Palmer man trades in baking for bees, pigeons, ham radio

When Robert Stasco retired in February from his career as a baker, he was looking forward to sleeping-in a little. Instead, he has continued to wake up on schedule at 4 a.m., but from watering bees and flying pigeons to pruning shrubs and radioing his ham pals, he's not having any trouble filling his days.

Stasco is, to say the least, a man of many hobbies.

"I'm wondering how I got it all done before," the 62-year-old man said as he led a tour of his home.

First there is the beautiful yard surrounding his 1935 Colony house in downtown Palmer. The rock gardens, lush lawn, hanging baskets, window boxes, vegetable gardens, berry bushes and a greenhouse full of tomatoes and cucumbers are in constant need of watering and weeding. And judging by their vibrant flowers and thriving fruits, Stasco isn't shirking any of his duties.

Stasco already has Alaska State Fair entries in mind. As he has for the past years since his wife died, he will once again enter homegrown artichokes under her name. He is also growing some impressive kale, broccoli, cauliflower, and a secret entry under wraps until the big day.

But this is just the beginning of a stroll around this small, neat yard. Overhead there's the fluttering and cooing of dozens of pigeons as they fly in and out of their coop. In addition to having a green thumb, Stasco is also a pigeon racer.

Several years ago, Stasco joined a small group of Alaskans who raise and race pigeons. Today, he has around 60 birds that he enters in state competitions and is considering taking to Lower 48 races as well.

"Up here we just compete for bragging rights," he explained. In other states, there is money at stake.

For now, though, the pigeons are mostly pleasant company. Many mornings, Stasco drives his birds up the highway to Sutton or King Mountain and releases them into the sky. They always beat him back home, although occasionally one doesn't return at all.

Unlike the street-smart pigeons flapping around the water tower in Palmer, Stasco's pigeons have led a sheltered life. When a hawk begins to stalk them, they don't know what they're in for.

"They don't even know who Mr. Hawk is," Stasco said.

Other times, a pigeon will lose its way, but they are each banded with identification. If someone comes across one of his pigeons, Stasco jokes, he just asks them "When you get close to Palmer, throw them out the car window."

But mottled gray, black and white pigeons aren't the only things flying around Stasco's home. There are also the bees -- more than 50,000 of them. This year the retiree decided to try out the honey business when a friend moving out of state gave him all the boxes and equipment he needed.

Stasco isn't as sure about this newest hobby. When he drove home from the post office with his buzzing new arrivals, he wondered what would happen if he got in a car accident. And, after making it home safely, he jokes that he was a little nervous about shaking the bees out of their boxes.

"If I get stung once, I might just go down to the store and buy some honey," he said with a chuckle.

So far, though, the bees have been relatively trouble free. He fills a small pool of fresh water for them and keeps them supplied with sugar water, but the bees otherwise stick to hovering around the flowers.

But beside the cooing pigeons and humming bees, one other item dominates Stasco's yard -- a 55-foot ham radio tower permanently installed in a concrete base. Point in one direction and Stasco, call number WL7KG, can talk to people in Poland or Hungary. Point in another direction and he can visit with his brother in Washington. He has even reached Antarctica.

"A lot of these people can't believe they're talking to somebody up here," he said.

While the Internet has become a more popular mode of communication, Stasco said he still prefers the old fashioned amateur radio. And more often, he can be found standing at his fence, visiting with his neighbors about the weather or last week's parade.

"I've got some of the greatest neighbors," he said. "This is a great little community."

Between his neighbors and his hobbies, Stasco finds he doesn't have time for much else. He doesn't read the newspaper or watch TV, and he certainly doesn't do any baking.

"I haven't even made a piece of toast," he said.

Instead, he sometimes wanders over to the local doughnut shop where he takes in the smells and tastes that became so familiar during his 35-year career. But then he goes back home, home to his pigeons, flowering kale, honey bees and neighbors, near and far.