Into the Gray Sticks

 I set out from the top to paddle down into the gray sticks, my own name for a part of the Great Swamp where beaver have flooded out a large area of forest.  Recently, I've seen these dead tree swamps referred to as "ghost forests".  Not being superstitious and being somewhat more ecology minded, I'm not a fan of the ghost idea.  That word implies far too much that just isn't so.  

I chat briefly with a woman at the put in and help her carry her kayak to the water.  But, I am first in and first away, which has great advantage in seeing wildlife as no one else is here, and with the lower put-in still closed, there is little chance of anyone else being in the next seven miles of river.

Wood Ducks

 The ghost idea is proven false in short order.  I don't pass a minute without being insight of or in earshot of a Redwing Blackbird.  I spot a Pileated Woodpecker not 50 yards into the paddle and I flush over a hundred Wood Ducks during the paddle outward.  A friend of mine once told me, "when trees die, they become condominiums."  

Red Bellied Woodpecker

 

In a series of three bends, and these bends are quite closely spaced in the upper section, I spot a muskrat, a dozen Wood Ducks, a Red Bellied Woodpecker, four turtles, some Swallows, several Grackles and ten Canada Geese.  Not too ghostly.

I have not been here for a about a year and a half, and I find a beaver lodge that has been built and abandoned while I was away.  But, I also find another new lodge that is clearly occupied with some left over winter food still in storage and the pleasant odor of castoreum, the territorial marker of beaver.  The river is pretty clear of obstructions.  I slide over two small beaver dams and have to drag around one downed tree that is far too large for my hand saw.

Abandoned beaver lodge

I spot a pair of White Tail Deer.  The doe hasn't seen me, so I sit and drift and observe.  Her yearling spotted me, but didn't know what to do and just went back to browsing.  Finally, the doe notices something and stares at me.  Deer vision tells her that something is there, but as long as I don't move she'll have trouble figuring out what it is.  I slowly get off a few photos and finally drift close enough that it is time for them to put their flags up and retreat into the trees.

 

 

It has warmed up and the peepers (frogs) are doing what you'd expect peepers to do.

I turn back at the old highway bridge that is about 50 yards upstream of the current bridge.  It's the only road crossing in this section and I was able to scan the river as I drove over on my way up.  Unfortunately, it is prone to a lot of blow down, and the beaver have built a dam across the underpass of the old unused bridge.  It looks to be a good deal of log crossing - about a half hour of effort I reckon to get into open water again, and it's just too nice today to go through that.

It is an easy and pleasant return with little to add other than I sawed off a larger deadfall having noticed that someone had cut 3/4 through with a chainsaw.  I imagine, looking at the way it was being cut, that the chainsaw binded in the kerf bad enough to force the user to surrender.