|a creek that feeds the Quinnipiac River|
Everytime I've gone this way, I've passed the mouth of that inlet, thinking that it can't go far. But today, I turn in there and within a hundred yards I am rewarded with a familiar but unexpected call. The whistling draws my eyes up to an osprey standing with a fish in its talons at the top of a dead snag. It seems early for an osprey, with the day in the low 30's, but there it is.
At the first bend, a pair of ring neck ducks swim off with a speed and ease that appears almost supernatural. From the water up, not one feather so much as twitches as they disappear behind the bend. I watch for them as I take my turn around that bend, but they are gone, replaced by a waving white flag - a rather dark white tail deer ambling away into the brush.
A few more bends, maybe a half mile at most, and I spot two more white tails as they come down to the waters edge for a drink. I nudge the bow of the canoe onto a submerged log to hold me in place and I watch until they finish and walk back into the forest.
|white tail deer|
I don't go up as far as I can. I just go as far as I need to. It is a beautiful day.