Up to Fowler Island

I set out from under the big highway, a close-to-home launch, for a short trip. There is a line at the launch - pickup trucks and trailers, because it takes a big truck to pull a jetski? I shoulder the canoe and walk past the line and put in on the backside of the dock. I'm gone before they notice I am there.

The tide has just passed high and there is a small downstream current. I cross the river, weaving through the bridge abutments and rounding the wood cribbing that protects the railroad drawbridge. I head into the four islands, all of the channels well flooded and easy paddling. The innermost channels are scratchy at low tide and sometimes not passable. There's not much for birds and I suppose that that has something to do with the high grass vegetation - spartina and phragmites are good for blocking one's line of sight. I see a few overhead Osprey, one mature Bald Eagle flies close by, and a few Ducks. As I reach the top of the inner two islands, I spot a pair of Cormorants that appear to have some fish cornered. A couple fish splash at the surface and one cormorant dives. It comes up with a 4 or 5 inch long fish. It flips it in the air, grabs it by the head, and swallows it head first, all in about 3 seconds. It's a neat trick.

The narrow channel between Peacock and Carting Islands

I head up, crossing the river at Peck's Mill, which is no where to be seen anymore, of course. Then up and around Fowler Island. By this time, the tidal ebb is moving along pretty good. As I turn the upper tip of the island, my speed more than doubles even though I have a headwind, which feels great on a sunny 85 degree day. I cross back over at Peck's and return through the islands. When I take out, there is still a line of trailer boaters.

Housatonic Two

I've never quite figured out this section of the river. It is a reservoir, but it is an old one, the dam holding it back being built in the 1870. It was primarily a diversion dam with canals running water to riverside mills, plus a rather small power house. Electrical generators were being invented at about the same time, so I imagine that direct water power was being used with generators being added as they became available. Had the dam been built a couple decades later, with electrical power more common, I can imagine that they would have built a much taller dam a couple miles upstream.

The reservoir is just short of 6 miles long and for most of the length, about 300 to 400 feet wide, and due to waterside development and the downstream dam, the water level can only be allowed a few feet of fluctuation. At the upper end is the 1917 Stevenson Dam, which was built for hydroelectric power. It has a substantial power house and lacks any riverside mill buildings.

I put in at the Eagle Scout access, about halfway up the reservoir. The water is high when I start out, but not unusually so. There is almost no current. And that is the hard part to figure ahead of time. This narrow reservoir runs a current quite often. It can be almost nothing, or it can turn a canoe trip into an arm breaker. (A beneficial side effect of this current is that this reservoir stays cleaner, in that it avoids the summer algae bloom yuck of the upstream Lake Zoar.) Part of the formula is how much rain we've had with the amount of power generation making up the balance. I head upriver into the best parts of this section. The current slowly increase as I progress.

Just above the shelf

The first challenge is "the shelf". Where the river makes a S-turn, there is a geologic shelf that runs bank to bank. None of this is exposed other than you can see a bit of a pitch to the river and an obvious increase in current. It takes me about 10 minutes to make it up over the shelf, the first  5 minutes is just hard paddling into the current to gain 50 yards, and the last 5 is some strategic hunting of slow water for the next 200 yards. Then, by ferrying to the river right side, I take advantage of the slow water downstream of the next bend.

The next challenge is a short class 1 rapid. When the water level is right, one can ascend this by hopping the eddies that from behind the many boulders. Today, the water is just a bit too high and the rapids is mostly washed out. I make about 75 yards by carefully studying the water and finding a few hard to see eddies. I can see the dam, but the next 200 yards is just not going to happen. I peel out into the current and make my way back.

From O'Sullivan's

I put in from O's Sullivan's Island, which is near the upper end of the lowest section of the Housatonic. A half mile upstream, a 1870's dam marks the end of the tidal river. I haven't been in this part of the river too often, mostly because the put in was inaccessible, partly due to a never ending construction project as well as a shut down for the government to check for toxic chemicals from this formerly industrial zone. The island sits in the confluence of the Naugatuck and Housatonic Rivers, with three old mill towns, each occupying its own section of that "Y" - Shelton, Derby and Ansonia, although I am hard set to figure out what the order is.

The tide is still low when I start. There is no wind, although if there was it would be coming from the North. So, it is an easy and calm paddle down river with no wind and little current to disturb the water's surface.

By staying to river right, the east side, I paddle in cool shade. With the low water, I keep an eye peeled for remnants of the past industrial days. Great Blue Herons are the dominant bird in this calm upper section.

It's 2 miles down to the first small marina. The marina pretty much marks the end of the upper section. For whatever reason, few motorboats come above the marina, even though the river is quite navigable. I suppose most of the boat drivers set their eyes toward the sound. It is still early enough that few ships of the Mai Tai Navy have set sail.

I spot a mature Bald Eagle just about Island #7 (Wooster).  There are 2 immature Eagles and another adult in the inner channel of the island. I'm no expert, but it looks like a hunting lesson. Below the island a short ways, I spot another mature Eagle. 

I continue on to the bottom of Island #6. By this time, I notice the flood current, which is stronger than I expect given that I am about 10 miles inland. As a bonus, the wind, as predicted, has shifted to come out of the South. I turn and head back with current and wind at my back. The trip ends up being a ten miler.

Lord Cove Grand Tour

It would have been a perfect day to put in at Norwich, the high water making it possible to get up through the rocky shallows to the first dam, maybe. But, curiosity won out and I stopped at the bottom of Lord Cove - curious about how the cove fared with the flood waters of last month. I put in at Pilgrim's Landing. The weather is near perfect, again, with a gentle south breeze and temperatures in the 70's.

I go wide around Goose Island, a short stretch in the main river before returning to the cove. The light chop in the river is more than made up for by the tidal flood current and a quartering tailwind. I find a family of Mute Swans as I enter Goose Bay. They've done well, with five healthy gray cygnets in tow.

As for wildlife, it is a very quiet day - just a few Osprey, a couple Great Blue Herons, a Kingfisher, and frequent calls of well hidden Marsh Wrens. I find a muskrat lodge hidden in the cattails and see a few Marsh Wren nests, that's about it.

I paddle the "grand tour", taking in some side trips that are possible, or at least more enjoyable, with the extra water of a very high tide. I head around the cove in a clockwise direction. I do a circle through Coult's Hole, an odd circular open pond in the middle of the marsh. I remembered it having a couple entrances, but it seems to only have one during the summer. The eagle nest in the farthest arm is unoccupied, as it should be, the Eaglets off learning to hunt.

Swamp Rose Mallow

Swamp Rose Mallow - a type of Hibiscus, is blooming all throughout the marsh. The cattails are also doing well and it looks like the wild rice has escaped the fate of the flooded out crop up in Salmon Cove. I find a few Tiger Lilys near my take out - quite pretty, but not native, of course.

D comes across the street while I'm getting out. He's the publisher of an excellent magazine, "Estuary". He gave me a copy in the spring, and this time I get the summer issue. We have a good chat and find out that we have more in common than we would have expected.

A Field Day for Wildlife

It was a snap decision, but I was overdue for a trip on the Menunketesuck River, and while the river is a little short on paddling, it can be long on wildlife, and particularly birds that I normally don't get to see.

From the put-in the river gently winds through a spartina marsh backed by a dense hardwood forest, with the marsh getting much wider as the river descends. Today must be ideal for crabbing as three small motorboats have been moving up and down the main river fishing for 3rd rate crustaceans. The river rule, "first one in sees the most wildlife" is in play and there is little to see, at first.

Glossy Ibises

Fortunately, the boats are staying in the main channel. There are two long dead end arms on either side. And, just as I reach the turn into the river left arm, a mature Bald Eagle sweeps in following the edge of the forest, definitely in hunting mode. The Eagle flushes a mix of birds from a panne below Opera Singer Point. It's 15 Glossy Ibises, 3 Snowy Egrets and a single mature Little Blue Heron. Once the Eagle is gone, most of them settle back into the panne. I head up and back on this tightly meandering arm, being able to watch those birds for much of the time.

Little Blue Herons

I head down and through the railroad bridge. The tide is near high and there is still a mild flood current. At full current, it is challenging to beat the current under this bridge. From there, I head back up.

Three adult Little Blue Herons with white fledgling

I take a shortcut, a narrow straight man made cut from the mosquito drainage days, into the river right arm. I'd seen several dark birds (either Glossy Ibises or Little Blue Herons) flush as that Eagle flew through this area - still hunting. There, at one of the bends, I add half a dozen Little Blue Herons to the count. One of them is a second year bird morphing from white to blue. Fledgling Little Blue Herons are white and look quite a bit like a Snowy Egret. When they change to blue, they have a mottled feathering of blue, white and gray. 

Second year Little Blue Heron changing from white to blue

I paddle to a small pond at the end of this arm and return via the main channel of the arm, adding another half dozen adult Little Blue Herons and two white fledglings, and 5 Glossy Ibises. 

Opera Singer Point at the trees

All told, I figure that I saw about 20 Little Blue Herons, about 20 Glossy Ibises, 5 Willets, a Yellow Legs, and a Blad Eagle.

The Doubling of Night Herons Season

I set out with S to paddle the big marsh and do some bird watching. Night Herons from a nearby rookery have fledged and they are numerous in the big marsh, which is a prime feeding spot for them. S has a cracked bone in her hand, which limits her paddling. So, we avoid the more vigorous tidal paddling by putting in directly in the marsh at the Wildlife Refuge launch.Then, we head out into the maze of small channels in the center of the marsh.

We flush ten Night Herons at the central phragmites patch - 5 Black Crowns and the rest either Yellow Crowns or juveniles (juvenile Black Crowns and Yellow Crowns require a close look to differentiate).

The weather is great, 80-ish with sun and a bit of breeze. Out towards Nell's channel, we spot 3 or 4 Common Terns and a couple Least Terns, an we continue to flush Night Herons.

Up at the top of the marsh, we headed back into Beaver Creek. We sight about a dozen Night herons as we head in. They are perching in the trees, waiting for the better feeding when the tide drops, I suppose. 

From there, we head back to the start passing nine Great Egrets, all in the trees, and flushing more night Herons.

Damage Control 2

It is an exceptional summer day with the temperature back down to about 80F, low humidity, and partly cloudy skies.

I put in at the bottom of Salmon Cove where it meets the Connecticut River. There are a few beaver lodges in this area and I wanted to see how the recent floods effected them. Six days ago, I was in the Mattabesset, which is several miles up the Connecticut River. The Mattabesset had backed up during the high water, so much so in fact, that it topped all of the beaver lodges in that section. The Mattabesset beaver colonies had all abandoned their lodges.

Today, I find the pickerel weed above the water surface, so although the water is still high, it is down to a somewhat "normal" high level. I paddle up about a 1/3 of a mile and pull in to the weeds where I know the lowest lodge to be. The silty residue on the vegetation suggests that the flood waters were about four feet higher than today's water level. 

The lodge is the brushy mound just right of the canoe's bow. It is about 30 feet away.

This first lodge has been significantly enlarged since I last saw it, to the point of being one of the more massive lodges that I have ever seen. Beaver sometimes enlarge their lodges. I once observed a familiar lodge that more than doubled in height and diameter in little more than ten days. On that occasion, I believe this was due to the adult pair starting a family. Lodges are built by piling sticks and mud and then hollowing out the living spaces from below. Lodges have two submerged entrances leading to a wet level, which connects to a dry level. There is a hidden vent hole in the top. Looking at the enlarged size of this first lodge, I assume that the living levels may have partially flooded, and instead of abandoning the lodge, the beaver added material to the outside and then hollowed out new living areas. Anyway, the Salmon Cove beaver were not flooded completely out of their lodges, but were able to adapt to the flood levels.

With the "science" done, I paddle off. There is a mature Bald Eagle hanging around the lower cove, plus a couple of Osprey. I head up the cove, then up the Salmon River as far as the Leesville Dam, which has a good amount of water coming over the top.

Where the Pine Brook wild rice should be

On the way back, I turn up Pine Brook. The bottom of the brook, where it meets the river, is about a hundred yards wide and normally has a large and dense stand of wild rice. I don't know much about the growth of wild rice, but apparently the flood waters came at the wrong time and this years crop of wild rice is nowhere to be seen. In fact, the water depth is about a foot and the bottom is bare sand and gravel.

The Moodus

The final side trip is the Moodus River. For the first time in about three years, I can ascend all the way up to Johnsonville. The high water made it possible to pass the blocking deadfalls. 

Fledling Common Mergansers in the Moodus