Short-tailed shearwaters used to blacken the skies on the south-west coast of Australia, so abundant were they in their coastal homes each Djilba season – the time in the calendar of the Noongar peoples between August and September, when days shift from blustery cold and wet winds to warmer weather.

In Wudjari Noongar, the language of the traditional owners of this place they call Kepa Kurl, but which since colonisation has been called Esperance, the birds are called yowli. To other cultures they are muttonbirds.

At the other end of the year, on the other side of the globe, flocks of shearwaters would darken the skies in Alaska, ready to feast on the teeming fish and squid from melting ice and snow in the Arctic summer. Like the Wudjari, the Yup’ik would mark their arrival.

But First Nations peoples on both coasts have noticed that something is wrong. They began to see sick and dying shearwaters washing up on beaches: emaciated, their bellies filled with microplastics instead of food. Birds were turning up in places they hadn’t been seen before, veering far away from their fixed migration routes as they searched farther afield for food.

Jennell Reynolds, healthy country program coordinator and senior ranger with Esperance Tjaltjraak Native Title Aboriginal Corporation, grew up hearing stories of the yowli. More than 30 million return each year to breeding colonies off Australia’s southern coastline, mostly concentrating in the eastern states – but large numbers also return to burrows in the craggy archipelagos off Western Australia’s southern coast as well as the sand hills near Esperance, an area known for its pristine waters and white sandy beaches.

“It’s so graceful seeing them skip across the water when they’re feeding and diving,” Reynolds says. “They are such inquisitive birds when they come into the land.”

In April they return north to make the 15,000km journey back to Alaska, with newly fledged chicks in tow.

In an attempt to understand the birds’ perilous journey, Tjaltjraak rangers are working with Yup’ik and other Alaskan traditional owners. The global research project combinesecological, scientific and ancestral knowledge.

“It was one of those things where you know that you’ve got this connection through this one bird,” Reynolds tells Guardian Australia. “It’s a special moment because we are all on the same page in relation to taking care of country. We both have a kinship with the animals and wildlife and we’re making sure that we have that same responsibility for looking after them.”

The collaboration began by building on pre-existing relationships between the Tjaltjraak rangers and their Eyak, Iñupiaq, Yup’ik and Alutiiq community counterparts. Early conversations revealed shared concerns about declining numbers.

David Guilfoyle, a coordinator with the Tjaltjraak rangers, spent many years living and working in Alaska. He says those longstanding community ties helped fast‑track what is now a formal cross‑cultural partnership.

The project aims to form a clearer picture of how the birds live: their migration patterns; how deep they plunge the ocean in their quest for food; and ultimately the risks they are facing in a changing environment.

“It’s very holistic,” Guilfoyle says. “It’s not just looking at the species so much as looking at the whole ecosystem and what role these birds play, and what we can do to protect and manage them. But we can’t do that until we get a lot of data.”

The rangers knew the birds returned each year to colonies off Esperance; Alaskan communities knew when they arrived in their waters. But the exact route, the staging areas and what was happening in between remained largely invisible.

To answer those questions, Tjaltjaak rangers had to catch and tag the yowli. That meant working quietly and quickly in cold, dark and potentially snake-infested sand dunes on an island in the middle of the Southern Ocean, with only red torchlight to see by, says one ranger, Hayleigh Graham.

The team placed tiny, almost weightless sensors and tags on them – which required a little finessing to ensure the technology would adhere to delicate legs and tails.

“We had to sort of sand it back, so we made a bit of glue but the glue didn’t really work as well, so then we tried double-sided tape but, nope, that wasn’t so good,” Graham says.

“We ended up having to get some smaller zip ties to try and trim it off and make sure the ethics of the way we put it on wasn’t hurting or damaging the birds, and then as the sun started to go down, within a few minutes, we got our first yowli.”

By the end of the night, they had tagged 21 birds.

“It’s still really early days,” Guilfoyle says. “We’re really nervous. I can’t sleep since we’ve tagged these birds – every hour I’m checking the map about where they’re going. It’s like being an expectant parent.

“We watch them every day, so now it seems like they’re starting to slowly track towards Tassie, and then eventually they’ll just start missioning north to Alaska.”

Tjaltjraak rangers say the birds are not only culturally significant but vital to the area’s delicate ecosystem. The shearwater’s fixed habits make it a warning sign for the health of their breeding and feeding grounds.

“It’s like an alarm bell,” Guilfoyle says. “If we don’t see them as much now, what have we lost? At the very basic level, that observational data is a call to action: we need to make sure that we’re not just falling for the trap of shifting baselines.”

Climate threats

Estelle Thomson is a Yup’ik leader and president of the Native Village of Paimiut Traditional Council. She lives in Anchorage and works closely with Indigenous rangers and wildlife ecologists as a bird migration advocate and vice-chair for the Yukon River Inter-Tribal Commission, which represents 43 tribes from the Bering Sea to territories bordering Canada.

She says the shearwater were not originally one of the hundreds of birds that flew to the vast Yup’ik lands but were usually found on a cluster of islands in the Bering Sea. But they have been recorded as far south-west as the Kuskokwim River, far from their traditional migration path.

“They typically go to the Aleutian Islands … but because of climate change and because of a whole bunch of extenuating circumstances, they’ve actually been starting to come into my region,” Thomson says.

“We can tell when things are starting to go a little bit awry with the birds. We can tell when they’re not getting enough food, if they’re not coming in at the times that they normally do. We can tell when they’re late. We can tell if their food sources are having difficulty.”

The permafrost tundra is melting, leaving the region vulnerable to typhoons and other extreme weather events. The climate emergency is displacing Indigenous peoples from their lands. Once-abundant traditional food sources are becoming scarcer.

Many of those food sources are migratory birds – some 220 species of which spent part of the year in Alaska. Thomson has partnered with Indigenous peoples around the globe through a collective calledChildren of the Sky, which brings First Nations people together to gain a deeper shared understanding of migratory birds and their place in our ecosystem.

“Our peoples have specific, traditional ecological and Indigenous knowledge about our non-human relatives,” she says. “The people on the other side of flyway that we’re on also carry knowledge. So when we get together, we’re able to share what we know from each of our perspectives …

“The birds are a global citizen. This bird has no allegiance to any specific country. It doesn’t look at the boundaries of borders.”

Reynolds says she hopes the project will open the way to other cross-cultural endeavours.

First, though, rangers will have to catch the birds again next November to remove their tags.

“We’re all custodians now,” Reynolds says. “It’s not just us. It’s everyone’s responsibility to be able to care for country.”

ANCHORAGE, Alaska (KTUU) – Anchorage police have identified the person found dead outdoors Monday in the 3500 block of Lois Drive as 19-year-old Kelly Hunt.

According to APD, Hunt arrived in Anchorage on Jan. 6 and was staying at a home in the 3200 block of Oregon Drive. Police said she left that residence on the morning of Jan. 7. She was reported missing to the Anchorage Police Department on Jan. 11, and detectives were assigned to investigate the case.

Police said next-of-kin notification has been completed.

The body was discovered at about 8:56 a.m. on April 20, when officers responded to a report of a deceased person outside on Lois Drive. The death remains under investigation, and no arrests have been made.

Authorities said the State Medical Examiner will determine Hunt’s cause of death.

“We acknowledge the loss for family members and for the community,” APD Chief Sean Case said in a statement. “This case remains under investigation, and therefore, we are limited in what information we can share. We ask for understanding and patience from the community as detectives continue to conduct this investigation with urgency and accuracy.”

Hunt’s family also released a statement thanking the community members who helped search for her after she was reported missing.

“The family would like to express our deepest thanks and gratitude to everyone who has taken part in the search efforts for our sister Kelly. Your time, dedication, and compassion mean more than words can describe. From the volunteers who did ground searches to those sharing information, and offering support, each of you has made a difference. In moments like these, it is your kindness and sense of community that shows strength and hope is out there. Thank you for standing with us, for not giving up, and for showing such care and love during this difficult time.”

This is a developing story.

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Alaskans take care of each other. It’s part of what defines life here. People look out for their neighbors, step up in hard moments and take pride in contributing to something bigger than themselves.

That same spirit has long defined Alaska’s labor community. Unions helped build this state and continue to keep it running today, grounded in hard work, fairness and a shared commitment to the communities that make up the Last Frontier.

We know this firsthand as members of the American Federation of Government Employees, the union representing federal workers, and as former public servants at the Environmental Protection Agency and Department of Veterans Affairs.

The work of the EPA and VA may look different day to day, but it is rooted in the same purpose: taking care of Alaska communities. At the VA, that means providing care, support and dignity to those who served our country. At the EPA, it means protecting the fundamentals that keep people healthy, like clean air and safe drinking water, and ensuring an environment where Alaskans can thrive. Together, that is what care for Alaska looks like.

But right now, decisions coming out of Washington are making it harder — and in some cases impossible — for Alaska’s federal workers to do their jobs. And it’s Alaska communities who are paying the price.

The workers being targeted aren’t faceless bureaucrats. They are your neighbors. They live and work in the communities they protect. They are the nurse helping a veteran manage chronic pain, the technician ensuring a rural water system is safe to drink from, the scientist monitoring pollution that could threaten our fish stocks. We’re speaking out on their behalf because many of them simply cannot, out of fear of discipline.

In Alaska, federal workers are especially essential. We have the highest percentage of veterans in the country, and our communities are deeply connected to the health of our land and water. When the federal workforce is dismantled, the consequences are immediate and severe. And we are already beginning to see what happens when they are weakened.

The EPA has canceled roughly $280 million in grants that were funding water infrastructure, energy and resilience projects across Alaska. With funding gone, many of these projects that keep communities and the local economy healthy are now delayed or abandoned altogether.

That doesn’t just put public health at risk. It also costs good jobs that Alaska workers rely on. Local engineers, construction workers and skilled tradespeople — many of them union members — depend on this work to put food on the table. When funding disappears, so do job opportunities and the paychecks that come with them.

At the same time, the VA in Alaska is facing staffing shortages and hiring freezes, with over 20% of staff lost in 2025. Fewer providers mean longer wait times, delayed care and gaps in services that veterans rely on.

Across both agencies, we are seeing a pattern: workforce cuts, funding reductions and political decisions that undermine the ability of public servants to do their jobs. As we’ve seen time and again, weakening this workforce is not just an attack on federal employees; it is a direct threat to Alaska’s public health and safety.

Alaskans expect and deserve better from our elected leaders. We expect our representatives in Washington to stand up for our state’s interests and reflect its values and what it means to take care of one another — not just in words, but in action.

Sen. Dan Sullivan and Rep. Nick Begich have instead stood on the sidelines as the funding we need is taken away and the federal workforce we rely on is hollowed out.

We have seen zero urgency to stand up for Alaska’s federal workforce who keep our water safe, care for our veterans and support our communities. With midterm elections approaching, Alaska voters should question if we have leadership that actually cares.

This isn’t about partisan politics. It’s about priorities. Our representatives should be leaders willing to stand up for the people who make Alaska work. Sen. Sullivan and Rep. Begich have failed to be leaders and instead have chosen to stand by while critical services are hollowed out and communities are left behind.

Alaska deserves leadership that will not sit quietly while decisions in Washington put our communities at risk. It deserves leaders who understand that investing in federal workers is not optional but essential.

Because in Alaska, taking care of each other isn’t a slogan. It’s a responsibility. And it’s one we all share.

Declan Farr and David Traver are both American Federation of Government Employees members who have served Alaska through their work at the Environmental Protection Agency and Department of Veterans Affairs.

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