The Edge of the Forest

I am overdue for a trip on the East River, but today's tides aren't cooperating.  I head inland to bigger water on one of the big rivers, a plan to do more paddling and less wading.

I start well back up in the cove.  There is some wind but it feels good on the skin and will be welcome as the day warms.  The scent of warmed fresh water - that mix of green stuff that rises up from the sum warmed surface.  It's a smell that takes me back a long ways.

Once on the main river, I cross over and follow the shore closely, my line coincides with the reach of the forest.  I learned through all this canoeing that most of the good stuff happens at the edges - where the forest meets the marsh or rivers, where the meadow meets the trees, where a cliff overlooks the landscape, etc.  Those meeting places are where the most diverse animal life will be found.  But, "life is at the edges" works almost everywhere.  It works in art, science, engineering, and culture.  The most interesting place to be is where contrasting things meet.

I follow the forest closely.  Peering uphill into the eastern hardwoods on the chance that I will see something while knowing that something in there will be watching me pass.  I am not so much looking into the forest as I am looking into myself.

Sightings: Several Great Blue Herons, dozens of mallards that are either molting or too young to fly, 3 Bald Eagles - 2 immature, a weasel, a couple Kingfishers.