Monday, March 18, 2024

Third Flood in Nine Months

The Hartford gauge for the Connecticut River is at 12 feet today, and it has been above that level for the last 10 days, peaking above 19 feet, which it held for 3 days during that time. The Mattabasset enters the Connecticut about 15 miles below the gauge, but as the Mattabesset simply backs up when the big river is high, that gauge is perfect for knowing what the conditions will be.

I put in at my usual spot. I came here today because the weather prediction is for some moderately strong wind, and this river is down in the bottoms well protected from the breeze. The water is high, of course. Normal gauge height would be 5-6 feet. At the put-in, the river is just at the top of the bank, which means that I can go a bit farther upstream than normal.

Today's high point
There is little current, in fact almost none until I near the train trestle. I have to pole a bit to get under the highway bridge, a spot where shallow fast water makes for a turn around, as those levels make everything above even more of a nuisance. Today, I make it to the log jam, which has grown in size with new logs being floated in on the high water. The return is not unusual except at the trestle I have a brief talk with a guy who looks like the ghost of John Muir. 

Below the put-in, I am able to leave the river with a good foot and a half or more of water flooding the forest. I cut through the trees to check on the hummingbird nest that I'd found during the last flood. But, it is gone, or I have misjudged how high up it is. Then, down to the new beaver lodge at the point, which is well flooded with just a pile of cattails and grasses on top. I've seen this before, and I think that the beaver might build a platform to sit on when the lodge is flooded out, and one can see that something has been sitting there. This is the third time in nine months that the lodges in this river have been fully flooded. I am beginning to wonder if they will tolerate too much more of that. Unlike last July's flood, which was a big one, this one and the December flood are something that shouldn't happen. The warm winter meant rainfall throughout the drainage (the Connecticut is more than 400 miles long). That rain should have been snow that would gradually melt its way into the river system. Most people would not tolerate their house being flooded fully three times in one year, except for the ones that are so rich that they no longer have to think. Anyway, I figure beaver to be somewhat smarter about such things than most humans and it will be interesting to see if they start moving to better habitat.

This is the top of a beaver bank burrow. The branches protect the vent hole in the top of the dwelling. The burrow is underground with two below water entrances. The burrow is flooded with about 18 inches of water above the ground where it was dug.


I spend the rest of the time crisscrossing the bottoms, weaving through the trees and going to places that I can't get to in normal conditions. I flush several Wood Ducks from a few different places, haven't seen one in a few months. I end up sighting about a half dozen Great Blue Herons as well. And the goats are out.




Saturday, March 16, 2024

Low Tide

 For the last two weeks, timing has been of the un-essence. I've been hanging a couple art exhibitions and every one of those days has been perfect for canoeing. And every day off has been windy, rainy, or both.

I set out from under the high bridge on the far side of town. It is sunny, maybe already 50F, with a light wind coming upriver. The tide is on its way out with about an hour more to go. It is an easy downriver paddle to the marsh.

That 10 inch diameter sawn log has been in place for about a hundred years.

 

With the tide almost all the way out, there is little point in going into the marsh other than Nell's Channel, which always has enough water to pass a canoe. It is a bird quiet, but I suspect that this has to do with the water level. I am well below the top of the banks, and I figure that a good number of Canada Geese are camped up there. 

At the bottom end of the channel, there is more going on. I hear several Yellow-Legs, although I can't put an eye on them. There are, as well, a number of Ducks and Gulls flying about. I finally pick out the predator, which is probably an Eagle, although I am too far off to get a firm ID. They all clear off before I get close.

The mystery Eagle

I come out into the main river channel and go as far as Milford Point. There is an Eagle chasing flying birds. My experience is that this is a rather odd Eagle behavior. It doesn't seem to take young Eagles too long to figure out that they can't chase down a Duck, and most everything else can outmaneuver it. But, this Eagle is determined and swoops and wheels about for almost ten minutes without a catch. That is another odd behavior, as I've seen that mature Eagles usually give up in a minute or so and retreat to prepare a fresh attack. When the Eagle does give up, it flies past. It is most likely an immature Bald Eagle, even with the un-Eagle like behavior.

I turn back, try to get into the middle channel, which is still too shallow, then head back up Nells with the tide slack and the wind at my back.

Wednesday, March 6, 2024

Sepia Day

 For the last week, whenever it has been nice out, I've been hanging an art show. My days off have coincided with the grimmest of rainy and windy weather. I finally got out.

I put in under the highway bridge. A car is parked in the middle of the state boat ramp, but oddballs often come down here to have a smoke or just stare at the river. I give it little mind and set out down river.

It is about 50F, no wind to speak of, and cloudy enough to almost be fog.

Halfway to the marsh, a woman is out walking her 3-year old. I greet them with, "Did you see that Eagle?" my arm pointing to a mature Bald Eagle perched in a tree top about 50 yards away from them. Now they are busy. Watching a Bald Eagle is far more fun than watching some guy paddle a canoe.


When I get to the marsh it is easy to see that the tide is half down. I head into my secret channel, the one that leads to the central phragmites patch. A pair of Black Ducks flush and cross my bow. This is no fault of my own however. Behind them is a Harrier, which gives up and arcs away back into the marsh. Flight is a Duck's safe place. Once they are airborne, there aren't too many birds that can catch them. The narrow exits from the channel are about 20 minutes too shallow, so I backtrack and then proceed clockwise around the marsh.

A pair of Scaups having a hissy fit
 
There are a lot of Canada Geese and Ducks today.  I have flushed about a 150 Geese by the time I get to Milford Point.  As I am crossing over to the point, I look up to see birds in the air all around. The one in the middle of that is a mature Bald Eagle. It turns tightly, touches down and lifts a duck with in its talons, and then lands again, no doubt at a nicer table with a better view. What I saw was part 2 and 3 of a typical duck hunt. Eagles often come from a distance with their wings set in a fast smooth glide - no extra movement to alert the target. Then they strike and stun the prey hard, fly past and wheel around to finish the kill.

There is another 150 at the point, and they all take wing together with no shortage of honking. I can hear them even after they are out of view, so they probably settled in the shallows on the ocean side of the point.

Wood hairbrush in situ

I head back up Nell's channel paddling close to the east bank. I find an old wood hairbrush handle protruding from the mud. It's down about 12-15 inches, and while it is undatable, it's probably been there for 50 years.  On the river-left bank just below the little island near the top of the channel, I find a milk bottle sticking out of the back side of a calved off block of bank. It is about 12 inches deep. The block of calved bank will melt away by summer, and before it fell off, that bottle was a foot own and two feet back in the mud. 

1 quart milk bottle, as found (next to the canoe)

Lamb Co. Milk bottle probably 1929-1947

I leave the marsh and head up river. That car is still parked in the middle of the ramp. The engine is idling and it has been there for at least 2 hours, Two people are inside, either sleeping or unconscious. I call the police, who ask me to wait. The fire department comes out and talks with the knuckleheads. Then I have a nice talk with the firemen, trade bird stories and stuff like that.

 

Tuesday, February 27, 2024

The Home Turf

I put in from the wildlife refuge "ramp" such as it is. It is foggy and near 40F with the temperature rising, as is the tide which has another hour and a quarter to go before peak. I flush about 75 Canada Geese while getting started. A harrier flies by with a smaller bird harassing it. With the backlighting, I can't ID the litle bird until it pulls up into a hover - Kingfisher.


I set out across the bottom of the marsh. Once I'm 50 yards from shore, the east wind starts pushing me. It is stronger than the weather prediction, and feels like something just shy of 15 mph. As I paddle the 1/2 mile over to the bottom of Nell's Channel, flocks of Geese and Black Ducks take wing. Sometimes, I'm close enough to blame, and sometimes they are way too far off for me to be the cause. In the fog, the best navigation landmark is the big speed limit sign at the entrance to the channel. It has a particularly shaggy immature Bald Eagle perching on it.

The sun has burned through by the time I get to the channel.

I head up the channel, figuring out soon that I want to cross over to the east side of the channel and paddle in the six foot strip of smoother water next to the bank. There's nowhere for me to hide from the crosswind, but the foot high bank does make a difference on my 16 foot canoe. 

I head up into Beaver Creek, which for once is almost devoid of any birds. I come back and take the shortcut over to Cat Island. The last 50 yards are a stiff push as the minimal water path is choked with a winter's worth of dead reeds and grasses. Likewise for the route around the back of the Island, which requires a bit of wading today. I flush a Great Blue Heron while I'm back there.

Monday, February 26, 2024

Pre-Spring Mattabasset

It rains some and there is a bit of wind at home, but by the time I put in, it is sunny and the low 30F temperature is quickly climbing.

I put in at the usual spot. The water level in the big river is down at normal levels, about 4-1/2 feet on the Hartford gauge. The tide is coming in, but the high water mark from the last high tide is still about 15 inches up. This area is tidal freshwater marsh and swamp.

At the T-bend, a Common Merganser speeds through just two feet off the water. Then, I flush a Great Blue Heron that was standing unseen behind a large rootball. Nearby is a possible beaver bank burrow - a suspiciously well organized pile of branches without the mud packing that a lodge has.

Point Lodge
The large marshes on either side of the river look like they have been mowed. In a more normal winter, a good snowfall would have crushed the cattails and grasses, and that hasn't happened this year. It has been cold enough for thin sheet ice to form - probably not much more than a 1/4 inch here. I suspect that the ice formed, and with the tidal movement and some wind, much of the reeds and cattails have been trapped in the ice and sheared off. When one really looks at it, the height is quite uniform across the marsh.

I spot two immature Bald Eagles when I get down to the collapsed Tepee Lodges. I watch them for about 15 minutes. They are soaring and doing the Eagle mating dance - swooping at each other high in the air. I think these two adolescents aren't old enough to nest, but maybe next year. Then, I continue on down to the Coginchaug River. The Big Lodge, which is only a 1/4 mile in, just past the second bend, looks like it has been refurbished since the flooding that occurred a couple months ago. Two floods, six months apart were kind of tough on the local beaver. 


New Coginchaug Lodge
 About a 1/3 of a mile up from the Big Lodge is a brand new one. The new lodge is well built and has a large quantity of winter food stashed outside. Another 1/3 of a mile and I get to a downed tree crossing the river, which is not worth messing with since I know that I will get more of that soon enough. I turn and head back out the way I came.


Wednesday, February 21, 2024

Up to the Ice Edge

There are two bird watchers at my put-in when I get there. We chat and they tell me that they've seen four Bald Eagles and a pair of Golden Eagles. Four Bald Eagles is pretty much normal for this time of year and this place, but the Golden Eagles, that's a bit of a rare sighting.  There's a Loon out in mid stream and as I set out, there is a flock of Common Mergansers some distance up river.

The temperature is in the low 30's with a minor wind of no consequence. The sky is mostly cloudy, but opens up more as I paddle.

I follow the east shore up. My plan was to head into Hamburg Cove if the ice allowed, as it freezes first, being calm and protected with little current. The bird guys told me that it was open, at least where you can see it from the road. I love this first half mile up to the cove. The forested hillside looms over as I paddle along a shoreline that is either sand and gravel beach or sloping bedrock glazed with a thin layer of ice.

Golden Eagle
As I cross over to the far side of the cove's entrance, a large Eagle flies into sight. I decide it must be the big female from the Lord Cove nest - I've seen enough Eagles to know that this is a large one. But, I get a better view and better light as it turns, and it is not the big female. In fact, it is not a Bald Eagle at all, being all brown toned and much too large to  be and immature. It is one of the Golden Eagles.  My trip is paid for, so to speak.

I do find thin sheet ice in the cove in large patches but it is mostly open water. So, I just make a few minor detours to the plan and continue.

Ice fills the cove shore to shore starting about a half mile before the Joshuatown Bridge. So, I head back out.

I head a little upstream before remembering that I haven't paddled the shoreline below the put-in for several months. So, I turn and head down. Not far below the put-in is a property where the owner has been doing habitat restoration. Before he bought it, at least some of the land was owned by a collective of people for use as a private shoreline campsite (this riverside land is often unbuildable). I see these operations here and there in Connecticut. What may have sounded like a good idea usually ends up looking like a meth lab. The members haul in lawn furniture and barbecues, and leave it, too lazy to put it away after a weekend of partying. Wind and weather takes its toll and pretty soon there are small piles of broken lawn furniture, beach toys and barbecue parts laying in the surrounding forest. Anyway, ever since the new guy took over, the junk is gone and native plants are replacing invasives. This time, I especially notice that the forest in the upstream end of the property has been brushed out with problem plants cleared to promote proper forest development.

I get downriver about a 1/2 hour and then head back.

Tuesday, February 20, 2024

Menunketesuck

I put in on the Menunketesuck River. It is a fine day, although I start a bit late because the morning chill was less than inspiring. By the time I start, it is 30F with a 8-10 mph wind, which puts a nip on any exposed skin, mostly because I'm not used to it as we've had a very mild winter. The sky is clear.

The tide is about a 1/3 down and dropping. The Menunketesuck is canoeable at any tide level. The only restriction is the railroad bridge, which can have a strong enough current to make it impassable during the brunt of the tide change. The silt banks are well exposed. The consistency of this stuff - well, imagine a kid marching his GI Joe through a soft cow pie. It's a soft boot sucking goo, if one needs to get out of the canoe.

The recent snow has flattened much of the spartina on either side of the river. There are ice lines on some of the rocks showing last nights high tide. I spot a couple Kingfishers, and a couple Hooded Mergansers.

Just after the second bend, an Eagle overflies me. It is a second year Eagle with a spatter of white feathers on the head and tail. As I get near Opera Singer Point, the Eagle flies by again, this time with a friend. It's the last I see of them.

I turn and head up the east arm. In high water, one can cut the numerous meanders, but today I get the full tour. When I run out of water and spin the canoe, I alarm a small flock of Canada Geese, which stay put as I paddle away. 

Back in the main river, I head down to the RR bridge, flush 2 dozen Ducks - probably Blacks and Mallards. Another 2 dozen take off from way over in the west, too far off for me to be the cause. The current at the bridge is not too bad today, but there's not enough below to make it worth the bother.

On the way back up, I take in the west arm, as far as the hidden pond entrance, which is impassable without a carry. It has the look of an old dam that someone built just to have a pond. With that, I head back.