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.