The Black Hall

I put in on the Lieutenant River, a tributary to the Connecticut, but just barely as it joins the river about 2 miles upstream of the sea. The tide is coming in and I have a minor current opposing me, but there is a plan.  

I head downstream and into the back channel of the Connecticut.  A series of fairly large marsh islands create a pleasant and quiet route away from the big boat traffic of the main river.  Most of the birds and animals that inhabit the area are well aware of that fact as well. The Egrets, Willets and Osprey are all in place and doing their thing, no surprises there.

The plan is to go up the Black Hall River. It too is a tributary to the Connecticut, but even more just barely than the Lieutenant as it joins the big river about a 100 yards from the sea.  With the tide coming in, I get a pushing current as I head up the Black Hall.  Here, I get the new bird arrivals of the day - Least Terns.  I spot 3 of them and watch one of them take 7 headlong dives into the water after fish in little more than a minutes time.

At the first bridge, I pass through a cloud of toxic male. 3 goofballs are heading out to crab from cheap kayaks and one of them can't resist yarking at a power boat owner.  Perhaps it was a poor attempt and masculine humor, but the guy comes off as a lout.  Enough of that.

The Black Hall is a rather pastoral river with some spartina marsh that almost passes for fields, some land that was likely farm at one time, some forest and some cattail marsh.  I spot a Bald Eagle on the bank. For a second I thought it was one of those cheesy cement yard ornaments, until it got up and perched in a nearby tree.  After the third bridge, I notice something - the boundary from salt marsh spartina to fresh water cattail is almost instantaneous.  There is a sharp bend and at that point the river left side is all spartina while the river right is solid cattail. 

I don't want to be your friend

 

 

I continue up to where the river enters a cattail marsh.  From past trips, I know that it will narrow to nothing in about a 150 yards.  Even though I had already decided to turn around here, something else has decided that I will do just that.  There is a pair of Mute Swans and the cob goes full aggression, holding up its wings to make it look larger and pumping the water, and ducking its head.  The cob comes right up to the canoe and insists in getting in the way as I spin the canoe. As I head away, the cob does one final feint, with my back turned, it does a short takeoff run at me, wings and feet slapping against the water. I have to admit, it sent a shiver up my back.

On the way out, I find that there were, and still are, 2 Bald Eagles. As I wonder if there is a nearby nest, I spot a chewed on carcass of a striped bass on the bank.  They are here to feed.