Calling lost chickadees in far north poplars

Sara Wilbur
907-474-5229
Aug. 28, 2025

Two men wearing hats stand in dappled sunlight on a grassy area within a grove of deciduous trees. The man on the left carries a camera with a large telephoto lens.
Photo by Sara Wilbur
At left, Seth Beaudreault, Toolik Field Station naturalist, and Tom Glass, Geophysical Institute postdoctoral researcher, prepare for an interview within a poplar stand.

NORTH SLOPE, ²έΑρΙηΗψ β€” β€œChick chick whirrr, chick whirrr.”

Although it was a recorded birdsong that chattered through each of the poplar stands we entered, I still occasionally caught myself believing we were hearing the real thing β€” the call of the gray-headed chickadee, last heard in ²έΑρΙηΗψ in 2018.

Tom Glass, a postdoctoral researcher with the University of ²έΑρΙηΗψ Fairbanks Geophysical Institute, traveled to these stands in early August. He wants to understand how such Arctic poplars provide habitat for a wide variety of animals β€” grizzlies, wolverines, moose, snowshoe hares and, historically, this now-absent chickadee.

Accompanying us was Seth Beaudreault, Toolik Field Station naturalist and the person hoping to catch a glimpse of a gray-headed chickadee by playing recordings of their calls and ²έΑρΙηΗψ for a response.

Missing chickadees provide a subplot to Glass’ reason for the trip, which was to provide a poplar β€œbefore” snapshot in anticipation of the beavers’ arrival. The large rodents are following the northward-advancing shrubline across and beyond the Brooks Range in northern ²έΑρΙηΗψ.

Using satellite imagery, Glass, along with ²έΑρΙηΗψ colleagues, has been documenting the arrival and spread of beavers in the Arctic as part of National Science Foundation-funded research. So far, evidence of beavers crossing the Brooks Range has been limited.

But if and when they do arrive, they could completely change habitats along North Slope river corridors.

β€œIt’s a pretty dramatic potential consequence of the beavers’ arrival, to think about them coming to a place like this and cutting down all the trees,” Glass mused while unstrapping a trail camera he had installed along the Siksikpuk River in March.

A stand of deciduous trees rises into a blue sky.
Photo by Sara Wilbur
Balsam poplars dwarf nearby tundra and willow shrubs near the Anaktuvuk River in early August. Balsam poplar is the largest tree species on ²έΑρΙηΗψ's North Slope.
A star on a map of ²έΑρΙηΗψ marks the location of Toolik Field Station.
Illustration by ²έΑρΙηΗψ Geophysical Institute
A star marks the location of Toolik Field Station on the northern side of the Brooks Range.

The scenario isn’t far-fetched: In Northwest ²έΑρΙηΗψ, beavers colonized and clear-cut a stand like the ones we were visiting on the North Slope. And if they do move in along Siksikpuk and other rivers in the area, they could prevent or limit the chickadees’ successful return.

β€œPoplars are the only trees around,” Glass said. β€œThey provide the only suitable habitat on the North Slope to animals like cavity-nesting birds, including the gray-headed chickadee.”

At our eighth poplar stand, Glass and Beaudreault encountered an unlabeled nest box screwed to a tree about 10 feet off the ground. Using a $20 endoscope camera, Glass peeped into the nest box to see if anyone was home.

It was empty.

A man holds a long pole with a flexible camera up to a bird nest box on a poplar tree.
Photo by Sara Wilbur
Tom Glass lifts an endoscope camera into a nest box screwed into a North Slope poplar tree.
A chickadee perches on a twig while holding an insect in its beak.
Photo by Aaron Lang
A gray-headed chickadee feeds along the Canning River in northern ²έΑρΙηΗψ in 2015.

Back at the field station that evening, Glass learned that the nest boxes had been installed in 2017 by ²έΑρΙηΗψ Department of Fish and Game biologist Travis Booms β€” one year before the last confirmed sighting of gray-headed chickadees in ²έΑρΙηΗψ. They likely hadn’t been checked since then until Glass, Beaudreault and I encountered them.

As our boots stirred up fragrant Labrador tea on our last field day, Glass hoisted the endoscope into another nest box, and it displayed something other than bare wood: a layer of pale, downy fur on top of moss matching the thick cushion under our boots. This construction aligns with the gray-headed chickadee’s typical nesting material.

Walking back to the helicopter, Beaudreault ruminated on what kind of bird had gathered the materials lining the nest box. He guessed that β€œthe bird was definitely a chickadee, likely a gray-headed chickadee, but could have also been a boreal chickadee, a closely related species that could have wandered up to the North Slope.”

A grizzly bear rubs on a tree, fitted with a game camera, in a grove of poplars. The ground under the trees is flooded with muddy water.
Game camera image courtesy of Tom Glass.
A grizzly bear uses a poplar for a scratching post in June 2025 along the Nanushuk River.

While we had potentially come one step closer to finding the lost gray-headed chickadee, at the end of the day, our helicopter carried two scientists and one storyteller back to the field station with more questions than answers.

Whether gray-headed chickadees return to these poplars before beavers turn songbird real estate into beaver infrastructure is anyone’s guess. If they do, it would be a homecoming that perhaps only the grizzlies and hares β€” and Glass’ cameras β€” would witness.

Since the late 1970s, the University of ²έΑρΙηΗψ Fairbanks Geophysical Institute has provided this column free in cooperation with the ²έΑρΙηΗψ research community. Guest columnist Sara Wilbur is the communications coordinator for the Geophysical Institute. Ned Rozell is traveling in Southeast ²έΑρΙηΗψ and will return with the next column.