Our neighbors are nosy. They hang out in the yard and peek in the window. They often show up before I arise and are just as likely to be at it when I nod off. This constant stream of traffic would drive many to despair, but it doesn’t bother us one bit. These neighbors, you see, have feathers.
On a spring morning a few years back, an incredible piece of remote shoreline fell out of an internet search and lightened our bank account considerably. We soon discovered that life on the south side of Kachemak Bay always has something going on, and our beaked citizens play a large part.
Harlequin duck: A splash of color and a whistle best describe another of our wintertime residents. These birds are quite vocal, especially when disturbed, and the male must rival any other Alaskan waterfowl for sheer color. The monogamous pair leaves the coast in mid-spring to nest and sometimes flies very far. A male tagged in Prince William Sound flew over 2,000 kilometers and ended up in the Anadyr River in Russia. Photo by Eric M. Beeman
In the spring, they all join in the age-old pageant of creating and rearing the future generations. April and May see not only an uptick in avian numbers, but also a massive increase in activity. The once quiet air is now rent with cavorting fowl displaying to the opposite gender or defending a patch of home turf. Great flocks of gulls and murres cloud the air around Gull Island where cliffside parking is at a premium. Colorful puffins ride the undulating swells below. Along the mainland shore, kingfishers fly noisily from perch to perch, occasionally plummeting to snatch a silvery sand lance from its watery habitat. Inland, a curious Steller’s jay peers down, ever watchful for some mislaid tidbit. Below, a fox sparrow scratches through the leaf litter on its quest for the unwary arthropod. A sudden flash of orange in the sunlit forest heralds the presence of the crown prince of the diminutive realm, the feisty rufous hummingbird. Surveying over all from the top of a tall spruce, a bald eagle chitters eagle-speak to its nesting mate across the cove, who replies in-kind.
When autumn blows in, many of our summer residents depart. Puffins and murres migrate to their winter quarters on the open ocean. Like many Alaskans, the hummers head south for their winter residence in Mexico. Soon it will just be the local stalwarts—and us. But our feathered neighbors will return once again to take their part in the spring cycle of Kachemak Bay.
Bald eagle: One eagle had just hauled a flopping halibut onto a rock and was proceeding to dine, when the other swooped down and knocked both cartwheeling into the ocean. I missed the strike but shot the rest of the series off my paddleboard. There’s always something happening on Kachemak Bay. Photo by Eric M. Beeman.
Steller’s jay: A full member of my “character trio,” this handsome and plucky corvid is our coastal equivalent of the camp robber (grey jay) who resides farther north. Whether you enjoy his color and panache—as I do—or think he’s a pest with his droppings and constant bugging, you’ll find him a likely visitor in this coastal jay country. Photo by Eric M. Beeman 
Spruce grouse: The spruce hen is another bird that really comes alive during the mating season. Normally quiet and drab in an understated way, the cocks lose whatever wariness they possess and spend several hours per day drumming their wings and fanning out their tail feathers. Birds at this time are quite territorial, and you can often find them in the same locations each day. Photo by Eric M. Beeman 
Belted kingfisher: One of our year-round residents, the kingfisher often seems incapable of flying without making a lot of noise. Kingfishers are highly territorial, constantly making their rounds and landing on the same branches along their route. Their activity really starts ramping up in mid-April, when the opposites begin attracting. Photo by Eric M. Beeman
Common goldeneye: A splendid goldeneye drake flies towards my kayak. Goldeneye often nest in tree cavities, and their newborns are precocial: able to feed, walk, and swim immediately after hatching. As one of our local wintertime residents, these and the harlequin brighten our day when we’re out paddling. Photo by Eric M. Beeman. 
Common murre: Africa has its wildebeest, old-time America its bison. Kachemak Bay has the common murre. Beginning in April, large flocks of these pelagic seabirds alight near Gull Island where they come to nest on the rocky cliffs. Like the puffin, murres use their wings to “fly” underwater in pursuit of prey. Photo by Eric M. Beeman
Tufted puffin: A summer resident of Kachemak Bay, the puffins arrive to breed and to rear their chicks in burrows above the cliffs of Gull Island. Here, I was fortunate to capture a courtship behavior known as “billing.” Photo by Eric M. Beeman
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