Draw Down Day

I get to Pond Brook and find the water down about six feet.  Surprise... it's reservoir draw down so that the dam can be inspected. I can't reach water that is deep enough to float the canoe without going knee deep in mud. I get back in the car and head upstream a mile to the bigger launch that the motorboats use. 

Three motor boats are at the ramp, their owners struggling to get them out of the water. The ramp is greasy with old algae growth. Their tires spin as they try to haul up the slope. I promptly slip on the greasy surface and get pile driven into the ground by the canoe on my shoulders.  I get out of it with a bang on the knee and a fresh new coat of algae on my pants.  One of the guys asks if I'm okay and I answer, "Yes," but I'm thinking, "I'll let you know after I go canoeing for a few hours."

It is a fine day with the temperature already at 70F, no wind, and nothing but a high haze of clouds between here and the sun. I head upstream.

Drown down exposes six feet of shoreline height that is rarely seen. It is all rocks - some bedrock, and a lot of boulders and cobbles that most likely come from the same source. The edge of the forest floor shows that the soil is not much more than 12 or 18 inches thick before it begins to mingle with the underlying rocks. The reservoir, of course, washed the soil away from the exposed shoreline, which I imagine settled fifty feet below in the old river course. There are still quite a few stumps on shore from when they cleared the forest before flooding the area in the mid 1950's.  I paddle close to shore just in case something interesting is exposed. However, I don't expect anything of significance as this modern shoreline was just a line of elevation high in the forest above the river, which is where any people would have chosen to live.

The other thing that the draw down exposes is the infestation of zebra mussels. The broken shells litter the bottom, and many of the boulders and drift logs are coated with them. They are harmful non-native invasives, and inedible. They are why I make my partners wear shoes when we canoe here.

I paddle upstream to the Poison Ivy Island.  From here, it is about an hour and a half round trip to Lovers Leap, which I would like to see at draw down. But, my late start and my tumble at the start makes this, far enough. On the way back, I hear a mammal calling from the bank up ahead. I can't place it, but finally I spot the critter. A racoon. I recall that sound from a time when, one night,  we had a family of them climbing in the tree outside of a our bedroom window.  A bit farther on, a mature Bald Eagle passes me and takes a perch on the far side of the river. Add sixty Mallards, two dozen Canada Geese, a Great Blue Heron, and a few Kingfishers.

I get back to the put-in after three hours. I saw not one other boat the entire time.

It is Definitely Autumn

I put in under the highway bridge on the big river. The tide is on its way out and the current is going gang busters downstream, so my thoughts of heading up to the quad islands get shoved aside. I head down, following the shoreline with a bit of NW wind at my back quarter. It is sunny, the light is low, and the temperature in the 50's. The water is cool, but not yet cold.

When you get to the fork in the marsh, take it.

I take the side entrance to Nell's Channel, but steer clear of Nell's, taking the east of Nell's Channel Channel, so to speak. I expected no other paddlers, but it must not be hunting season either, because no one is in the marsh. I flush some migratory Canada Geese, which in turn flush a couple dozen Black Ducks from someplace out there. As I get up near the top of the channel, I spot a lone Duck tucked in under the edge of the spartina. Lone Ducks are a bit strange and the last time I saw one it turned out to be a Ruddy Duck.  This turns out to not be a Duck, but a Coot. I don't see Coots all that often.

I circle around to the east and head back out. Of note, this might be the first day in a long time where I did not see a Night Heron. While most of them are south, a small few of them will winter over.

I cross the river at the lowest drawbridge using the current and eddies to move sideways. It's not tricky water or anything like that, but I enjoy seeing how little effort I can put in to do the ferry. I sneak up the shoreline behind the marina, marveling at the awesomely poor condition of the wooden dock platform. No way I would drive any machinery on that. Then, I recross the river at the train drawbridge. There is still a 3 knot current coming down.  

Saw just 3 Great Egrets - one in the marsh, the other two on the return upriver. One Great Blue Heron, two Kingfishers.

Autumn Leaf Time

Yesterday's winds are a thing of the past, and it is, once again, too nice to not be out. 

I put in at Indian Well State Park, and head down river to just above the dam. There is a sign at the put-in telling everyone that it is 3 miles to the dam. This means I can cruise at 6 mph without cracking a sweat...not. I wonder when they will fix that sign, as it is precisely 1.56 miles to the dam, and when one turns around, they can see the park's boat launch.

I cross the river to avoid a fisherman working the shaded west shoreline. A good sized mature Bald Eagle takes off from in front of me and crosses the river to a shaded perch about 75 yards downstream of the fisherman.  

I turn at the dam and head upriver as far as the Eagle Scout put-in, and then return. The leaves are just tilting over to spectacular with the maples going bright yellow. It won't be the best leaf year that I've seen here, but it will be a good one.

Is this Indian Summer?

I was busy in the morning, but the day is so gorgeous that it would be crime of nature to not go canoeing.

I put in on the East River, at the old stage crossing, where I usually start. The tide is near low, but coming in. Two bends down, I cross the Gravel Flats, already with a foot of water to glide through. I flush seven Black Ducks from just below the Flats.

It seems a quiet day with little in the way of wildlife. I add 3 Great Blue Herons to my sightings while in the freshwater marsh above Clapboard Hill Road.

Once below the railroad bridge, I find enough water to use the Sneak, cutting through to Bailey Creek, taking that down to the East River. The tide is still coming in, so I have a gentle current to ride upstream. Just past Cedar Island, I take another cut back over to the Sneak, then up and back into the East River.

At the lowest of the Big Bends, a large Bald Eagle takes off from a nearby tree. It scatters a half dozen nearby Yellow Legs, but the Eagle isn't concerned with them, knowing that the Yellow Legs know the Eagle is there. Eagles prefer to pounce on unsuspecting prey. Ducks and other small birds can outmaneuver an Eagle. Anyway, the Eagle flies low across the marsh, and I lose sight of it for a few seconds. Then I spot it circling near the 2nd and last of the Big Bends. When it took off from the tree, it had something in sight that was some 500 yards away. The last I see of the Eagle, it is flying south away from the river.

I find some resident Geese at the 2nd Bend.  Bald Eagles don't go after Canada Geese. Although they would make a good meal, the flapping wing of a frightened Goose is enough to break an Eagle's wing, which is a fatal injury for a bird of prey.

I continue on, just enjoying the day.

The Boatwreck Reach of the Connecticut

I put in on the Connecticut River at Cromwell. The section upriver from here is probably overlooked by most canoeists. The river is wide and I imagine that people might think it to be a bit featureless. However, most of the shoreline is forested or backed with swampland, and housing is rather sparse. Last time I was here, the wind was howling down river and the day was not much short of brutal. Today, it is already near 70F, with clear skies and calm air.

The river is about as low as I've seen it with the Hartford gauge bouncing somewhere around 2 feet. 4 Feet is a more normal level for this time of year. I get into the canoe with just a little ankle deep mud bogging.

20 minutes upriver, I spot two dark figures high in a riverside tree. I zoom in with my camera and find them to be a pair of mature Bald Eagles. If they weren't busy looking at something else, they might have seen me putting the canoe in the water, Eagle vision being many times better than human eyes. I pass directly under without disturbing them, but I do flush a couple of Kingfishers from the brush below.

I continue on until I can see the Rocky Hill Ferry, about 2 hours out. Then I cross over and follow the other side of the river back, spotting two more Bald Eagles at that point. 

There is some heavy rustling in the shoreline brush. At this time of year, with dry leaves on the ground, a squirrel makes as much noise as a running deer. You just have to look.  A Red Tail Hawk wrestles its way out of the brush and takes a close perch. Then a second Hawk, with a bit more effort, comes out of the brush. 

About halfway back, a beaver dashes across the nearby beach. I have never seen a beaver move that fast. Usually, I spot them just as they dive off a bank into the water. This one was sunning on the beach about 6 feet back fro the water. It sprints at amazing speed and makes a full-on Superman dive out into the river. With my eyes, I follow the bubble trail, air being squeezed from the fur, and then pull up to wait. More often than not, a beaver will surface to check out whatever it was running from. They have poor eyesight, so they will swim back and forth and try to pick up a scent. This one has had enough of me and doesn't show. I head over to check out the tracks. The tail drag is clear, but it is the final hind feet prints that are the best. They're not deep enough to bother casting (I have my plaster with me), but it is cool to see how deeply the beaver dug in its toes to make its final spring out into the water.

Beaver hind footprint

 

The wind has come up, a head wind at that. I put my head down and continue.

The First Seconds

The first seconds. I've probably never mentioned the first few seconds. I set the canoe down in the water, then in goes my backpack, my camera box, and my spare paddle. These aren't the first few seconds. The river bank above the small single lane bridge is shaded, the trees still holding onto most of their leaves. No one else is around.

I step into the canoe, kneeling with my butt on the edge of the seat. A moment of calm comes over me. Whatever I was thinking about, whatever was in the back of my mind behind those thoughts, it disappears. There is no future, there is no past, there is nothing beyond what is in front of me. I suppose this to be what someone who is spiritually inclined might feel when they enter a temple or a cathedral. I hope that everyone can find a place that washes them like this. I don't know how else to describe it.

The tide is coming in. Even some four miles from the sea, the tide has reversed the normal current. It is going to be a very high tide, something near a foot above normal. At the first bend, the tide line can be seen on the shoreline brush, still two feet to go. I pass over the Gravel Flats without any hint that they are below. Two Kingfishers.

The cattails yield at the first bridge. The water below the bridge is brackish. Still three miles from the sea, I would not expect it to be too salty, but it must be just enough that the cattails can't make it. Spot a Harrier, but then it flies up high, not acting like a Harrier, and probably some other medium sized Hawk.

Eight Yellow Legs on the downstream point of the island in the middle of the Big Bends.

An immature Little Blue Heron standing on the junk docks. It is a surprise and seems late for the year. I wonder if it is a Snowy Egret with dirty feet, also a bit late for the year. I check my out of focus photo later - it is definitely a Little Blue Heron.

Below the railroad bridge, I do not need to follow the river or channels. I take the side sneak over to Bailey Creek, flushing sixty Ducks. About ten are Mallards, the rest being Black Ducks. This corner of the marsh is a no hunting zone, being too close to a house and the railroad tracks. Generations of Black Ducks seem to have figured this out. I will spot more Black Ducks as I go through the marsh, but it will be in twos and threes, not dozens.

I leave Bailey Creek, and cut west across the marsh, passing Cedar Island, crossing the East River, and taking an inlet until I leave that, paddling across the spartina flats to the Guilford boat launch. When I pass over submerged pannes, I note that there are dozens of tiny crabs scurrying away fro the shadow of the canoe. I think they are fiddler crabs. I am more used to seeing them on the banks, where they retreat into their burrows.

I get back into the East River at the boat launch. The current is still zippy, easily 3 mph upstream. Soon enough, I leave the river again and head cross country back to Bailey Creek, then through the Sneak, and upriver. The current doesn't go slack until I've passed Clapboard Hill Bridge.

 

 

Stretching the Eyes

In the morning, I was busy in my studio, but by noon it was time to stretch the eyes. I pulled in at the usual launch site, under the highway bridge on the far side of town. Today is one of very high tides, and even though it is just a short hour past the peak, the ebb current is already speeding by. On top of that is a north wind, and the prospect of returning to this spot against the current and into a 15 mph wind is... not preferred. I head down to the Wildlife Refuge launch site instead.

This launch site puts me directly into the marsh and I use it less often mainly because the extra two miles of river travel give me more time in the water. With the tide dropping, I have something like three hours to mess around. After that, getting out will involve some mud slogging. It is plenty of time to do some exploring.

I head up to try the back side passage around Cat Island. You won't find Cat Island listed on any map. I got the name from a friend who grew up in the area, and I am pretty sure that the name doesn't go too far beyond him and the childhood friends that explored the island. Today, I can't make the passage. The spartina has been growing thicker with each year, and it's just too dense to get through, at least until winter.

I head out, take one of my known sneaks into the middle of the marsh, head down to bottom, check the depth at my put-in... I have a good hour left to wander, head into another sneak and come back around to call it a day. I didn't see many birds today. With the high water, the best feeding is away from the channels. I saw a Harrier, 2 Kingfishers, 4 Swans, 1 Canada Goose, 1 juvenile Night Heron, a few Ducks and a few Cormorants.

Looking for Change

It is another windy day...such is autumn.  I went up above the Shelton Dam, putting in at the Eagle Scout launch. With the wind is out of the north at 15 mph with gusts as high as 25 mph, this narrow valley of the river will be about as good as it gets, with a lot of the smaller rivers and creeks running pretty shallow. I have not been in here since the flash floods that blew out a part of the access route, although that was above the launch site.

The launch site is on a small creek that only has enough water to float a canoe for the last 50 yards. There is a strong, low autumn sun, and as I settle into the canoe, it causes the sand on the bottom of the creek to shine golden. I paddle out through a floating carpet of orange and yellow leaves. My outlook on the day soars.

I head upriver into the wind.  I've been wanting to check this section of the river to see the effect of the floods. It is a bit of a grind into the wind, but only for short spells. Just as often, the forested hillside absorbs the breeze and I end up moving along quite well. 
The first sign of the floods is near the Shelf, a bank to bank cobble bar that I am more than familiar with. The current is accelerated as it passes over the Shelf, and in high water it can be impossible to get up past it. A large pile of drift wood and whole trees is on the river left bank. It is a good ten feet high, and there is a large tree, roots and all, in the yard in front of the nearest house.

I continue up noting a good number of trees that washed down and were caught by the edge of the forest. It looks like the water in this narrow section might have been six or eight feet higher, and it would certainly have been a torrent.

The rapids section comes next. This is a minor class 1 (if that) rapids of maybe 200 yards in length. From shore it would look the same as it always has, but from the canoe it is different. The water has fewer eddies or pillows, the area around the boulders that cause the disturbances being filled in with gravels and sand, at least for the short term. A hundred yards into that and I can see the cause. There is a new metal bridge, which looks temporary to me, on RT 34. A ravine that I never before noticed flooded and blew the entire road away leaving piles of sand with large fragments of asphalt next to the river. A shadow overtakes me, and I look up and watch a Bald Eagle head upriver to a perch. There is a second Eagle nearby.

Short Day in the Wind

I put in on what I call, Housatonic 3. It is the stretch of river above the second dam, with the tidal section being Housatonic 1. Also known as Lake Zoar, the touristy paddling websites will tell you that it is one of the better places to go canoeing. It is not. While it does have some forest preserve shoreline, it does not make up for the rather junky shoreline development that most likely started as cabins fifty or sixty years ago, each of which seems to have a beat up dock and a pile of neglected small boats, lawn furniture and float toys. I tolerate this a couple times of year, just to check out an interesting tributary or some of the coves.

Today, the main interest was to check out the shoreline for signs of the flash floods that occurred a month or so ago. I put in at the state boat ramp, planning to head down to Kettletown State Park. I sometimes launch at the park, but it is closed indefinitely as the road leading to the park was blown away during the floods, as was Route 34, which I normally use to reach this area and the next river section above.

It is a particularly fine day to be outside, but it might not be so good for canoeing as it is quite windy. I cross the river to the shelter of the far shore. The wind is no big deal up close to the forested hillside. I paddle close by dozens of junk docks. As I pass the last dock, a Great Blue Heron flushes from nearby. When I get down to Kettletown, I turn out to cross the river. Then, the wind hits me. The waves are no problem, the wind is just skittering across the surface at something close to 20 mph. It is an upwind paddle to get back, and I decide to get going in that direction just in case the wind gets worse.

About half of the way back is a bit of a claw, the rest being unusually protected. Across from my start, I assess the situation again. I have something I'd like to check upriver, but it is a mile of straight into the wind to do it. Time to call it a day. A pair of Red Tail Hawks fly over as I turn towards the put-in.

Mattebasset with E

My artist friend, E, joined me today. We met a couple years ago and I don't think we've seen each other more than one time since. I also had some artwork to return to her, and it turns out that I have paddle past her house before.

We put in on the Coginchaug. It is a sunny day, but autumn is here and the temperature will hit a high of 60F. There is also a stiff wind, maybe a dozen mph or so, but it is coming down the Mattebasset, so it will make for an easy return. The water level is low right now, as we've had little rain in the Connecticut River watershed. As I tell E, the Connecticut River rules as far as the water levels in the Cogichaug and Mattebasset. If the Connecticut is high, these two rivers just back up, sometimes to the point that you can leave the river and paddle through the bottom land forest.

The Coginchaug is just to shallow right now for an upstream trip of any length, so we head down. We're going to talk a lot, about a lot of different stuff. I've been taking new art friends canoeing for several years, precisely because being in a canoe together, and working as a team, seems to make the conversation flow. Besides the art-stuff and what-your-background-is-stuff, I'll give E a good introduction to the marsh, as this is my kind of turf.

The Big Lodge seems to be in use. The beaver were flooded out by repeated floods last year, and while the lodge is a little ramshackle on the outside, there is a fresh trail leading up the side of the lodge, a sign that the beaver have been adding material.

We spot the first Great Blue Heron, of maybe a dozen that we see on the trip.

We turn up the Mattebasset when we get there and fight the wind through the open area known as the Great Meadow, to people that look at old maps. There is a bank burrow just as we get to the trees. I'd seen this before, but couldn't be sure if it was in use. I explain why and how the burrow was made by the beaver, and how to spot one - they look like a pile of dumped tree prunings. This one is being mud fortified with a defensive branch pile in the water, which should be protecting an entrance tunnel that is exposed by the low water.

We continue up the wooded section of the river. The Point Lodge is in use. This lodge was built after the flooding and it has grown some in size. There are fresh clipped branches with green leaves in the food stash next to the lodge.

We continue up to the higher put-in by the Dunkin Donuts. With that, we turn around and get the wind at our back.  More Herons, one Flicker, one Kingfisher, a female Wood Duck, a pretty nice trip.

As a bonus I get treated to an excellent grilled cheese sandwich.

The Unexpected

The intention was to visit the main entrance channel leading into the center of Nell's Island. I made it through the maze of pannes and channels on my last trip, and noticed that the entrance channels had cut banks due to fairly strong tidal currents. I am using old glass bottles as a dating method for estimating the rate of soil deposition in the marsh, and cut banks are ideal as I can measure the depth of the bound bottle.

The tide has been coming in for about an hour. It is sunny, 60F, with a light west wind. The lower angle of the sun at this time of year makes the Egrets look even more spectacular than usual.

But, canoes are not the ideal vessel for getting things to go as planned. Not far into my paddle down Nell's Channel, I begin finding new specimens. 

Specimen 17
100 yards down Nell's Chan. River-left, 15 inches deep
Brown glass crown top beer bottle

Specimen 18
Half way down upper island in Nell's Chan. River-left (west side of island), 18 inches deep, clear glass screw top Owens-Illinois bottle, possibly pharmaceutical - reminds me of a big vitamin bottle

Specimen 18

Specimen 19
50 Yards down from #18 and same side of island, 18 inches deep, found in a near vertical orientation (this is unusual) clear glass Owens-Illinois crown top soda bottle

Specimen 20
River-right on Nell's Island where the channel bends west. Glass Snapple bottle, 3 inches deep.

There are a dozen or so Great Egrets and a couple Snowy Egrets in this area. Fish striking the surface shows that there might be a schooling of smaller fish. I turn up the main interior entrance channel to Nell's Island. I come across a large sandpiper type bird, larger than a Willet, and rather tame in that it tolerates me within a couple canoe lengths. It is most definitely an unexpected sighting.

Juvenile Hudsonian Godwit

Specimen 21
Nell's main interior entrance channel, about 200 yards in, river-right, 14 inches deep, plastic 6-pack ring

Specimen 22
Nell's main interior channel, about 50 yards in, river-left, 7 inches deep, fragments of a glass Coca-Cola bottle

I exit Nell's Island and head back upriver, taking the side entry channel, as I usually do.

Specimen 23
Nell's Side channel entrance, river-right, 6 inches deep, another plastic 6-pack ring, with one ring torn.

Specimen 24
River-right, triangle cut-off at the top of the marsh, estimated 5 inches deep in a partially slumped bank, green glass crown top soda bottle

The Nell's Island Maze

I headed into the Wheeler Marsh. I'm making a map and needed a better idea of where the cut banks are and where the shoreline tends toward mudflat. I put in about 2 hours before high tide on a sunny day with a fresh breeze coming downriver. 

When I reach the marsh, I realize that this isn't the best time to be assessing the banks, as they are already mostly submerged.

I head up my inner sneak to the Central Phragmites patsh, finding a drift log blocking the last fifty yards. It is not really a drift log, it just looks like one. There is a rusty eyebolt and hook on the back side of the log, and it would be a pretty rare occurrence for a log to get where it is. Hunting season is just starting and I am pretty sure that this is a "road block" from the fish and game people. This location is a popular site for the Night Herons, and the log is probably a clever way to prevent someone from setting up a hunting blind on Night Heron turf. 

Mylar balloon stabathon...before and after

 

Night Herons are definitely the most numerous bird today, and i will spot a total of about fifty. Most are young, but there are also some adults - both Yellow Crowns and Black Crowns. 

I head out and continue around the marsh. I find a pair of Goose hunters in the lower marsh. They are wading about for some unknown reason, and figuring out that they don't want to wade in the Wheeler muck. I continue on to Nell's Channel. With the tide still rising, this is a perfect time to explore the interior of the island, which is a maze of channels and ponds. And, it really is a maze.

It is possible to cross the island, and I have done it west to east.  It is more challenging east to west, however. There are a good number of birds on the island - largely because I am probably the only person to come in here in a month or more. I flush a flock of 10 Green Wing Teal, many more Night Herons, severl Mallards, and when I stand up to see if I can find the exit channel, eight Great Blue Herons from a fairly small area. I do notice that the main interior channel on the island has cut banks, so I need to come in here when the water is lower.

After a half dozen wrong guesses, I find my way out into the main river , and head back upstream.

Up to Wooster Island

My last canoe trip was one of continuous beaver dam crossings - twenty two crossings in just six and a half miles. I barely had time to paddle before having to step out and pull the canoe over a dam. I picked today's route accordingly.

I put in under the highway bridge on the far side of town. The tide was coming in and had about 2 hours to go. I would have both the light wind and the tide at my back as I headed upriver. I cut across to the narrow channel between Peacock and Carting Islands, spotting six Great Egrets and two Great Blue Herons on the way. I wondered if it would be a Great Bird day. In the narrow channel, I flushed a few Mallards, and one Green Heron, which would fly ahead a hundred yards at a time, until I reached the top of the islands. 

I recrossed the river just because I prefer the quieter channel east of Fowler Island.

I saw few birds until I got up to the nameless island above the 15 bridge. There were good numbers of Great Egrets, Great Blue Herons, and one Snowy Egret, for good measure. Between here and the top of Wooster Island, a distance of two miles, I spotted about two dozen each of the Great Egrets and Great Blue Herons. Ripples in the water told why they were here. There were large schools of small fish, perfect food for the waders. And they were waiting... for the tide to go out. The high water was up against the bank, but as it dropped, the fish would be easy prey from the shore.

I took a turn around Wooster Island and headed back, following the opposite shore from my trip up. It made for a four hour trip without having to get out of the canoe.

Beaver Dam-o-rama

Driving over the Route 22 bridge, I glance over to check the river level. This is the only view of the river until I put in. It looks low.

The East Branch of the Croton River

At the Patterson put-in, the river does look low, but not obscenely so. A hundred yards down, I pass through a broken beaver dam, and then step over four more before getting a quarter mile in. These are all low minimal dams - 3 to 4 inches high, but they are structural and I have to get out and stand on the dams to drag the canoe over. The river is narrow, and sometimes the open channel is just barely wider than the canoe. I laugh to myself that if I had brought someone here for the first time, they would look at me and ask, "What river?" Anyway, it might be narrow, but the water is more than deep enough for paddling. 

An ominously open patch of water

Just as the river bends away from Pine Island, I cross my 7th beaver dam. It is obvious to me that the 13 mile round trip down to Green Chimneys and back is not going to happen today. This is going to be a slow picking away at the problem trip and making it down to the Route 22 bridge, the halfway point, will be enough. I'm fairly sure that these low dams will disappear when the river level comes back up. To me, they look more like a water conservation project to hold back some water until it we get some rain.

Dam #8 seen from below

The river widens some. This is an ominous sign. I pass a beaver lodge, then flush forty Wood Ducks. That is a good sign. The swamp seems to be a major stopover point for migrating Woodies. One fall, I spotted over 600 (six hundred) in the 3 miles below the  22 bridge. In fact, today the only Ducks that I will see are Wood Ducks. Of course, dam #8 appears at the bottom of this wide spot in the river. It is about a foot and a half high. I flush a pair of Ring Neck Pheasants. It has been years since I've seen them. They were introduced in the 1880's as a game bird.

With all the dams, all the stepping out and problem solving, I have to remind myself to look around and enjoy this spectacular place.

Dam #9 seen from below

A bit father on is dam #9, also about a foot and a half high. In this next stretch, I pass a well built beaver lodge with excellent and recent mudwork on the exterior. Usually, you don't see that amount of applied mud until closer to winter.  A lodge usually indicates a coming dam. Dam #10 is very well built, about two feet high, and sealed with a thick layer of mud on the upstream side. It is obvious that this dam and the lodge were built by the same colony - "mud" is their middle name.

Dam #11 from below

I sit at #10 for a few minutes. It is about a quarter mile to the 22 bridge, which is today's turn-around point. I decide to keep going, and this dam turns out to be an easy crossing due to some wood and firm ground on the left end. 

Dam #11 shows up, hiding just around the next bend. Then after a bit a of maze work through some low water and drift wood, I come to Dam #12. 12 is an old dam that fell out of use for several years and the beaver have come in and refurbished it. It still isn't holding back any water. I suspect there is an end run that the beaver haven't located, yet.

Dam #12 is close enough, with the 22 bridge not much more than a hundred yards away, hidden in the trees, but there just the same. I turn and start retracing my route. On the way back, I spot a Great Blue Heron and a Pileated Woodpecker, and a very noisy Hawk.