Primordial Ooze

Yesterday's trip did the soul a lot of good.

It will be sunny and warm, although no oppressively so, but still, I picked a river where I could find shade when I wanted it.

The Mattebasset is one of my primordial ooze rivers. It is a mix of marsh, swamp and lowland forest, all of which gets flooded a few times each year. The current is slow no matter what the level, until one is a few miles upstream of the usual put-in. The banks are muddy as is the bottom in most places.  The deadfalls that lay along the banks are coated in a thin layer of silty mud that makes them look like they've been in place for a hundred years.  I keep my eyes out for fresh beaver sign, but find nothing - no scent mounds, no fresh gnaws.

Great Egrets and Great Blue Herons are working the shallows.  I spot a few Kingfishers and a couple Green Herons.  A couple of Osprey have flown over, and there is a young Hawk somewhere out in the trees making a racket near the Tepee Lodge site.

Wild Rice

Pickerel weed is still blooming, but wild rice has been added to the mix.  The wild rice stands tall above the cattails and lower marsh plants.  The top is part tassel, part worn out paint brush.  The grass seed that we call wild rice is hidden in that top.  When the seed is ripe, it'll shake loose.  It would be very difficult to harvest the wild rice in this marsh - one needs a better flooded crop.  But, it makes great bird food.

I paddle down to the big river and circle Wilcox Island - that's about a mile and a half.  It has been quiet all day.  Then, I head back the way I came.

When Everything Seems Broken

We've been recovering from a summer flu that seemed particularly nasty.  Laying around the house, napping, and checking in altogether too frequently to see what the Mango-Shit-Gibbon is doing to our country and planet is hard on the soul. Everything that the creature touches turns to shit.

It is cloudy and humid and aiming to be somewhat warm, but not overly hot.  I put in for a short trip down to the marsh, and with the tide hitting bottom not long after I start paddling, it will be short trip with almost all of the internal marsh routes being reduced to muddy ditches.

The tide lag provides a good current, better than you might expect. Although just 15 minutes before low tide, there is a lot of tidal water upstream of here that needs to find its way toward the sea.  I pass a Great Egret, a Snowy Egret, an immature Night Heron (probably Yellow Crowned), an adult Yellow Crowned Night Heron, a few Osprey, a few yellow Legs, and the usual Common Terns sitting on the last dock before the marsh.  I head down Nell's Channel, there is not much of a choice to be honest.

There is about 5 feet of exposed cut bank.  I figured, by collecting and dating glass embedded glass bottles, that the marsh accumulates soil at about 50 years per foot.  This means that at the water level, the mud bank dates to about the Revolution.  If you are wondering, I never find glass bottles at that level. In fact the lowest level where I've found a bottle is not quite 3 feet down - 1890-ish.  I've never seen anything other than drift wood at the current water level.  200 years ago, glass was rare enough that it would not have been casually discarded.  Rather, it would have been re-used as long as possible.  On top of that, the simple fact of a much smaller population limits the chance of it ending up in the marsh at all. 

I round Nell's Island and head back up the main river.  I spot only one boat on the move during the trip.  It is a quiet day, for sure. It has been good for the soul.

The Juveniles are Arriving in the Marsh

I talk S into and early afternoon trip through the Wheeler Marsh.  It doesn't take too much talking.

It's a bit over two hours to high tide, so the water in the marsh isn't too low, and the paddling will get better as we proceed.  It is cloudy and humid with a light wind.  If it was sunny it would be unpleasant. 

The last dock has about 10 Common Terns and one Laughing Gull.  The Gull lets us pass, the Terns circle around and scold us.  

We head into the Nell's Island maze.  Right away, it is a good bird watching.  Juvenile Night Herons and mature Yellow Crowned Night Herons (a close look is required to differentiate juvenile Yell0w-Crowns from juvenile Black Crowns) are taking flight every few moments.  We don't count, but by the time we leave the maze it's probably been 30 birds.  The number of juveniles is up by a factor of ten over my last visit just a couple days back.  This happens every year as the fledglings leave the rookery on Charles Island, which is a mile away as the crow flies.  We do see a few mature Black Crowned Night Herons as we go.  And, we flush a small flock of a half dozen of what are probably young Snowy Egrets.  

After a short stop at Milford Point, we head east towards ten Egrets that are perched in the trees on the east shore, a short mile away.  The white birds do stand out.  Not far into that leg, we spot one of the two Long Tailed Ducks that I spotted a couple days ago while walking the point.  Long Tails winter on the sound and the two that I saw are the earliest that I've ever seen, by far.  Long Tails differ from other ducks in that their mating colors are drab and camouflaged while their winter non-breeding colors are bright and spectacular..  Today, it is just the female that we see.  Males have long tail feathers that the females do not have.  The Duck is not perturbed by our present and goes about diving and feeding while we watch.

Female Long Tail Duck

We continue across, pass by the Egrets and head back into one of the inner passages.  Another thing that is really noticeable are the calls of unseen Night Herons as we continue.

We head back up the river. 

 

Selden and Eagles

It's a great day with sun, light wind and temperatures that will top out around 80F, and I slept well last night, so I am full of pizazz.  

I put in at Elys Ferry.  I don't decide on my route until I am seated in the canoe and floating a few feet off  shore.  I had thought about heading down river and then into Lords Cove, but turned upriver feeling that I had unfinished business with the Selden Channel.  My last trip in there was low on energy and enthusiasm, and I got no farther than the Elf Forest. The tide is still low and there is some current in the river. It is less than 2:1, but it is noticeable.

The bottom of the Selden Channel

I start spotting Bald Eagles and Osprey along the beautiful forested stretch below Hamburg Cove.  It might be 6 Eagles, all immature, but it is at least 4.

A few motorboats pass, but only one is particularly obnoxious, and once past Hamburg cove, there's nothing going on out on the water except for a Cessna float plane that makes three landings and takeoffs.
I spot a mature Bald Eagle and another immature.

Selden Channel is absolutely peaceful.  It is quiet and the water surface is smooth.  There are a few Osprey around, as usual.  Instead of the Elf Forest, I head up into the dead side channel on the river-left side.  It's been awhile since I've been up there, and it usually has some beaver sign.  I flush a couple Great Blue Herons and a couple Green Herons, but see no beaver sign at all - no scent mounds, no drags, no lodges.  I'm sure there are some in here, but there are many narrower channels for them to be in, and those narrow channels are closer to the trees.

I head back out and continue up the channel.   I don't see much in the way of animal life - it is the peacefulness of the day that is the most remarkable.

At the top of the channel, I contemplate turning around and heading back down the way I came.  But, I decide not, partly because I'd like to remember that part of the trip the way it was.  So, I cross the river and head down towards Eustasia Island.  I spot another mature Bald Eagle along the way. Although I will see more boat traffic on this route, most of it will be on the far side of this wide spot in the river.  I recross the river below Brockway Island an follow that beautiful forested shoreline towards my put-in.  All goes well right to the last 50 feet when some dicknose (this is a 100% correct term for the bunghole) in a massive cabin cruiser throws 2 feet of wake just as I get to the shallow rock bar above the old ferry landing.  I cuss the asshole, and deftly jump into water to unweight the canoe and guide it by hand over the rocks.  

It's a good day. I've probably seen 8 to 10 individual Bald Eagles today.

Housatonic 4

I put in at Pond Brook. The parking lot, such as it is (it's a big field), looks a bit like a county fair.  Apparently, a hiking club and a mountain biking club are both using the nearby trail system. There are only two other boaters, a pair of dippers who don't look like they will go very far. 

I pass four more kayakers before getting to the confluence with the Shephaug, all dippers, but wonders of wonders, 3 out of the 4 are wearing PFDs.

The day is very humid, so much so that I feel lethargic.  The sky is overcast with cumulus clouds and while it opens up a bit as I paddle, it never gets less than 90% clouds. When I get to the main river, I let the wind decide on my course.  It seems that the breeze is slowly increasing.  It is coming up the river, so I head down, following the shore closely.  It is my "Natty Bumpo" canoe technique - weave in and out of the overhanging tree branches up close to the forest so that no one "out there" will see me, while I pay close attention to everything.

I see a few Osprey, a few Great Blue Herons, and a Mallard with seven ducklings in tow. 

The wind is at my back on my return, and it feels like 10-15 mph.  I pass a herd of 6 dippers. Two of them are working their paddle boards as if they were galley slaves.  Looks like fun (end sarcasm font).  

I'd expected more motorboats, but once I left the confluence, I saw no one until my return, and that was almost nothing. 

The Advice Column

It's a nice Friday. The temperature will be about 80F, the wind is moderately light and there is plenty of sun. Low tide is around 7:00am, and I don't feel like dealing with summer highway mayhem, so I aim for something close by where the tide will be unimportant.  I put in from O'Sullivan's Island near the top of the tidal section of the Housatonic.  There is a pretty good current at the start, but it fizzles away as I head downriver. 

At the confluence with the Naugatuck, I cut over to river-left where I can paddle in the shade of river bank trees.  The water is higher than I expected. That may be a combination of the incoming tide and extra water being released from the Derby Dam. I noticed yesterday that the reservoir above that dam was higher than normal.

My mind drifts off to deeper thoughts.  This happens often when I am canoeing.  This is my spiritual place.  It was not something I planned nor was it something I was looking for.  I bought a used canoe and put it in the water, and then put myself in the canoe, and I knew it was where I belonged. It just happened. 

Recently, I watched an interview with a well known mountain climber.  Currently in his senior citizen years, he still climbs and described it as his way of staying sane.  I wouldn't put words in his mouth, but I interpret that statement as, climbing is his spiritual place."  I did a fair amount of mountain climbing when I was younger. While there were many moments of excitement, fear, physical and mental challenges, there were on occasion, these moments that transcended the earthly bounds.  Usually, in what some place where you realized that you were so small as to be no more significant than a grain of sand.  It might be a deep in a gully with thousand foot high walls on either side, on a thin ridge with a thousand feet of air on both sides, staring into a seemingly bottomless crevasse. All it took was a moment to pause and see the wonder of the surroundings.  

After climbing, I road raced  bicycles.  It was competitive, intense, and often fun.  It was never spiritual.  When I quit that, I started mountain biking in the backcountry... not racing, but just exploring. A few times each year I went on solo rides to explore trails that were seldom biked or hiked.  Those rides often had a good degree of spiritual qualities.  Being alone in the backcountry will do that.  One more thing, I grew up going to a lot of church, and never found one thing spiritual about it. It was joyless doctrine and obedience and being told that you weren't trying hard enough if it wasn't working for you.  So, what's this all about?  Find a spiritual place. I don't think anyone will be able to lead you to it... you're on your own for that.  You'll know it when you get there.

I hear the raspy whistle of a Bald Eagle.  Near the sand bar that the fishermen often use, I find a mature Bald Eagle in a tall snag. But the raspy whistle alerts me to the immature fledgling perched on a branch below the adult.  Farther down, I spot another mature Bald Eagle. I continue past Wooster Island, where I often turn back, and continue down to the unnamed island. I circle that island and head back.  Four Osprey are feeding on the submerged sandbar above the island.  Instead of high dives, the Osprey are down low, four or five feet above the water, and making last moment dives into the water.  There must be a school of small fish, but the water is too murky due the recent rainfall for my eyes to spot them.  

I spot another immature Bald Eagle as I near O'Sullivan's Island.  This one is a second year - some white feathers coming in on the head and tail.

 

 

Third Try

The weather was a little unsettled, some rain, some chance of more rain, and some wind. I headed to the first stretch above the tidal section of the Housatonic where the best start point is Indian Well State Park. However, the roads at the Derby choke point were completely choked for some unknown reason, although I suspect some road repair due to recent rainfall, but that is just a suspicion. I diverted to the Eagle Scout put in, a bit farther up and on the near side of the river, but I got a good look at the water level from the road, and it was quite high.  This section of the river is an old style reservoir from the days when engineers couldn't build hundred foot tall dams.  The normal water level is probably no more than 25 feet above to original river and the reservoir is in a 5 mile long narrow valley.  This means that the water steadily flows in and out.  High water means a lot of water is moving through, and that means that there is a real current, which is damn stiff in the upper mile and a half.  So, I divert again.

I end up putting in under the highway and paddling down to the Wheeler Marsh.  The tide is coming in, and although the water doesn't look particularly high, it feels high for some reason.  Anyway, I have the wind at my back and the opposing current is of little count. 

Laughing Gull

Common Terns are still hanging about at the last dock, but today there are a couple small black headed Gulls.  I think they are Laughing Gulls.  The only good photo that I get is an almost mature bird, its head not completely black.  At the dock Osprey nest, there is a young Osprey that is not yet ready to fly.

The rising tide shows itself as I enter the marsh.  The Wheeler is a mile by a mile and a quarter and roughly oval in shape.  Tidal currents don't move upriver and downriver in most of the marsh.  Rather, they flow in or out, much like a sponge soaking up water.  In a falling tide, if you follow the current, you'll have a good chance of finding an exit.  In a rising tide, if you follow the current you might find an open channel, or you might end up in a long dead end.

I refresh the memory by exploring channels that I have not been in for a long time, knowing that there is a reason that some of them don't get visited.  I find a few dead ends, but I also find some passsages that I had forgotten.  I see quite a few mature Yellow Crowned Night Herons, and a few more immatures than on earlier trips. It is notable that the mature birds scare well before the immatures.

It starts to rain.  It is light rain.  I look around at the clouds and where I am, the clouds do not suggest a thunderstorm.  I do not mind canoeing in the rain, but the marsh is far too open for stormy stuff.  

All in all, it is a very nice trip and I have an easy return back to my start point. 

Marsh Memory Game, and Birds

I set out from under the highway and head down to the marsh.  High tide peaks in about a half hour, so the current is just about non-existent. There is a light breeze of no significance with mostly clear sky other than some high dappled clouds. The temperature is in the mid to upper 70's.  It is a pretty good day to be on the water.

There are 31 Common Terns perched on the last dock before the marsh with another 10 or 15 in the air. By this time, I have solved all of the worlds problems, which is what canoeing is all about.

I cut through a favorite short-cut and head to another internal channel that I found earlier this year and still need to burn into my memory.  With most things in the marsh looking alike, repetition is the only way to remember which inlet leads to someplace that you want to go.  I find the internal channel on my second try, and get through it with only one wrong turn. There are a good number of Yellow Crowned Night Herons, mostly adults, just a couple fledglings.  

Short Billed Dowitchers with their usual photo cooperation

I head into the maze using the Nell's Channel entry, almost.  I take a wrong inlet, but with the high tide I can push through a canoe length of weeds to get where I was supposed to be.  I flush some Mallards, and find a good number of Yellow Crowned Night Herons - maybe 15 by the time I leave the maze.  There are several flocks of waders rising up and circling around the marsh before settling back in.  I am pretty sure that they are Short-Billed Dowitchers.  Flushing before I can get a photograph and circling around the marsh in a flock is exactly the behavior that I've seen them use in the past.  I spot only 5 or 6 Willets today, all near the bottom of Nell's Island.  When their young are fledged, they leave the marsh for better feeding. 

Immature Yellow Crowned Night Heron

I cut across the marsh somewhere near the midpoint, still amazed that I always manage to get across without running up a long dead end channel.  I head up the east side and back to the main river, where I turn upriver towards my start point.

Sleepy Time Paddle

We put in on the Lieutenant River, making it a leisurely and rather late morning start.  The weather is great - maybe 80F with a light breeze and no clouds.  The tide is falling and has been for about an hour and a half, but that is not so much an issue here. We head upstream.

It is a peaceful upstream paddle against a light current. We pass a few boats right away, but they are the only ones we will see until we come back down the river.  Great Egrets seem to be the main large bird today.  We also see a couple of Osprey and a couple Great Blue Herons.  It is pretty bird quiet.  

Lieutenant River

There is quite a bit of milfoil weed matting in the river, and it is much more than I remember in the past.

S stays on the jb picking our way through the Boulder Swamp.  The water level is just perfect for many of the boulders to be just a couple inches below the surface.  This takes us into Mill Brook, which yes, did have a couple of mills on it at one time.  There was an Eagle nest near a house in here, but last year the owners remodeled the joint, which disturbed the Eagles for most of the summer.  They abandoned the nest after their young fledged.  But, we hear what we suspect to be a young Bald Eagle calling out repeatedly from the forest just opposite the old nest.  We pause for several minutes and let the canoe drift hoping to catch sight of the nest, but we have no luck.  There is too little water to pass under the bridge on Mill Brook, so we turn and pick our way back out.

Mill Brook

We pass our start point and head down to Watch Rocks.  Still, not much in the way of birds. We head up into the short Duck River, just because I don't go in there on a regular basis.  We turn back at the McCurdy Road culvert, which would have to be portaged, and call it a day.  It is warm and peaceful in a way that makes us both rather sleepy.

It's New Bird Time

It is a great day again, perfect for canoeing and just too good to pass up.  As a bonus, the tide is high near 8:30 in the morning, which sets the stage for exploring the marsh.

Many of the larger birds are starting to fledge, or at least nearing that point in their development.  The other day when I went for a walk at Miford Point, I spotted a newly fledged Night Heron parked in the center of a large six inch deep puddle at the Audubon Center.  So a run through the Wheeler Marsh seemed appropriate.

I started from under the highway, as usual.  The tide was dropping, so it was a speedy run down to the marsh.  At the last dock, which is along one, about 30 Terns were perched with at least another dozen in the air nearby. 

I head into the Nell's Island maze.  It immediately brings to mind yesterdays trip in the Quaboag, which I noted as lacking the intimacy that I usually find when paddling in marshes.  The entrance to the maze is just a few feet wide, it bends one way or another and requires attention to the paddling.  I flush a Yellow Crowned Night Heron and a Willet, both from close up.  The water is still too high to get under the big deadfall that blocks the "easy" route.  And, my skinny bypass seems to have filled in - at least with the summer spartina, it is invisible. But, there is a deep channel around the deadfall that I do not remember ever seeing.  While the salt marshes are fairly stable in the big view, minor changes do happen as banks erode with channels opening and large lumps of root bound mud fall into open spots.  I take the normal route through, flushing quite a few Yellow Crowned Night Herons, some Mallards and a couple Willets. Only one of the Willets bothers with scolding me. 

Glossy Ibises

I cross the marsh to the east side.  The lower marsh is pretty much flooded and there are few birds.  A mature Bald Eagle heads up the east shore going past Cat Island before I lose sight of it.  I head into the Central Phragmites Patch.  The channel in is closing in and I don't know whether this is just summer spartina or mud blocks shifting about.  It is definitely a tighter fit than ever before.  I flush a Green Heron on the way in, but otherwise no birds.  It has been a preferred Night Heron hang out in the past.  Five Glossy Ibises fly over.

Newly fledged NIght Heron still with bad hair

I head up Beaver Brook.  Find a couple newly fledged Night Herons, both which are not quite sure of what to do when a canoe appears on the scene.  I go as far as the last bend before the culvert, where I spin the canoe and find a white tail doe with a pair of spotted fawns.  They walk into the water and make a quick swim across and disappearm literally, into a stand of phragmites. I spot the Bald Eagle again as it flies off to who knows where.

White tail fawn

On my way back, the Terns are stil camped at the long dock.   

Something New

I put in on the Quaboag River.  I've never been here before and it has been on my list.  It is a sunny day with temperatures in the 70's and a predicted 6-8 mph wind.  A fairly ideal day for canoeing, especially in mid-summer.

I make a wrong turn or two on my drive, but once I figure out to toss the shithead google map route, it's easy.  In fact, it's not much more than 10 miles away from the Quinabaug put-in, which I know well. The start is a hand-launch parking area very near the intersection of Rt 9 and Rt 67.

I head upriver with a tailwind.  Having not been here before, I start out paddling against the current, just in case.  But, the current is a nothing burger, just enough movement to bend the water plants and show the direction of the current.  

The first mile is in the forest with the river being about 5 canoe lengths wide.  There are a few shallow spots, but nothing that can't be paddled through.   About a mile in the forest begins backing away from the river.  Now the river is more like 10 canoe lengths wide, meandering casually through a wide treeless marsh.  In fact, there will not be a spot of shade for the remainder of the trip.

The river is beautiful, but I find it lacking in intimacy.  I am so much more used to paddling up against the swamp plants and near the forest.  The edges between ecozones have so much more going on with variety in flora and fauna.  In the Quaboag, I feel as if I am kept at an arms length.  Anyway, the paddling is good and there are few people.  I go just over 6 miles to the mouth at Quaboag Pond and return.  I see 4 dippers and a pontoon boat tour during the 4 hours.  Also, several Great Blue Herons, a couple Osprey, Kingfisher, some Geese and Mallards, an maybe a dozen beaver lodges.  

Worden Pond

An unusually perfect day for being outside has shown up.  After four very smokey days in the last five, the day is particularly special.  It is sunny with a temperature that will top out in the upper 70's and the wind will be light all day.

We put in on Worden Pond in Rhode Island.  The pond is 1-1/2 by 1 mile in size.  It is also quite shallow and develops a wicked chop in wind.  The pond is also surrounded by low swampy forest land and lies only 4 miles from the sound, so any wind finds the pond. The light winds for the day influenced our decision to come here. 

At the put in, we have a nice talk with a young man who works for the state's environmental agency.  He's spending the day talking with boaters about cleaning their boats and preventing the transporting of invasive species. Luckily, he has a book to read because there is only one boat on the water and that is a work boat doing a survey of invasive plants in the pond.  

The well built beaver dam near the bottom of the Chipuxet

We head up the east side of the pond, following the edge of the bullrushes that grow near shore.  We head into the Chipuxet when we get there.  The river enters the pond as the Chipuxet, and exits the pond as the Pawcatuck.  It is always narrow, but at this point in the summer, the beautiful pickerel weed and other plants have made the passage even narrower.  We cross one beaver dam and weave through the tight meanders for a few hundred yards, but decide to go back and explore the the edge of the pond.

We head across the top of the pond, often paddling through the bullrushes. We head down the Pawcatuck a short ways.  It is much different than the Chipuxet.  The Chipuxet runs through marsh - it is surrounded by low plants - cattails, shrubs pickerel weed.  The Pawcatuck runs through swamp with a forest canopy overhead in most places, although there is very little dry land anywhere.   Once S gets the idea of what this stretch of the Pawcatuck looks like, we head back to the pond.

Where it becomes the Pawcatuck

We continue following the bullrushes along the west and south shore until we get back to our start point. 

 

Smoke and Rain... and Bowling Dwarfs

Too restless to let a day go to waste, I put in from O' Sullivans Island.  It is, again, smokey.  For real, it is nearly twilight. Less brown than the previous days, I suspect that the murk is smoke and water particles, as it is humid as heck.  But, as happened on previous days, the murk is so thick that the temperature is cooler than one would expect.  There are a good number of people fishing from the banks.  Although the river is greatly improved over its industrial low point, I would never eat anything caught here.

I head downstream.  The tide is past low, but this far upriver, I won't notice the reverse flow, unless I want to really focus and pick at gnats. 

It is calm with an occasional light upstream blow that doesn't amount to anything.  I spot several Osprey, a few Great Blue Herons, an Egret and a couple Kingfishers.  It's as if most of the birds are grounde due to bad visibility.

I turn back at Wooster Island, the island that I can never remember the name of.  I usually remember it as Crescent Island, as it is crescent shaped.  Of course there is no Crescent Island in this area.  

I start hearing thunder when I make my turn.  It is quite distant, somewhere south and east of my location. It is rolling thunder.  I grew up in the upper midwest and mom would tell us the Dutch colonial folktales about thunder being the sound of dwarfs bowling in the sky.  This never made too much sense to me, even as a kid, because midwest thunder is a great booming explosion coming from a point source.  But, in New England, thunder usually travels across the sky.  Today it is starting southeast of me and rumbling west. The stereo effect is quite remarkable.  It is not at all difficult to imagine a damaged bowling ball rolling down a lumpy bowling lane.  Anyway, it is, so far, well south of me, and we have dwarfs in the clouds.

It starts sprinkling as I paddle back.  The wind comes up - a nice steady tailwind. The thunder continues for about a half hour, mostly traveling east-west well behind me. The sprinkle becomes a steady rain during the last mile, but it is warm enough that bothering to stop to don raingear would be pointless.  The fishermen have all run away by the time I take out.

Blue Sky and Bird Threesomes

Blue sky!  We didn't see any blue sky during the previous three days due to all the forest fire smoke that came our way.  The previous two days the smoke was down to ground level to the point of smelling it and almost tasting it.

I decide to make the run up to Lover's Leap.  I didn't feel like dealing with the tides, which are not timed ideally right now, so a fresh water route was in order.  I put in at the state launch in Bridgewater, on the Housatonic River.  It is calm, still under 70F, and sunny with a partly cloudy sky.  I can see a little haze in the trees if I have a long enough line of sight.  This could be the last of the smoke, or it might just be some humid air.  Anyway, the air is overwhelmingly improved over yesterday!

I spot a set of 3 Great Blue Herons.  This is the third time that I've seen a threesome in the last week or so.  It is unusual as Herons feed alone and usually keep a few hundred yards spacing.  The only time that I've seen them congregate is during mating in the spring.  But, this reminds of the threesomes of Oyster Catchers that I've seen in the last week.  I could be wrong, but I think that all of these occurrences might be recent fledglings with an adult bird, school in session for the young birds so to speak.  Birds that must fly in order to leave the nest, such as Eagles, Osprey, Herons, etc. have to be fairly close to full size for their first flight. And some, but not all, make that first flight in adult feather colors, or something close to it.  I saw this school session with Bald Eagles not too long ago.  Osprey will do this in a couple of weeks.

In the upper end of the paddle, I find a very large flock of Mallard Ducklings - 35-40 birds with a few adults.  This is quite unusual.  While Canada Geese often team together to create a flock of young birds, Mallards usually tend to their young as a family unit.  I spot and hear Bald Eagles in this same area and perhaps the Mallards have flocked together as a defense.  I have seen Coots do this where Eagles habituate.  Eagles hunting Coots is reminiscent of lions going after herd animals, isolating and focusing on an individual that might not have been paying attention.

When I get up to Lover's Leap, I do some exploring on the downriver side.  I'd read of an access point, and while I find it, I also find a "no water entry" sign courtesy of the state.   

I head back.  It is getting warm and shade comes less often with the sun high overhead.  Motorboat traffic is also building, although it is still well short of a bother... just an occasional bozo speeding by. It is still mostly fishermen. 

Smoke... It Smells Like Manitoba

It is, as it has been since Tuesday, smokey.  The forecast for the temperature is five degrees less than what was predicted yesterday, and I'm guessing that the amount of smoke in the air is reflecting that much sunlight, but I could be wrong.  Of course, the smoke is from forest fires in Ontario, Manitoba and Northern Minnesota.

I put in at Foote Bridge.  It is very quiet and there is no one around.  It is calm and the air smells of smoke.  If there is the slightest of air movement, the smoke smell becomes stronger, probably from soot particles being raised off of the foliage.

The tide is low at the bridge even though low tide was about 3 hours earlier at the mouth of this river.  The low water gives me a chance to stumble over the loose boulders under the bridge.  Then, back in the canoe, I pick my way through the shallows, adding only two or three small scratches to the hull.

A Great Egret waits out in the center of the Gravel Flats, which I fully expected to have to wade.  However, the tide has reached this spot and I coast easy with six to eight inches of water depth.  I spot a Yellow Legs, the first since they flew north to nest, about 2 months back.  They are in this river most of the year, overwintering if it is mild, and only leaving for their nesting grounds, which aren't too far north. When I look closely, I can see a barely perceptible upstream flood current.

 Spot a few Osprey, a Great Blue Heron, Snowy Egret, and a Yellow Crowned Night Heron.  There is a real flood current at the Clapboard Hill Bridge.  It is not bad, but it is there.

Another Yellow Legs at the Big Bends, plus a few Willets.   

Below the Railroad Bridge, I take the Sneak, then the Side Sneak, then up to the top of Bailey Creek. Out here in the open salt marsh, the taste of the forest fire smoke is less noticeable. A solo Glossy Ibis flies over. I head all the way down Bailey, then the Neck River.  The flood tide and a head wind that has developed make the last bit of the Neck a slow crawl, but I know there will be a reward.  The dock Osprey Nest has 2 adults and a chick - the chick has some adult coloring, but also still has some downy fluff.

Some guy seems to be practicing backing his boat trailer into salt water. No idea what he is doing as he doesn't have a boat, but he gets out of his truck to check his work several times.  I turn the point and head up the East River seeing no point in finding out what is going on.  The current is strongly in my favor and I zip along upriver.

The flood current dies off near the Big Bends, but with no wind, it is still easy paddling all the way back to Foote Bridge. 

 

 

To the Elf Forest... and Back

I paddled out of the North Cove at Essex with the tide falling, but still quite high.  It is quiet with a light wind out of the SW, a partly cloudy sky, and temperatures rising from the 70's to early 80's.  A Snowy Egret and a Great Egret are working the shoreline of the island that divides the cove from the main river.  Several Swans are in the cove, a couple hundred yards away but easily identifiable.

I follow the west shore upriver.  There is always at least one Osprey in sight all of the way up to Selden Neck.  Motorboat traffic is light, this being a Monday, and paddling this side of the river keeps the motorturds as far away as possible.

I cross the river once I am even with the lower entrance of the Selden channel.  

The wind is increasing.  It isn't a problem, just something to note as it will be a headwind on the return.

I decide not to paddle the length of the island, but instead head back into the Elf Forest. It is pretty quiet in there today, not much in the way of wildlife, but I always like paddling next to the mature forest that grows on the southern shoreline.  With a full canopy, the floor of that forest is shady and open with little brush.

I return coming down the eastern shore.  I prefer the cliffs and steep forest of this side of the river with the downside of having motorboat traffic to deal with.   Two of the motorturds blow by in large cabin cruisers at full speed and although it isn't a problem for me, it is rather rude.  Spot a mature and two immature Bald Eagles circling near the Ely House.  Probably school session for the immatures.

Cross the river, bouncing off of chop and old boat wakes and head into North Cove. 

East River in the Calm

I put in at Foote Bridge on a quiet and humid day with a weather forecast of possible rain and thunderstorms, although there was nothing threatening to the naked eye. 

The tide is falling, but still somewhere near the high point.  I pass under the bridge and then under the half-fallen tree that has formed an entryway arch for the last couple years.  A Goldfinch lands in a tree on the right bank.  At the first bend, a croaking from the phragmites produces a Green Heron that is being harassed by a Redwing Blackbird.  The Blackbird probably has a nest in there. The Heron flies to the next bend.

Goldfinch

It is calm as I cross the gravel flats.  I am still groggy from last night's restless sleep, but groggy seems to fit the conditions perfectly.

Green Heron

At the Big Bends, I spot a single Glossy Ibis feeding next to a Snowy Egret.  The Ibis flies over and past me as I fumble with my camera.  The Egret soon follows suit. 

I start seeing Willets as I near the railroad bridge.  When I get into the Sneak, the Willets are more interested in me.  I'm not sure if the young have fledged yet.  I'd expect more attention if the young were all still nest bound but even so, I regularly get a Willet flying a half circle around me alerting all the others that I am there.

From the Sneak, I head down Bailey Creek, then the Neck River, and back to the East River.  The Osprey still have their young in the nest, but the chicks do occasionally poke their heads out to see what's going on. I pass a kayaker who is still upriver a hundred yards in the Neck.  It is the only person in a boat that I will see.  I spot two sets of Oyster Catchers in the Neck river - three birds in each group.

Oyster Catchers

I have an opposing current and a headwind when I turn up the East River.  The headwind is more than worth the extra effort bringing some cool to a humid day.  The groggy feeling has passed, the day has turned out to be quite beautiful with blue sky and a few clouds.  I pass nonstop through a river-long herd of turtles, each one sticking the tip of it's head out of the water and disappearing in a blink when I get within ten yards or so.

My timing has been good and I avoid having to wade on my return trip.