I cross over to Charles Island, still early in the morning for most, this is the time for small boats and fishermen, the Thurston Howell's not yet driving their craft out of the harbor and through the wide navigation channel that I must cross. It is still cloudy and the rain has just let up, not their weather anyway. My thermos cup sits on the center thwart. I left it there just long enough to mix some rain water in with the coffee, not a discernible change in flavor, just a change in spirit. A bachelor common loon trills at me as I pass on its seaward side.
The island is calm. It is not silent, but the birds that make this home in the summer are moving little if any. Canada geese have the shore, white egrets are mostly in green trees in the center or far side of the island, although I know there are more than I see. Many of them have already dispersed for their daily feeding.
I cut over the bay to the entrance to Gulf Pond and ride the tide in, passing a black crested night heron and finding several snowy and great egrets. I spot a kingfisher fishing, just as I was wondering why I hadn't seen a kingfisher in some time. The osprey on its man-made osprey nesting platform watches me go by. I saw it flying earlier from a distance, but the flight was labored and I have no doubt that it was returning with a fish.
|black crested night heron|
|Two snowy egrets and a one great egret - the trick to telling them apart is|
I get to the railroad bridge, the gate to Indian River, but decide to return, knowing that the water up in that river needs a bit of high tide to make a good portion of it deep enough to paddle.
The clouds have parted and the wind has come up by the time I get back in the salt water, but it is mostly at my back, and it is a pleasant rolling and bobbing back to the house.