive set of lungs to alert the couple when moose wander into the yard.

In contrast to “clueless” Finnegan, Phoebe II has an eye for winged predators. She can spot a bald eagle hundreds of feet in the air. If the couple sees her with her head up, it’s guaranteed there’s a bird overhead, even if it’s just a dot in the sky.

She’ll “hunker down,” still, watching with a wary eye.

Phoebe II is also a wonderful egg layer, producing one a day.

In addition to the ducks, the couple also has three cats, one of which tries to befriend the ducks. That cat usually gets his face pecked. While they tolerate the cats from a distance, the ducks, particularly Phoebe II, peck the cats’ faces if they get too close.

Despite having his new friend, Finnegan still appreciates having his “mirror friends,” which are still in the pen. Finnegan likes standing on “a hump of grass that serves somewhat as a throne” and gazing into the mirror. Phoebe II watches.

Also, with Phoebe II in the picture, the Corneliuses have gotten some freedom back, as they now can leave the house without bringing a lonely duck along. Their days of “traveling with quackers” are likely over, Gene said. The couple plans to have a duck-free house and diaper-free ducks this winter. There’s no way Phoebe II would let them bring her inside, much less put a diaper on her.

But, wait. There’s more.

The following year, a follow-up story graced the papers of the weekly paper.

Read on.

“A lot can happen to a duck in a year.

“Finnegan the diapered duck spent the winter indoors floating in the bathtub, strutting in front of mirrors, and watching TV from the foot of his owners’ bed.

“During stressful or violent scenes, he’d turn and face the opposite direction, or leave the room. But when the credits rolled, he quacked.

“He also survived a bout with avian botulism and was chased by a mother moose.

“But perhaps most importantly, Finnegan found a friend.

“A year ago, Gene and Michele Cornelius posted a classified ad on the Haines community website in search of a companion, ideally a mate, for Finnegan, the 4-year-old khaki Campbell who spent evenings in a diaper watching TV with Gene and Michele.

“Finnegan had become sad and lonely following the death of his mate Phoebe, killed by a lynx.

“The Corneliuses became his closest friends. He accompanied them on errands in town and on camping trips. While they were home during the day, he roamed outside near his pen. Once evening came, they brought him inside and diapered him.

“Now, Finnegan spends all his time outside the house with Phoebe II.

“She’s a robust, “bulbous looking” duck, with “a head too small for her fat body,” Gene said.

The diaper is fastened by a harness that fits around the duck’s torso and holds a piece of a cloth baby diaper that Michele cuts to fit. The couple found it online at avianfashions.com, where duck diapers include ones with a polka-dot design. “You could get really snazzy with it, but we like the basic black.”

Inside, the diapered duck also “hangs out” with the couple’s cats, but they’re not close friends, Michele said. “They have respect for each other. They acknowledge each other as family, but they don’t cuddle up together,” Gene said.

Finnegan approaches the cats, but the cats don’t approach him, because if they do, the duck will snap at them.

When Gene or Michele are home during the day, they keep Finnegan in a beefed-up chicken coop and pen at their home near Letnikof Estates. Finnegan’s pen is equipped with mirrors to help fend against loneliness. “They’re not too smart,” Michele said.

And when the couple isn’t home, neither is Finnegan.

“Anywhere we go, we have our duck with us,” Gene said. Finnegan accompanies them on trips ranging from town errands to camping trips in national parks. Out and about, Finnegan travels in a kennel-sized rubber tub that contains straw, food and water.

On long road trips, Finnegan gets out at rest stops, just like everyone else. A leash that fastens onto his diaper allows the waterfowl to roam safely. Stares from strangers aren’t uncommon while walking their duck on a leash, Michele said.

On camping trips, Finnegan likes swimming in streams — but not without his leash, which prevents wandering and offers protection from other animals. “With the leash, we’re able to reel him into safety,” Gene said. Finnegan once had a run-in with a bear, but fortunately, the couple was nearby. “He’s a good camper,” Gene said.

There are challenges to bringing a duck camping, and everywhere you go. The couple would like to go out in their boat, but taking Finnegan with them would prove difficult and hinder the outings. “We would like to not always have a duck with us,” Gene said. (A Suessian line if there ever was one.)

Ducks have more personality than people think, Gene said. But since most people with ducks have more than one or two, they’re unable to see differences. Gene and Michele know their duck. They say his favorite treats are broccoli, cabbage and dandelions. He especially enjoys bugs, slugs and flies.

If Gene and Finnegan are inside the house, and Michele leaves, Finnegan runs up to the window and watches. He sleeps in his travel tub, which doubles as his bed and is brought into the house at

nighttime. In the morning, when Finnegan hears his owners up and moving, he lets out his guttural quacks that sound something like “baat.”

Lastly, there comes the saga of the punk-rock bears.

Haines is used to grizzlies, brown bears and black ones.

But not green.

Last spring, two green-splashed bears appeared along the Chilkoot River, sending tourists and nature photographers scrambling for footage.

First, local wildlife biologists say, someone said the green-colored sow and her cub were first seen in a backyard in Haines. Tom Ganner, photographer and bear monitor at Chilkoot, took photos of the bears near the river later that day.

Ganner’s photos showed the cub was solidly covered in green from its face and head to its waist and down one front leg. The sow had green on her head, neck and shoulders.

Local tongues immediately wagged.

Some speculated the paint job could have been intentional to make the bears less attractive for tourist photos. Or the bears startled someone who sprayed them with an industrial paint sprayer.

“They were so well covered,” Ganner told the paper. “Would there be that much paint in one can?”

Nobody figured out what happened. Or admitted to doing the deed.