Always Something There

There is a reasonable wind coming down the river into my face as I set out from Pilgrim Landing.  But, I follow the east shore as close as possible, mixing it up with Connecticut's special blend of marsh and boulders, marsh and bedrock, and forest, bedrock and water, such that I cheat the wind and make good speed.

Lately, I have managed to get my wife or friends out in the canoe with me, and while that is always a pleasure, today I have my alone time, time which lets my mind have it's own direction.  I rarely write at all when I have a person in the bow, my time occupied by spotting wildlife and talking about the habits of those critters.  It takes a trip or two with another person before they fall under the control of the canoe.  I suppose we both end up in more or less the same state of mind at that point.  I definitely talk less.

Animal-wise, it starts out more or less as usual with some cormorants, gulls and egrets.  When I get into the broad and shallow Goose Bay, a few common terns arrive darting and bobbing on their long thin wings.  As I exit the bay a bald eagle overtakes me on my left and an osprey comes out of the trees with a very small fish in it's talons.

I paddle the cove in the counter-clockwise direction only because it occurs to me that I usually go in the opposite.  I explore a few of the dead-ends in the maze that I have not seen before, knowing that dead-ends are never really dead-ends.  There is always something there.