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National Geographic : 1993 Nov
Contents
uproots the byssuses, creating mini-spills. Storms that break apart whole sections of mus sel beds release still more oil. The amount is not great. Unfortunately, it doesn't need to be. "Two milliliters of weathered oil-about a third of a teaspoon-was given to wedge tailed shearwaters in an experiment," Sam told me. "Half got it in capsules. The others had it dabbed on their breast and ingested it through preening. Not many in either group laid eggs the next season, and very few of the eggs that they did lay hatched." Gail Evanoff is neither a scientist nor an environmental lobbyist. She and her husband are Native Americans who live on Prince Wil liam Sound. We were drinking tea in their home at Chenega Bay one rainy afternoon when she put down her cup and said, "You can't believe how rich this land was. We lived off those beaches. We did everything there. Hunted. Fished. Gathered mussels and lim pets, sea urchins, gumboot chitons. The bay was full of sea otters. Right across on Bettles Island was a seal rookery. Every night this time of year, you would hear them and sea lions crying and making all their noises. Now the bay is ... so quiet. We can't find anything here to subsist on, or if we do, we want to leave it alone so it can come back. Plus we have that fear that everything has been exposed, tainted - that ten years from now I'll get a can cer from the fish I've eaten. We don't trust our beaches any more." Two milliliters. I remembered the emperor geese on Shemya Island whose white heads showed dark blotches. I had thought such birds were juveniles. Biologist Vernon Byrd said juvenile patterns were different; it was oil. That night, when I took off the parka I had worn while sliding among beach rocks to spy Bird of White Waters 131
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