Last Trip of the Year

The river is higher than expected. After a full night of rain, I checked the river gauge height and it looked about normal. The trick is that the gauge I use as a reference is actually upstream a few miles on the Connecticut River, and that big river usually determines the behavior of the mush smaller Mattabesset. From the look of things, a fair amount of rain must be draining into the Mattabesset. As said, the water is high, but it is also murky with silt - it is normally clear in winter, and there is a moderately strong current.

I put in and head downstream. It is 55F, and partly sunny, with light wind. There is still some ice in the backwaters and attached to the river bank. Some of it is about a 1/2 inch thick, and although it is rotting fast, that thick stuff is too tough to push through, unless you have to.

I'm not particularly motivated to cover any distance. In fact, I waited for the weather to settle, and was to restless to stay home, and would have gone hiking, but figured that if I was going to drive somewhere to hike, I might as well take my canoe. I'll head down to the top of the big marsh and check on the the beaver lodges in that stretch.

 

The first lodge is rather ramshackle, but it always has been a bit of a mess. It is a bank burrow and I imagine that the high water must be lapping at the bottom of the living space. The reason that I think it is still in use appears just a few yards on.  I start spotting rather fresh scent mounds. Over the quarter mile between this lodge and the Point Lodge, there are at least a dozen scent mounds.  I test one, but last nights rain has washed any scent away. Scent mounds are a territorial mark, beaver being quite territorial. Besides the mounds, there are quite a few fresh tree gnaws and cut-downs. The Point Lodge is in fine shape. There is cut brush sticking out of the water in front of the lodge. This is not winter food, but part of a brush tunnel that the colony built during the summer drought to protect the river bank entry tunnels. The final lodge is near where the Tepee Lodge once was. It is a bank burrow somewhat on its way to becoming a conical lodge and it has recent cuttings added to the exterior. I flush a dozen Hooded Mergansers from near this last lodge.

With the high water, I decide to head back and continue upstream past my start point. In the last 15 minutes, a few of the long sheets of ice that were against the shore have floated free and pivoted. I find three sheets spanning the river from bank to bank. Fortunately each is not much wider than a canoe length and I bust through with a little extra effort. It is one of the winter paddling considerations - be sure that floating ice won't block your exit.

Above the start point, the current is even stronger. It seems to be about a 2:1 current (twice as long to go up as to go down). It is a perfectly do-able current, but it does make the upstream paddle a minor grind. I get up to just below the old trestle, and it has taken noticeably longer than usual to get here. I turn and begin speeding back.  While daydreaming, a big splash at the bank. I pull up and wait, and as I expect, a beaver surfaces near the far bank swimming upstream. As I continue, I notice just a few yards away, a fresh scent mound. There must be a bank burrow in the hillside somewhere near.

Maps

 I wait for the morning drizzle to subside before heading over to the Wheeler Marsh for a short trip. By the time I put in, the tide is near maximum ebb current. This makes for a pretty speedy trip downriver to the marsh, but it also means that I will have little time to poke around when I am there.  It is in the upper 40's, with no wind, and an overcast sky. While there is some low surface fog at the put-in, this disappears within a couple hundred yards.

As I reach the top of the marsh, a pair of Harriers lift off from the spartina. One briefly flies towards me, but then wheels around and heads out low over the marsh.

A lot of my recent thinking about the marsh pertains to maps. I have been collecting old bottles from the banks as they become exposed in order to come up with an estimate for the rate of soil accumulation in the marsh (currently, 1 foot takes about 50 years). My samples come mostly from the area near Nell's Island and in the channel at the very top of the marsh. A large part of the remainder of the marsh is more of a mud flat where there are almost no cut banks to extract a bottle from.  

Information about the marsh tends to be anecdotal prior to 1900. So far, I've read that there was a shoal running across the main channel from Nell's Island to Stratford with a depth of about 3 feet. This was (also anecdotally), blown/dredged out sometime around 1850. Supposedly, the marsh was more of a bay prior to the dredging with the river passing around either side of Nell's Island. I have located a couple maps from the 1830's and 1840's. One of them clearly shows Nell's Island and neither of them shows any marsh. However, one has to think about who made the map and what was the map's purpose. Prior to about 1940 or so, marshland was viewed as wasteland. If one couldn't build on it, farm on it, mine it, or flood it, it was useless. 

So, an 1840 map drawn for the purpose of land use is an unreliable scientific document, except that we can assume that Nell's Island had a bit more height to it than the rest of the marsh, which is still true. One possibility of this open bay idea is that the person who wrote about the 19th century marsh was looking at one of those old maps. The first detailed scientific based maps of the marsh are USGS topographic maps from about 1900, and they show the marsh, more or less, as it currently is.  Well, it seems there is an art project here for me to work on.

1926 map of the marsh

I head down Nell's Channel, and as I near Milford Point, about 75 Canada Geese fly by to the east of me. With the tide dropping, I have to keep moving so as not to get stuck in the mud flat.  Coming across the bottom of the marsh, I eventually total about 300 Canada Geese, most of which were floating up near Milford Point. There is a good current to work against all the way around to Cat Island. The marsh is really draining fast.

I find the two Harriers once again as I leave the top of the marsh on my way back upriver.

Harrier - the white butt patch is a good ID marking

Local Water

I put in under the high bridge.  There are quite a few cars in the lot - no doubt fishermen or hunters. It is sunny and just under 30F. The tide is falling and I cross the river, eddy hopping the bridge abutments in a 3mph current. 

I flush a Great Blue Heron, a Harrier, and several Mallards as I approach the far bank. Then I head upriver through the four islands, taking the narrow channel between Carting and Peacock islands. The islands are a no hunting zone and it shows. I flush more than 50 ducks - Blacks or Mallards, as I go.  It's far more than I would see in the larger Wheeler Marsh after one or two shotgun blasts.  The birds I flush circle upriver and head off to the side to more secluded ponds and marsh areas. 

Leaving the islands, I follow the west shore noting the sedimentary bedrock that has been tipped a full 90 degrees. In mid-river even with the where Peck's Mill was, there is a flock of twenty Buffleheads.  I often spot a few Buffleheads in this open section of the river.  It's just open water, so other than having long sight lines, I have no idea why they would prefer this spot.

I paddle up to the bottom of the Dragonfly factory, cross the river, and return riding the end of the ebb current.

Canoe Boxing Day

It is sunny and calm with a temperature that will rise from 25F to about 35F during the day. 

I put in on the Lieutenant River, a small last minute tributary to the Connecticut River. I turn upriver, pass under a two-lane bridge and take a deep breath.  I have been stuck inside with bad cold for the last week and I am looking forward to being outside for something other than a short walk about town. Turning the first bend, I spot twenty Hooded Mergansers. I usually spot these birds in three's - a male with two females. I add a Great Blue Heron, a flock of Common Mergansers that pass overhead, and some Black Ducks and Mallards.  There is a shelf of ice attached to the bank. It is pretty firm stuff, about a 1/2 inch thick at most. 

Some of it is dusted with snow from the other night. Out in front of the Florence Griswald Museum, the ice spans the river, but there is a lane of airy weak ice that probably formed last night. It is obvious, being dark in color, and the canoe cuts through it easily.  I get about another 200 yards, not reaching the Boulder Swamp, where the river is frozen over, most of it dusted with snow. 

I head back down, passing my start point and continuing into the back channels of the Connecticut. I flush a few small groups of Black/Mallards every so often, and another Great Blue Heron. I continue down to the Back River, which is actually just a channel that connects the main river with the smaller back channels. 

I don't usually paddle the Back, because it is just a wide straight channel and rarely has any interesting wildlife. But, it makes for a different return route, and the main river won't be the wake bounce fest that it is during summer when the motorboat drivers are out.  As it happens, I spot a raccoon working the shoreline, and then a small duck the dives with little disturbance. It reminds me of a Pied Billed Grebe, and I finally get a decent photo to ID the bird.  It is a female Ruddy Duck. Some of the unidentified ducks I spotted earlier might have been Ruddys. I don't see them that often.

Female Ruddy Duck

I head back up the big river, dodging sheets of fresh water ice that have been coming downriver. A lot of it is pretty well formed - clear and hard and a 1/2 inch or more thick, and anything bigger than the top of a coffee table is best avoided. 

One more Great Blue Heron as I near my start point.

Season of the Spirit Birds

It is calm and the water is near glassy smooth with a blue sky overhead, the sun burning through a barely visible haze of high up ice crystals.

The yachtsmen have parked their party barges for the long winter sleep, and the river has returned to something that was originally intended. Nothing would be more gauche for the  CEO, COO, CFO or some other C than to entertain their network on a boat when you needed to wear a jacket. It would brand that yachtperson as, "not one of team" to put the network through such horrors.

I put in where Ely's Ferry once was. About two miles up is where the Brockway Ferry once was, and about two miles down is where the Old Saybrook - Lye Ferry once was.  About two miles above Brockway is where the Chester - Haddam Ferry still is, and about two miles above that is the spectacular antique Haddam swing bridge.

The old Brockway Ferry Landing

I paddle up the east shore. There is an Eagle perched in the top of a tree on Brockway Island, but it is too far off to see if it is mature or juvenile. In the quiet, I hear Canada Geese. They are difficult to see being on the far side of the river. Sounds of all sort are traveling unimpeded in the calm.

Winter is the season of spirit birds. They are more visible with the leaves down and with the strong contrast caused by the low sun. A quarter mile ahead is a Great Blue Heron, or a Pileated Woodpecker, or a Hawk, perched in a tree. I paddle closer, glancing up to not loose it among the other trees. And then it is gone, not by wing, but just gone, transformed into a bent shaggy branch. 

The Selden Channel

I paddle up the Selden Channel. With the marsh plants still standing, it is quite beautiful. I spot a Sharpshin Hawk. Then, I see an Eastern Bluebird, which was very much unexpected. It is such a contrast to the earth tones of a winter marsh, but then I realize that in nature, bright blue and bright red and orange and pinks and most any color one can think of, are earth tones.

Sharpshin Hawk

I round the island and although the river side is less scenic, at least it is a different "scenic".  The Haddam Ferry is still at its landing although I don't know if it is still in operation. I pass four Swans. A minute later, I here the flapping of eight swan feet on the water's surface. Unexpectedly, they pass me and continue down river. I watch them until they disappear around a bend.  It will take me more than 20 minutes of paddling to get that far.

Otter

Just above the entrance to Hamburg Cove, I spot a swimmer some 50 or 60 yards ahead. By movement, it's definitely not a beaver, and in a second or two, I rule out a muskrat. Its curiosity brings it closer - its an otter. It gives me the once over, eyeballing me from behind a boulder in the river, then diving and coming up behind me. Then, both of us satisfied, we go our separate ways.

Before the Rain

I put in just before low tide on the Connecticut River at Ely's Ferry. It is starting to cloud over and the weather service predicts rain to start in 3 hours.  A little rain won't be much of a problem as the temperature will be in the low 50's, and the winds will be light.  

I turn upstream and follow the forested shoreline, just far enough out that I have depth for my paddle. A hundred yards into it, a male Wood Duck flushes from the top edge of the bedrock apron that forms the river bank. Then, a few hundred yards ahead, I spot an Eagle taking off with something in its talons. It lands on a root ball, and then I notice a second Eagle, and then a third. A few more canoe lengths, and there is a fourth. They might all be immature Bald Eagles, but as I get closer I begin to doubt my judgement. The whistling is chirpier and raspier than I expect. We do get Golden Eagles migrating through, but I've only seen one, so my ability to identify a Golden Eagle is pretty weak. Unfortunately, once again, I forgot my binoculars. I get one okay photo and a bunch of blurry ones.  If anyone is going to bet money on the ID, I'd recommend that you go with immature Bald Eagles, just because it is far more likely.

I round the point and head up into Hamburg Cove. In a normal winter, the cove will freeze over, and that is one of the reasons to come here as it might be the last visit for the season. All the yachts are gone, and with no one to be seen, it is just myself and several small flocks of Ducks and Canada Geese. The Ducks are flushing from long distance, so aside from the obvious Common Mergansers, some of them I cannot ID.

I get up to the bottom of Eight Mile River, but without some tide, getting any further would be a portage. With a high tide, one can get about a 1/2 mile up before the river becomes more of a hike than a canoe trip. There is some freshwater ice in the nooks and corners where it stays shady and the wind doesn't reach. 

On the way back out I watch some of the Ducks in the small side cove near the entrance. Again, it is mostly Common Mergansers, but I spot three Hooded Mergansers in the mix, and a Hawk perched nearby in a tree. I let them have the cove and continue back.

I head down the river as far as Nott's Island, spotting two mature Bald Eagles along the way. I turn at the top of the island, and right on time, it begins to sprinkle.

Mystery Log

Last night, we got our first dusting of snow, just enough and dry enough that a broom cleared the walkway. If I needed an excuse to go canoeing, and I don't, the first snowfall would work.

I put in at the highway bridge.  It is about freezing with a light wind coming up the river, and a mostly sunny sky. But, the weather is going to shift this afternoon as a front comes through. Gusts and clouds are predicted, with another dusting of snow overnight.

The tide has been coming in for about 2 hours, so I follow the east shore closely and take advantage of the eddies as I make my way downriver against the current.

With the low water, the spartina is standing tall and golden, and reaching above my head. I explore a few openings that I don't remember entering. There is some tidal ice still on the banks in areas where there is no wind or current.  The plan is set and I end up wandering and weaving through the marsh in a generally downriver direction until reaching Milford Point. Then I turn and wander back with a lean to the west, eventually forcing my way out into Nell's Channel. The main opening to the interior of Nell's Island is right in front of me, so I go there. 

I make my way down the center of the island, which is pretty obvious if one has been here a few times. Then, unlike my last trip in here, I begin making wrong turns. Meanwhile, it has clouded over and the wind has come up. The day is turning raw. I start heading back out, needing to at least find a place that I recognize. I find the mid-island exit, which leads west into the main river channel. But, there is a mystery log blocking it. Mystery logs show up near Duck hunting season (this is my second one). I suspect that the mystery logs are the work of a Duck hunter of the fuckturd persuasion who is trying to keep other hunters from crowding the space that he thinks is his. This mystery log is clearly a man made operation as there is a well trodden path around the end of it. This pisses me off as I have to backtrack for about 20 minutes against the current and the wind to get off the island.  There are always unintended consequences when one messes with nature.

I get back to Nell's Channel and head upriver with the current and wind at my back. A quarter mile up, there is a well behaved flock of Black Ducks and Mallards dead-nuts center in the channel. It's as if they are decoys, which they are.  It is a main channel and kind of a goofy place to hunt. I paddle through and I am pretty sure that the hunter didn't notice me.

Sometimes is Good Enough

I set out on slack high tide water. It is about 40F, almost calm, and the sky is clear. The spartina in the marsh has gone golden, and still stands tall. It is beautiful. I spot three Common Loons in the river just below the draw bridge. Common Loons winter in this area and are often seen near the mouths of rivers.

I head into the Nell's Island maze. The island is one of the older features of the marsh, existing before people began dredging and mucking about with the way things were. I've never seen anyone else in the island, with "in" being the correct word as one could only be "on" the island at a low tide. I have figured out four ways to get in or out of the island and still give myself a full hour to find my way out. Aside from a few patches of phragmites, which mark high ground, the island is all cord grass. There are several ponds and dozens of deadend channels and nothing that could really be called a landmark. 

This is my fourth time in the maze, and while I am still guessing at some of the turns, my guesses are somewhat educated, and I am surprised that I get from the top of the island to the bottom without making a wrong turn. I imagine someone asking me about using GPS, and the conversation goes, "Navigating with GPS is for people who don't know where they are and don't care." At this point, I've been outdoors enough that I care where I stand, and if I don't know exactly where I am, I will figure it out by looking at my surroundings. And, that is a bigger idea than the Nell's Island maze.

Norther Harrier

I flush two Great Blue Herons from the maze. I expected to see more birds, but this is hunting season. Two hunting boats heading out passed me as I headed into the marsh. It's only a square mile and surrounded by houses, so a coupe of shotgun blasts and everything has moved to the outer edges where there is no hunting. 

Cutting across the marsh, I see a few Black Ducks, just a couple or a few at a time. I spot a soaring bird and without anything to scale it, I manage to get a telephoto shot of it. The photo shows it to be a Harrier, its white butt patch and owl face clear enough.  I push through the grasses to get to the Central Phragmite Patch, and from there, I follow more open water out and back to where I came from.