Rick Sinnott

When the man standing next to the bike rack at the Fred Meyer store adjusted his shirt, he flashed an object -- gunmetal-gray steel with a green grip -- tucked into the small of his back.

In Anchorage it might have been a handgun, perhaps a Beretta semiautomatic with dirty olive G10 grips . But this was Portland. When he leaned forward, the firearm turned into a bike lock.

I can list a hundred ways that Portland differs from Anchorage. Bikes and guns would be near the top of that list.

Anchorage may never have as many cyclists as Portland, but it can strive to promote bicycle commuting, ameliorate dangerous conditions, and teach its sometimes surly motorists how to drive in mixed company...

Rick Sinnott

Anchorage stinks.

Americans discard approximately 25 percent of the food and beverages they buy. On any given day Alaska’s largest city, perched on the edge of bear country, holds nearly a thousand tons of rotting food.

When the odiferous waste inevitably attracts bears, the most popular solution is not to move the trash, but to punish the bears. It’s as if we don’t want to inconvenience the people who are causing the problem.

This strategy has been pursued for the past century, ever since Anchorage was founded. It hasn’t worked yet...

Rick Sinnott
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When the Alaska Legislature created Palmer Hay Flats State Game Refuge in 1975, its boundary encompassed mostly publicly owned wetlands between the upstream end of Rabbit Slough and the mouth of Cottonwood Creek...

Rick Sinnott

When the Alaska Legislature created Palmer Hay Flats State Game Refuge in 1975, its boundary encompassed most publicly owned wetlands between the upstream end of Rabbit Slough and the mouth of Cottonwood Creek.

Wetlands don’t respect surveyed boundary lines. Although the wetlands on private property were part of the same complex and were just as valuable as those afforded protection, they were not included in the refuge.

Now 40 years old, the 45-square-mile refuge has grown into one of the Matanuska-Susitna Borough’s most popular destinations for hunters, anglers and birdwatchers. The refuge is managed by the Alaska Department of Fish and Game...

Rick Sinnott

I should have sworn off Roman candles after the state troopers set that moose on fire.

The 1998 incident, reported in Mike Doogan’s column in the Anchorage Daily News, with an accompanying photo, is now the stuff of legend. It started when Alaska State Troopers Peter Mlynarik and Sven Skille responded to a complaint of a moose acting like it owned a backyard off Dimond Boulevard.

The two troopers had unsuccessfully attempted to squeeze the moose into a nearby greenbelt by yelling and bluff-charging it. That didn’t work, so it was time to unholster the big guns...

Rick Sinnott

“Grow more moose” is the Alaska Moose Federation’s slogan. “Grow more debts” would be more accurate.

Despite receiving millions of dollars in state and federal grants and private donations, the Alaska Moose Federation (AMF) is struggling to pay its debts.

Unable or unwilling to pay its lease on the Tanglewood Chalet in south Anchorage, the AMF was sued in 2013 by the building’s owners and appears to have recently settled out of court for an undisclosed amount...

Rick Sinnott

Dall sheep populations have been shrinking across Alaska for two decades.

No one knows that better than sheep hunters -- one reason why the Alaska Board of Game has fielded more than 110 proposals to change sheep hunting regulations the past five years.

Most of the proposals are designed to handicap the other guy. In general, Alaska hunters would like to restrict nonresidents and guides, while the guides want the state to maintain or provide more opportunities for nonresidents, who make up the bulk of their clients. It’s the Board of Game’s job to sort out competing claims, always putting the resource, the sheep, first...

Rick Sinnott

The largest city in Alaska, my hometown, is finally 100 years old. For much of its history, Anchorage has been a city in search of a slogan.

Its first slogan is virtually unknown. On a photograph of Anchorage snapped in 1915 by Alberta Pyatt , someone, probably Pyatt, scrawled “Anchorage, Alaska, The White City.” The nascent settlement, clustered between wooded bluffs near the mouth of Ship Creek, amounted to more than 1,000 white canvas tents ...

Rick Sinnott

In an incongruous twist, a proposal to conduct a cow moose hunt in Kincaid Park won the support of the Anchorage Fish and Game Advisory Committee in the same meeting where members demonstrated their reluctance to support any existing antlerless moose hunts in the Anchorage area.

The Anchorage advisory committee decided Tuesday to support the proposed hunt in Kincaid Park, but voted to not reauthorize a popular antlerless hunt at the head of Turnagain Arm. Members once again postponed a decision on whether to reauthorize all other antlerless moose hunts in Unit 14C, a management area stretching from the Knik River to the Portage River...

Rick Sinnott

Moose have long felt at ease in Anchorage’s Kincaid Park because it was far from the madding crowd. But the bustle of civilization has overrun the 1,550-acre park, once semi-isolated on the western tip of Alaska’s largest city. Nowadays the park crawls with people most of the year.

Moose are no longer as welcome as they used to be, due to an upsurge of mostly defensive attacks on bikers, skiers and hikers over the last couple of years. Some park users have pulled a shotgun out of their vehicle or a handgun out of their waistband and stopped the troublemaker in its tracks.

Taking a different tack, Ira Edwards has asked the Alaska Board of Game to authorize a Kincaid Park moose hunt...

Rick Sinnott