First Great Egrets

I put in on the far side of town, under the high bridge. There is just one more hour until high tide and the current is already starting to lessen. A Red Throated Loon is fishing about 50 yards ahead of me and a Common Loon is off to my right in the middle of the river. Just below the drawbridge, I find a second Common Loon.

The wind is out of the south and west and is probably blowing about 10 mph. Even with that and the flood current, it is an easy downriver paddle. When tides are higher than average, long stretches of slack water and eddies form along the east shore. I spot a good sized flock of birds at the far end of the marsh, almost a mile away. 

Upper entry to the Nell's Island maze

I head into the Nell's Island maze.  The upper entry has a fork in it, and for the first time, I take the left arm. It is more open than the right arm, but it returns me to Nell's Channel in a hundred yards. I find another way in off of the channel, but it has a patch of very shallow water that would be mud in all but the highest tides. I can write off this route.

Near the lower entrance to the maze, I spot a white pvc pipe standing vertical in the spartina. This needs to be investigated, and it turns out to be my first Great Egret Sighting of the spring. Nearby are four more Egrets. Aside from that, I am flushing some Black Ducks and finally, some small flocks of Teal The flock of birds that I saw earlier were Teal.  Black Ducks, Mallards and Teal are fairly plentiful in the marsh today.

The first Great Egret of the spring

Yesterday, one of my canoe contacts posted a question about what type of GPS watch people preferred. My first response was, "Don't you know where you are?" Later, I added that I use a map and compass, my GPS works only if you slap it just right, and I leave it at home anyway, and my flip phone doesn't have a browser. Canoeing long ago became a way for me to connect spiritually with the environment. I learned pretty quickly that the use of GPS for route finding or route recording was not only superfluous, but actually detrimental to my spiritual intentions. Every time I referred to the device, I found that it took several minutes to get back to where I was. I've described it as a sky-down view when what I was really looking for was an earth based view.

Selden

I put in at Ely's Ferry Road.  It is near high tide, but with the river running high, there is a stiff current to paddle upstream against. It is in the 40's with a light downriver wind, and cloudy.  It feels cooler than it actually is.  As soon as I turn the canoe upstream, an immature Bald Eagle swings out from the top of the forest, and an Osprey arrives, fishing out in mid river.

Unlike the section of the river near the Mattebasset (see yesterday's entry), the river in this area has a good amount of buffer space - marshes, coves, and tributaries where excess water in the river can spread out. The water here is probably on the order of a foot above normal, although the current has an extra half mile per hour behind it.

It is a slow paddle upstream against the wind and the current. As I near Joshua Creek, the call of a Hawk...it's a Red Tail and it turns back flying away from the river. 

At the bottom of Selden Channel, I hear the whistles of Osprey.  At this time, Osprey are migrating through or finding their way back to nests in the area.  It is a surprise to find a mated pair already at their nest, and they've been doing work as the nest is looking quite solid. 

There is a good deal of beaver sign on the shoreline. In fact, it is rare to pass more than a few yards without seeing a cut saplings, a drag, or feed site.  A pair of beaver slip off the bank to my right. I only see one, but there are two bubble trails heading in different directions. The bubbles come from air squeezed out of the fur as they swim. The beaver surfaces ten feet ahead and gives me a good tail slap.  I spin the canoe and wait for the beaver to surface, then take a photo and leave it in peace.

Unusually, there is a strong current in the Selden Channel.  It took an hour to paddle up to the bottom of the channel and it takes another full hour to get to the cove at the top of the channel. I flush about a hundred Black Ducks and Mallards while in the channel. There are a few Common Mergansers as well.

Muskrat

At the top of the channel I turn and head back. With the current, it is an easy paddle, even without the wind, which has gone to calm. I spot one very fast muskrat as I head down the channel.

Giants in the Earth, the Castor Canadensis Edition

 I have new thoughts on the Mattebasset River. The title of this entry refers to Ole Rølvaag's novel about Norwegian homesteaders in the Dakotas.  The novel ends rather bleakly when the promised land turns out to have some hard edges.

Gusty wind is predicted, but I make an early enough start that I seem to have evaded it.  Putting in, it is already in the 40's and warming with a very light wind.  The Mattebasset is my go-to river for windy weather, being well protected by hillsides and trees. The water is high, the result of flooding in the Connecticut River, which this river joins just a few miles down.  In this reach of the Connecticut, there is a shortage of riverside marshes and tributaries to absorb high water events. Today, the water is about 5 or 6 ft above normal.  Five days ago, there was another 8 feet of water in here! This is an important detail for today's entry. 

I cut the river bank through a narrow bit of shallowly flooded forest into the Hummingbird Marsh.  It is worth the effort as I spot my first Osprey of the spring, high overhead circling and hovering, on the hunt. Two more Osprey arrive a few seconds later.  I also flush several Wood Ducks as I edge the more open water at the edge of the marsh.

The Mattebasset has always been a good place to come for the chance beaver sighting.  There are usually a few lodges to find and lots of beaver sign - scent mounds, gnawings, and downed trees.  It is unusual in that it lacks stability as a beaver habitat.  While there are always beaver here, lodges don't last very long and it is rare that any lodge gets enlarged enough to show that there is an active and producing colony.  And, that gets back to the high water that I mentioned.  

At first glance, whether or not you are a beaver, this river seems to be ideal habitat.  I can imagine a newly arrived beaver writing home to the folks to tell them of the forty acres of bottom land forest with running water and no competition for territory, sort of like Rølvaag's settlers when they arrived in the Dakotas. Unfortunately, once a year, if they are lucky, the river will flood.  And it will not flood just a little, but rather the water will rise up until it is five, six or ten feet above the top of the beaver lodge.  This forces the beaver out of the safety of the lodge.  If the flood is short lived, the beaver might return to their lodge, but more often the flood lasts a week or more.  At that point, the beaver will abandon the ruins and build a new lodge.  And, if that keeps happening, as it has recently with two or three flood events per year, the beaver move on.  

The Point Lodge - only 2 feet exposed.  It is a 4 foot tall lodge.
The water level was about 8 feet higher five days ago.
I expect that this lodge will be abandoned.

This is without considering the need to reproduce.  Beaver have kits in late winter or early spring. They have a set each year and the kits are allowed to stay until their second year, at which point they are pushed out and must go colonize new territory.  With two or three floods each year, reaching a stable colony has to be very difficult, and based on the rarity of large lodges, it's probably not often happening in the Mattebasset. 

I make it down to the Coginchaug River just as the wind arrives.  It has come up quickly, and rather than head up into the Coginchaug, I turn back.  This is the wrong side of the wide open marsh considering the wind.  I spot an adolescent Bald Eagle on the return. It has the white head and tail, but still has light blotches on the body. I pass the put in and head up as far as the railroad trestle, which I manage to pass without portaging.  And that is far enough for the day.  I head back out.

The Home Turf

I set out into a murky day just as the morning mist dissipates. The tide is very near high and there is no wind with a temperature somewhere under 50F. I follow the east shore down the river to the marsh.  I was just thinking about how I hadn't seen any Common Loons in their normal fishing area around the bridge when one surfaced in mid river.  

At the top of the marsh, I head over to Nell's Island.  With the high tide, it is a perfect opportunity to head into the Nell's Island maze. I flush some Black Ducks and scattered Canada Geese in the maze, and make it through to the south end of the island with only one wrong turn, although I seem to find the exit via a secondary channel that I've not before been in.

Ducks and Geese are well distributed throughout the marsh, which I credit to the end of hunting season a few weeks ago.  I flush some Geese, which sets off a chain reaction of Ducks and Geese going to wing.  But, unlike during hunting season, I watch them settle down in the marsh again.  In hunting season, they just leave the marsh. I flush a flock of seventy five Green Wing Teal from the center of the marsh.  I saw a hundred or so Green Wing Teal yesterday in the Connecticut River, so they are definitely on the migration. There are more Teal scattered throughout the marsh.

I somehow miss the passage leading to the Central Phragmites Patch, so I back out, interrupted very briefly by a Snipe flying at high speed across the top of the spartina. I take an obvious route over to the east shore, then cut back into another inner channel that leads to the top of the marsh. A Harrier sweeps through. I really like watching Harriers hunt, gently and silently gliding low across the top of the marsh, weaving and bobbing at times to get closer looks at possible prey.

 

Nest Check

A couple hundred yards before the Boulder Swamp, I spot a mature Bald Eagle soaring in a thermal about 300 ft up. The only wing motion over the next couple minutes is a subtle dip of one wing to adjust its turn. When I reach the Boulder Swamp, the Eagle is directly overhead and about a 100 ft higher.  Then, it turns east and glides off until disappearing behind the trees. In another minute, another mature Bald Eagle comes in from the north.  It heads towards a nest that I am familiar with.  I get to the nest just in time to see the Eagles do a shift change, trading off the hunting and egg sitting roles.

The old mill race, which is about the same size as the river at this point

I make my way through the Boulder Swamp. At a lower tide one has to slow down to avoid pasting one of the many barely submerged boulders, which I assume are substantial leftovers from the ice age. The Lieutenant River narrows significantly after the boulders, coming down from Rogers Lake as little more than a steep creek. The river presents its usual M O. with the channel blocked by a good sized deadfall. I have only once made it up the next 1/3 of a mile to a old mill dam. I don't need to go up there bad enough to clamber over this deadfall. On a positive note, the deadfall is the result of beaver gnawing halfway through the trunk.

Common Merganser - male

I back out and take the other arm, a meandering dead end  that heads into a dense cattail marsh.  I flush some Black Ducks and several Wood Duck pairs. Then, I back out of there and head down river, passing my put-in with intentions of going to the Watch Rocks. I retrieve a wandering paddleboard, which is in new condition.  I deposit it on the nearest dock as it should belong to someone nearby. The winter winds have been tough this year - (I noticed that the canoe abuse guy at the top of the Boulder Swamp - he owns an high quality canoe that he leaves outside to rot in the UV light... the new discoloration in the kevlar laminate looks like it must have gone sailing around his property)

There is a Red Throated Loon at the railroad bridge. It is actively fishing and with each dive it moves away from me. It's the first Red Throated of the spring. 

Green Wing Teal

I's quiet down to the Watch Rocks. But then, there are about a hundred Green Wing Teal in the bay just above the rocks. I take a short break on an island near the rocks, and then wander back exploring some side channels, which it turns out, connect.

Animal Time

In between paddle strokes, I catch the calling of Canada Geese somewhere behind me.  The calls are coming through riverside forest and I suppose they have taken off from somewhere in Lord's Cove. After a piece of a minute, I can tell that they are coming from behind me, getting closer as the calls become louder as well as coming down at an increasing angle.  The calls of a flock of Canada Geese peels decades off of my life as I am taken back to the first time that I heard and connected that noise to the bird. I lean back and look overhead waiting for them to arrive.  It is amazing.  It is two hundred Canada Geese in a giant V, half of the flock in each arm, and they look to be near a thousand feet up.  They didn't come from the nearby Lord's Cove.  These Geese are on a long flight northward.  I watch them as I continue paddling upriver. The formation becomes a thin smoky smear, still visible a couple minutes after they passed over. The thin line of smoke becomes more like a ball - the formation has turned to one side or the other. They don't disappear until trees on a mile distant hill hide them from view.

It is another warm day.  The tide is high, perhaps just peaking a few minutes ago. I set out from Ely's Ferry Road, heading upstream to Selden Island.  There are quite a few Common Mergansers in the main river.

Just short of the entrance to the Selden Channel, I spot a mature Bald Eagle high overhead.  It is several hundred feet up sharing a thermal with four Gulls.  Over the next three or four minutes, the Eagle flaps its wings only three times, as if to relieve stiff muscles.  

I head into the long marsh channel on river right.  I don't go back in here often, but it is a spot that should get checked every so often.  A few hundred yards in, I find a beaver lodge. It is an exceptional build, an Architectural Digest beaver lodge to be sure - perfectly conical with well packed mud and just enough branches to hold it all together.  

First Lodge

Beaver are colonial, and finding this lodge is a sign that I should continue on.  A second lodge is a few more hundred yards.  It is also well built, although the craftsbeavership is not up to the first lodge.  I find a third lodge farther in.  This one might not be in use, seeming a bit porous, but if it is abandoned, it wasn't vacated too many months ago.

Second Lodge

 I continue, knowing that the channel will peter out, although the marsh will continue.  A hundred yards or so up from the last lodge, the scent of castoreum is thick. I have no doubt that there are more lodges beyond this point.  Scent mounds are territorial markers.  Usually, the mounds are dirt piles on the bank, but these are grass hummocks.  The beaver have smashed down the grass and plopped a couple shots of mud on top of the hummock before leaving their scent. Also of note is that there is an occupied Eagle Nest between this channel and the main river.  

I turn and head back, crossing the channel and heading back into the Elf Forest, a marsh of stunted and twisted trees.  I flush at least seventy five Black Ducks as I head in, and spot, unexpectedly, two turtles trying warming in the sun. The wind has been coming up, and I decide that it is time to start my return, as I am going to have some angle of a headwind.

Fortunately, I have the river and tidal current with me once I get to the main river.  The water is choppy, particularly by some of the bedrock points that protrude into the river. 

Taking out, three kids on bikes arrive.  They tell me about there family canoe trip last year to Kilarney, a provincial park in Ontario. It's good to trade canoe stories.

Ghost Animal

Two immature Bald Eagles circle over the put-in. 
I set out, leaving my camera in its waterproof box, deciding to paddle for awhile without the distraction. It's one of those scientific facts, that the observation of an experiment changes the experiment. Anyway, I was even thinking about how I would write in my journal about leaving the camera boxed away, and rounding the first point, where I consider myself to be entering the cove, was a bobcat, not thirty feet away. I know with fair certainty that if I go for the camera, the bobcat will be gone. I keep and eye on the bobcat as it walks warily away on a steep slab of bedrock that is the shoreline.  I fumble the camera out of the box, but the bobcat is behind some brush by that time.  It disappears like the ghost animal that it is.

It is already in the 40's and rising to 60F later with a light wind.  The tide has peaked, but not long ago so the currents are nothing to cry over. 

I head into the U-channel. I normally leave this route for the end of the trip, such as when I need just a little more canoe time, as the other possibilities in this marsh are more interesting.  I flush a few Common Mergansers and Buffleheads as I turn in.  I spot three dark birds, probably Red Wing Blackbirds, in the reeds, which are still standing as we have not had any heavy snowfall.  They trill, confirming my guess.  In the U-channel, I flush some Teal, Black Ducks, more Common Mergansers and Buffleheads,  one Harrier, and a pair of Hooded Mergansers.

I head up into the upper arm where there has been a very productive Eagle nest.  The nest is still there, but I see no activity.  I would expect that eggs would be laid by now, but I'll just have to check back later. I take one of the small side channels. It dead ends just a few yards from the Ely Ferry Road and I can see a landmark house near the shore.  I might, some day, do the portage and make this trip into a loop. 

Heading back, I divert over to the little wood bridge, just in time to see three women ride their horses over. Then, I continue out, crossing the very shallow Goose Bay to get into the main river and round the bottom of Goose Island back towards the put-in.

Salmon and Moodus Rivers

 The day is calm and warm - that kind of weather when someone might walk by and say,
   "It's kiinda warm for a drysuit, isn't it", as a sheet of ice floats by the put-in.

The first lodge, which is the newest one that I know of, is a bit shabby and still small.  However, the area around it is littered with leftover fresh peels and other signs that the colony is quite active.

Ring Neck Ducks

There are eighteen Mute Swans near the point.  A flock of about 50 Ducks flush from just before the point, when I am still at least 200 yards away.  They are dark and take off by flying low across the water before climbing out. From the quacking (most ducks do not quack), there are a couple Mallards in there, but just a couple. When I turn the point, I flush another 50 of the same type.  This time, a few circle back overhead and I get a photo, which even though the Ducks are silhouetted, the bill markings are clear.  They are Ring Necks. I flush some more as I head up the cove, but they never let me get closer than 200 yards - that is a long distance to spook from.

There is a fair current coming out of the Moodus.  No tide that I've seen has ever caused this.  Recently, we had some snow, then some rain, then some freezing rain, and a good deal of water has been locked up on the surface as ice. It is making its way into the river.  The low beaver dam is being topped by a healthy flow of water.  It takes me four attempts to paddle up and over the dam, and I do that by double poling it with both of my paddles. The last 1/4 mile up to the Johnsonville Dam is too fast to be bothered with, so I turn back. While drifting down, I am able to look around and see that there is a very active colony of beaver working in this area.  I hope the locals will leave the dam alone as a couple of feet of water in this marsh won't threaten anyone's property, and it would be interesting to watch the area go to beaver terrain.

The Moodus

I cross the top of the cove and enter the Salmon River.  There is a current, right away.  Typically, the Salmon has no discernible current  until one is about a mile up, and that is light.  I know at this point that there must be a pretty good wall of water coming over the Leesville Dam, my usual turning back point.  I also know that the last 1/4 mile to the Leesville Dam ain't gonna go today.

I flush some more Ring Necks, a two dozen strong flock of migratory Canada Geese, about a dozen Common Mergansers, a few Wood Ducks, and a pair of Great Blue Herons.

I make it through the tunnel on river right, and the current hauls me downstream.  There are a few gentle puffs of wind, and with a forecast of very gusty conditions for later in the afternoon, I put a little steam into the paddle.  The cove, which is open and shallow is no fun when it is windy.

I beat the wind.  It was an excellent day of paddling.

Marsh Deer

 I put in about two hours after low tide at the old stage ford on the East River. The rising tide has not yet reached this point, and for the first mile I head downriver with the current behind me.  I flush 3 dozen Mallards - a flock of all mallards, just as I reach the Gravel Flats. I meet the incoming tide just about the time I get to the Clapboard Hill bridge. On a side note here, an 1850 map of this area shows that there was a bridge here at that time and I imagine that this bridge took much of the traffic that the ford saw.

I spot a few Plover in the section above the Big Bends.

The Side Sneak

Coming out from under the railroad bridge, I find a Harrier gliding slowly into the wind. Then, I head into the Side Sneak, which connects to Bailey Creek about a 1/3 mile higher than does the Sneak. I spot five deer near the small treed island where the young Osprey like to perch. The deer spot me, although they can only see me from the shoulders up.  I'm able to drift by on the current and wind, so I can be still.  We observe each other for several minutes.  I lose sight of them when I turn the bend to head into Bailey Creek, but find them downstream a quarter mile. I'm in the open now, and they retreat with not much haste back to where I first saw them.

I head down, flushing scattered Black Ducks and Canada Geese, and spooking a pair of Hooded Mergansers that were underwater feeding when I rounded a bend.

At the confluence, I turn up the East River on a flood current

Duckin' the Wind

Mattebasset River

I head upstream against a stiffer than normal current. Usually the big river dictates the flow in this tributary, and the big river is at a normal level.  The extra flow is likely coming from upstream marshes that have been thawing this week.  My guess right off, is that I'll get no further than the old railroad trestle.

It is a nice sunny day with temperatures in the 40's.  The prediction is for gusty weather, and as I set out, the wind arrives.  That is why I came here today. Much of this river is down in valley and surrounded by wooded hillsides or bottom land forests. The wind is unscheduled, coming in building gusts that come from one direction, dissipate, and then build up from a different direction.  

A couple bends up, a mammal makes a quick swim across the river. It's a hundred yards out, and by the way it swims, it is most likely a muskrat.  

The Old Trestle

I get up to just below the trestle, as I thought. The current here requires lining or portaging the canoe up to the trestle, then portaging under the trestle. Then, it is just a few hundred yards to another spot that must be waded.  Unless the water is high and backed up due to the big river, going upstream from here is an exercise in canoe torture.

I return to my start point in exactly half the time I spent heading out. I continue on down.

I meet outrigger man near the first lodge. He was already out when I put in and looking at him, he didn't have fun coming back against the wind (below this point is a wide open marsh).  The wind is stronger here and I pull over for a few minutes to ponder.  I sit and observe for about five minutes.  The wind is doing what it was doing when I started, and while it might be stronger, it is still coming in slow building gusts and changing directions. 

Point Lodge

I head down to check on Point beaver lodge, which looks good and has plenty of fresh gnawing nearby. I round the point and head up the small pocket marsh that backs the lodge.  It is just too windy out in the open with what I guess to be 25-30 mph gusts. It is a good time to call it a day. Heading down farther would put me out in the wind, and going back upstream above the start point didn't need to be repeated.

Clear the Head

I put in just as the tide peaks and head across the river to the four islands. I have always had a hard time remembering the two inner islands, Peacock and Carting, remembering the names of course, but not which is which. Looking at an old map the other day, I realized that Carting was actually the largest of the four.  I just never thought of it that way because Pope's Flat and Long Island (not that Long Island) are out in the river channel whereas Carting and Peacock are off to the side.

The temperature is already running up through the 40's and the wind is light and out of the NW. Paddling up the west shore puts me in calm air except for an occasional puff.

Today, it takes about an hour for politics to clear my head, such is the horseshit in Washington DC.

I pass the Dragonfly factory, deciding to go as far as Great Flat. In the creek inlet on the west shore, I find a small flock of Common Mergansers.  I return the way that I came.

Happy Bird Day

 It is another warm and calm day.  It is a happy bird day. An owl passes close by before I am in the water. I watch it glide through the trees until it has disappeared. Heading downriver, Red Wing Blackbirds trill from the cattails with the chatter of Kingfishers in the background. All seem pleased with this day.

There is some ice in the water - small flows, five or ten square feet in area. It is ice that formed up in pockets of the cattail marsh, knocked loose by the warmth and high tide. The flows aren't big and there isn't enough that it will jam up anywhere on the river, but the bergy bits aren't to be underestimated. They started as thin sheet ice, but then had one or two inches of snow added to the top.  Next, the tidal waters saturate the snow and quite quickly there is three inches of ice.  The flows don't move much when you bump them with a canoe, and they are heavy enough to damage the canoe if you hit them wrong.

Still above the Clapboard Hill Bridge, I flush 50 Ducks from almost 200 yards away.  Too far to identify them by sight, the behavior signals Black Ducks, which are by far the most skittish of Ducks that I come across in this area. 

At the Big Bends, I flush another 50 Black Ducks, this time getting a good look at them. They in turn flush another bunch, and another. It's a chain reaction until about a 150 have taken flight.  They don't have far to go to settle in again with the wide marsh to the side of the river well flooded.

Below the railroad, I enter the Sneak, which has more than enough water for me to get through.  I flush a flock of two dozen Canada Geese while going through.  The larger than normal numbers of birds is probably due to hunting season being over, and ice conditions farther inland.  

Ring Necks

I head down Bailey Creek, then Neck River, and back to the East River. There is a small flock of Scaups about a hundred yards downstream of the confluence.

It is work heading back as the tide is midway into the ebb. In the Big Bends, I flush a small flock of Ring Neck Ducks. 

Nearing Clapboard hill Bridge, there is more ice than when I came down, with several larger flows.  I pause once when several flows are spanning the river, and then gently pick one out and give it a gentle spin with the bow of the canoe, and sneak past.  A couple of the bigger flows are about thirty feet long and five or six feet wide, and four inches thick.

East River, Bailey Creek, and Neck River

Finding More Stuff

It is one of the best days this year with a very light wind, sun, and temperatures into the lower 40's.  I put in on the Housatonic, under the highway bridge, with an hour of falling tide still to go. It would be nice to visit a different river, but if most of those rivers are open, they will have a bunch of ice moving about.

I cross the river and head upstream, following the east side of Carting Island, one of the four island complex just upstream of the put-in.  There is about 3 to 4 feet of cut bank exposed here and I consider that unlike down in the Wheeler Marsh, I almost never find anything sticking out of the bank. I would think that occasionally I would find an old bottle, but the only time that has happened on these islands, it has been a mudflat find, which is of no use at figuring soil accumulation.  These islands are only a mile up from the Wheeler, and so I'd imagine some similarities. One thing is that the cut banks on the four islands appear more stratified with obvious layers that are 3 or 4 inches thick. I do find some cobble features. Without any firm land or rock outcrops,these rockeries are almost for sure man-madeIt reminds me of an archaeology project I worked on.  The ground was old volcanic ash and the archaeologist told us, "If you find a rock, it's an artifact, because someone had to bring it here."

Carting Island

I flush a flock of two dozen Bufflheads plus an immature Bald Eagle, and a Harrier circles overhead while drifting in a down river direction.

At Peck's Mill, I spot some old trolley type rails and two associated axle/wheels and some assembled planking that seems too fine to just be a dock platform.  There was a couple of millponds above the river at this location.  An old map lists a boat yard among the mills. The rails and wheel sets could have been used for launching boats.  But, there is another possibility for the debris.  There also was a trolley line running along the river with a long fifty foot high trestle crossing one of the millponds. In 1899, the trolley derailed off of the bridge and landed upside down killing 28 people.  I make a note to myself that I need to return with a tape measure and get the gauge of the axles.

I continue up, cross over to Fowler Island and round it, rturning on the east shore.

Pushing a Little Ice

 As I have said already, this winter has either been wind or freeze.  Today, the wind subsides to something under 10mph. It is still below freezing when I put in, but with the sun, it is a nice day for a winter paddle.

The tide is almost out with not quite an hour to go. There is about 30 feet of broken ice to push through to get out into the river, but it is thin busted up sheets and slush - nothing to worry about.

I head down river toward the marsh.  The main channel has a winter mix - Loons, Buffleheads, Red Breasted Mergansers, Black Ducks and a few Mallards.  An immature Bald Eagle is picking at carrion on the mud flat at the top of the marsh. 

I head down Nell's channel, thinking about marsh morphology, as I usually do these days.  Four feet of bank is exposed on Nell's Island. The bottom of that bank was probably laid down before the Civil War. I never find anything that far down. 

Farther down the channel, I start flushing Canada Geese.  Hunting season closed last weekend and the birds tend to be more evenly distributed in the marsh when no one is shooting at them.  

Greater Scaup

I cross the river when I exit Nell's Channel, on some undeveloped brain fart that I might see something interesting on the west shore.  Of course, I don't.  The only good part of  this route is that I can view what birds are out in the main channel.  I find a Greater Scaup, which lets me approach within two canoe lengths.  I end up counting eight Common Loons as I make my way back up river. A female Red Breasted Merganser surfaces just three feet to my side. It dives and swims to just ahead of the canoe, resurfaces and flies off in great haste across the river.

What I Think About

Getting out in the canoe this winter has been difficult. We've had a few unusually long stretched of windy weather interspersed with good old fashioned cold that created enough ice to force a retreat to areas near the salt water. This morning comes calm with a steely gray sky, the advance warning of snow in the afternoon. The temperature when I set out is 27F, but the previous days have been warm enough that the only ice should be the thin overnight skim that forms in calm spots.

I put in at my usual start point about a mile upriver of the marsh. The tide has been coming in for about an hour, so the opposing flood current is still fairly light.

Near the drawbridge, I start spotting birds. It is the winter mix - a few Canada Geese, some Buffleheads, Black Ducks, Mallards, a Red Breasted Merganser.  A Loon appears, unusually near, maybe 2 canoe lengths.  I think we are both giving each other the eyeball as the Loon should dive and swim away, but it doesn't.  I get a few quick photographs, and then paddle away figuring that it has as much right to be left alone as I did. 

The mile down to the marsh has more Ducks and Geese than normal. This is a hunting pattern that I have begun to recognize; hunters anywhere in the marsh push much of the waterfowl to the outer edges, which are no hunting zones because they are near houses. 

One of my current projects is to determine the rate of accretion (soil accumulation) in the marsh. So far, I've been collecting old bottles as the become visible in the cut banks. Bottles can often be dated to a five or ten year span without any scientific equipment, and at this point, I have a 50 years per foot estimate of accretion. (In the above photo, the soil at the water level would date to some time around the Civil War.) However, much of the marsh doesn't cooperate due to it being mudflats, or for some reason, just lacking debris where I need it.  So, lately I have been looking into old maps and writings about the marsh.  Generally, I want two independent sources before I "begin" to trust any story.  One item that I read reported that the marsh was more of a bay during the 19th century.  I have my doubts about that as the only old maps (ca 1830-40) from that era that I've located were made for the purpose of selling or taxing land.  Those maps are drawn showing open water everywhere that there isn't solid land, and the lack of any marsh symbology, especially on the edges and backwaters shows that the mapmaker considered marsh to be non-land, which is not an unusual viewpoint for that time period - if you couldn't build on it, farm on it, or mine it, it was useless. Some of the "bay" idea might very well extend from viewing inaccurate maps. The first good map series that tried to show land as it was are the early USGS topographic maps, which were begun in the 1890's. There are some old sea charts, but then again, they don't bother much with marsh because you couldn't drive a steamboat through it.

I head down the main channel following the outside of Nell's Island, flushing one Harrier from the spartina as I go.  My only side trip is to check out the main entrance to the center of the island. It is shallow with the low tide, but never having been in here at low tide, it's worth the look because one never knows until one goes.  After a hundred yards, it goes too shallow to proceed.  

I continue down, passing a hunters' boat tide off to shore.  As I round the point to come back via Nell's Channel, I spot the Goose hunters about 200 yards in. I decide to leave them alone and turn back up the main channel. 

At the top of the marsh, I head back a ways into Beaver Creek, flushing about a Hundred Canada Geese and several dozen Ducks. They fly off being careful to avoid flying over the main marsh where the hunters are.  They're birds, they're not stupid.

Against the Flow

It is a calm day, the calm before the storm, of course.  We will get a half foot of snow tonight. 

With the likely hood of the inland rivers being frozen, at least likely enough that it isn't worth the drive, I return to the Wheeler Marsh. The tide is halfway out by the time I get my act together. It is an easy paddle down to the marsh on the ebb current.  There are two Loons in the usual spot, in the current near the drawbridge. I flush Mallards and Black Ducks fro the riverside all of the way down to the marsh.

Once I am in the marsh, the current is against me as marshes fill and drain... going into the marsh from any direction is against the current. I try one of my favorite inner channels, but after a hundred yards, it's obvious that I won't be able to exit out of the far end.  As I spin the canoe, I catch sight of a Harrier gliding into the marsh  behind me. At Cat Island I find a Goose hunter set up with some decoys.  He reports that it has been quiet.  The other day when I was here, I flushed a hundred Geese from this spot. I find a couple more hunters in the bottom of the marsh. They might as well have a flashing neon sign saying, "Stay Away!  Hunters!".  Geese and Ducks were well distributed throughout the marsh five days ago. But, with just a few hunters present, I haven't seen a Duck or Goose since entering the marsh.

I cross over and head up Nell's Channel, against the current of course.  There is a solitary Loon in the channel, by the upper island where I usually see a Loon or two.  I flush a Harrier from the shore - that makes six sightings, although it is probably not that many birds.