Harvest Season

An immature Bald Eagle is perched on the first Osprey nest, the one on the first point going into the cove.  I don't think that the nest was used this year.  Osprey are on the decline in this location although they are doing well in general. A windstorm trashed the nests a few years ago and all the attempts to rebuild have been rather half-ass.  My guess is that a combination of events are causing this. First, of course, the storm damage which killed off a whole year of Osprey chicks.  But other things are in play as well, such as normal Osprey mortality.  The adults reuse the same nest each year while going their separate ways when they migrate south.  If one dies, there is a better than even chance that the survivor won't mate and return to the same nest (if they ever return to the same nest). But that is just a guess. Anyway, there are no Osprey in the area today.

 

 I check on the cedar swamp beaver dam via a short narrow passage through the wild rice.  As I expected, the dam is 20 inches high with the pond water at the same level as the river on the outside of it.  This oddball beaver pond is filled only by high water events on the Connecticut River as there is no input stream or creek.  So, it fills up and then slowly drains after each freshet.  But, a deep beaver pond every once in awhile is better than none at all.

Wild Rice

After backing out away from the dam I realize that I have picked up a good 1/2 cup of wild rice.  Now, I am botanically challenged and have been trying to figure out wild rice for a couple years.  A wild rice plant has a long stalk with a sparse brushy head.  I always assumed that the "rice" (it is actually a grass) formed on the end of the brush.  It doesn't.  A closer look with the rice ready to harvest shows me that the grain lies on and parallel to the stems that form the brush... it's kind of hidden.  Figuring this out makes my day and I can quit paddling now if I want.  I shake some rice into the canoe for good measure and continue on.

I get bonked by an acorn that has been shaken loose by the wind. It is harvest season for wild things.

It is a quiet bird day.  No Osprey, two Bald Eagles, a half dozen Great Blue Herons, one Wood Duck and about forty Mute Swans - this is wintering ground for the Swans, so they're common in good numbers.

I paddle up to the Leesville Dam and turn back.  There is a stiff headwind on the return, but in the balmy humidity it is far more pleasant than a hindrance.