Some Rain, Some Silence

I put in at Pond Brook meeting 15 kayaks as I set the canoe in the water. It's 2 parties with the first 4 people too cool to wear PFDs.  The second party has a leader and all of them wear PFDs.  It's why I added my rescue throw bag (it has 50 feet of floating rescue rope) to my kit for the day. 

I head out of the cove and turn downriver towards the chinkapin oak.  If I made a hand drawn map of this area (something that I do as an artist), the chinkapins would be on it. Not because they are particularly rare (they are not), but because this is the first place where I learned of their existance.  On that day I noticed acorns on a tree that seemed to have the wrong leaf, but it was just an oak that I had never noticed.

Chinkapin Oak

I turn the point finding a boatfull of bros fishing, not a forward bill cap amongst them. Next up was an Osprey perched in a tree, and then one of many Great Blue Herons that I would see.  Then, I spotted a weasel running along the bank.  It disappeared.  Mink are more common sightings, but mink are a bit larger and the ones I have seen have always popped up out of their hiding spot to look at me, at least once.  Mink seem to be curious.

At times, the water is glassy smooth. 

It starts to sprinkle, which gradually turns to a light rain.  I pass 2 fishermen hiding under the trees and ask them how it is going.   "A little wet," is the reply.  I respond, "yeah, but it limits the boat traffic."

There are very few boats out here for any weekend, let alone a Labor Day weekend.  Clouds knock out at least half of the boaters, and a bit of rain knocks out most of the rest. 

The rain stops, not that it was that big of a deal, and I continue up to the cascades.  I get rained on again as I near.  I turn and head back.

I have the river to myself at times, and for longer than I would ever expect.  And, it is quiet - no overhead planes, no motorboats, and no leaf blowers.  I cease paddling and soak in the silence.

More boats show up while I am in the last mile, but it still isn't anything like I expected.  

It was a fine day. 

From the Feral Cat Park

I head upriver from the Feral Cat Park, starting out at a quarter to twelve. It is a fine partly cloudy day with a moderate wind coming down the river.  I am surprised to see so few motorboats on such a nice holiday weekend, but I suppose that brunch isn't over.  The Mai Tai Navy goes to battle stations at a crawl.

Three Osprey are wading on the sandbar east of Great Flat.  Maybe they are feeding on small fingerlings. Every so often, I spot a Great Blue Heron or Great Egret. 

A few boats show up by the time I get to No Name Island. I go a little way into the shallow east channel.  That shallowness might be the reason this island lacks a name.  There is an early Goose hunter up about halfway.  He's collecting his decoys, obviously calling it a day.  Early Goose hunting is designed to get the nonmigratory Canada Geese.  I'm told they don't respond much to decoys, so it is mostly luck to have them show up.  However, hunters can take a lot of Geese during the early season.

I head back, crossing the river to paddle near the Dragonfly factory.  A few more boats go by, but for the last mile and a half I have the river to myself.  It has turned out to be a fine trip.

M is for Maze

I rounded up my friend, M, for a second low tide tour in the Wheeler Marsh. M is one of my most frequent canoe partners and she has been away most of the summer.  

We get down to the state ramp for our start.  At low tide there are not a whole lot of choices for start points as most of the rougher put-ins are mud slogs just to reach water.  Mud slogs are especially fun with a canoe on your shoulders. It is a nice sunny day, although the wind has far exceeded the weather prediction.  But, the wind at the river is not as strong as it was at the house.  We will have a headwind on the return, but it will be doable.

We get to the marsh about an hour after low tide. It is clear that today's low tide is not at all as low as it was during yesterdays trip.  In fact, it looks like there is another 8 or 10 inches of water.  The narrow mud flats below most of the cut banks are submerged.  The Least Sandpipers are out in force, but the Yellow Legs are nowhere to be seen.  We head down Nell's Channel and turn into the maze.  Yesterday I coasted in on little more than 6-8 inches of water, until bottoming out.  Today, we passed yesterdays turning back point and made it to the tight turns near the root ball, although we were low enough that I couldn't see the roots from the canoe... I just recognized the series of sharp turns in the channel.  We flushed some Great Egrets, young Yellow Crowned Night Herons, one mature Black Crowned Night Heron, several Mallards, and what might have been a dozen Black Ducks, and a lot of Sandpipers.  A good day for birds, but not like yesterday.  Anyway, we ran out of water at the root ball, and it would be at least an hour before we would be able to continue, so we turned and headed back out.

Hugging the river right bank, the wind wasn't bad.  Cut over and took the side exit and then headed back up river. 

Low Tide

I set out at low tide and head down to the marsh.  This time of year is particularly good bird watching with recently fledged locals and a variety of migrators.  It is about 75F, almost overcast, with a stiff but doable wind out of the SW.  

Low tide is especially peaceful in the marsh. The choice of routes is very limited, but the low water and exposed mudflats discourage most people from visiting.  All that exposed mud brings out a different bird crew than what one sees at high tide.  A dozen Yellow Legs are at the top of Nell's Channel, and just about anywhere that there is a foot of exposed mud, there seems to be some Least Sandpipers.  There's probably some other look-alike Sandpipers, but that has to be left to the Sandpiper freaks. 

Greater Yellow Legs

 I make my way down the channel and then through one of the side channels that heads toward Milford Point.  A lot of this is in six inches of water.  Four Teal overfly me.  I did not expect them.

Least Sandpiper

I turn around and head back towards Nell's and I decide to see just how far into the island I can get at low tide.  It would be a good spot to spy a Rail, but that's not going to happen.   With the tide rising, I can drift into the island.  There are more Yellow Legs, Sandpipers, plus a Yellow Crowned Night Heron, several Snowy Egrets and some Mallards.  Just about where I run out of water, maybe a 1/4 mile in, I turn a bend and find 3 Snowy Egrets and a Glossy Ibis.  Since I drifted in rather silently, I get to sit and watch.

Glossy Ibis and Snowy Egret

That is the limit for low tide in the island, so I spin and head out.  I flush 4 Teal, possibly the same that overflew me, in Nell's Channel.  The upper east side entrance to the channel has just barely enough water to make the passage.  Then, I head back upriver.

Dam to Dam

It is a nice overcast day with light wind and mid 70 temperatures. I head inland to avoid what would be low tide paddling in the coastal marshes.  

I put in at Indian Well State Park.  The sign at the put in says that there is a dam 3 miles downstream.  I only pay attention to the sign because the distance to the dam is exactly half that, and I am curious how many years will pass until the sign is corrected.

I head down to the dam. There seems to be only one other boat on the river, a water ski boat that is running a very skillful water skier through a marked slalom course.  I don't mind at all being around that type of boater as I can predict with good certainty where and what they will be doing.  It is a very calm paddle down to the dam.

I turn and head upriver.  The river isn't glassy smooth, but it is close.  My canoe moves along quite quickly in these conditions.  I pass several Great Blue Herons, a Kingfisher, some Mallards, a couple Cormorants and an Osprey.  That's not much for  five miles of river, but reservoirs seem to be that way - nice water storage, but lacking in the habitat department.

Getting over the Shelf is easy today.  The Shelf is a shallow that runs bank to bank and at the wrong water level, either too high or too low, the current is too fast for me bust.  Today, I might very well have coasted over it just on the momentum of the canoe. 

Once in view of the Stevenson Dam, there is a short stretch of whitewater, which is usually class I.  A big storm a few years ago rearranged parts of this stretch when Eight Mile Brook turned into a torrent.  I used to be able to paddle up through it when the water level was normal, but since the storm I haven't gotten through.  Today, the water is about as good as it gets and I eddy hop almost up to Eight Mile Brook.  There is some fast water here without the strategic eddies, but the real problem are a large number of badly spaced boulders hiding just below the surface.  It's exactly the kind of place where I might hang up the canoe if I stall out in the current and have to turn around.  Anyway, it is a good excuse to turn and head back.  

It has been a fine day, very peaceful and good for the soul. I spot a Green Heron on the return.  It flies ahead and disappears on the river right bank.

Up to Dividend Brook

I set out from Cromwell, heading up the Connecticut River.  It's a moderately big river in this stretch - 800 to 1000 feet wide.  It runs fast during high water, but most of the time it is calm and slow moving. The horizon is the tops of 60 foot hardwood trees growing along the bank.  I can see higher ground upriver where a glacial dam from the ice age formed.  Glacial Lake Hitchcock was behind that dam and it was big enough and deep enough that it depressed the ground beneath it.  The old shoreline actually runs at an angle descending as it goes upriver.  

It is calm, maybe 75F and mostly sunny.   

I cross over and follow the west side of Gildersleeve Island, a 3/4 mile long crescent shaped land in one of the bends of the Connecticut.  The island is forested and probably tops out at about 8 or 10 feet above the current river level, which means it is pretty much awash during high water events. 

From the top of the island I cross back to river-right. The purpose of the trip is to check on the beaver dam in Dividend Brook, and if I follow the river-right shore, I should run into it.  I pass a floating 8-point Deer carcass.  A ways on, I spot a Vulture and a Crow in a shoreline tree.  A little out of place, I find the reason about 50 yards away - a deer carcass that has reached the perfect state of decomposition for Vulture dinner.  

As it happens, Dividend Brook is the first inlet on that side of the river.  Unfortunately, it is shallow today.  I get in just far enough to know that I am in the right place, but the mud slog that is required to get up to the dam is not worth it.  I can come back when there is another 8 or 10 inches of water.  

I cross the river again and head back, following the other side of Gildersleeve Island.  There is a fair amount of willow growing at the water's edge, and the number of beaver peel sticks on the shore show that they are being well harvested.  Thin willow saplings are easy food for beaver, and the cut saplings send up new shoots after being cut.

And the bird report - half dozen Great Egrets, half Dozen Great Blue Herons, a couple Osprey, one Hawk, some Mallards.

East River

It has been awhile since I've been in the East River, a nearby and excellent river for a daytrip. I put in at Foote's Bridge.  The tide has been coming up for about an hour, and although there is 4 miles of lag (the tide chart is for the mouth of the river), the water is low, but just deep enough that I do not have to step out or wade at any of the usual shallows.  There is a big tide coefficient for the day - ratio of low to high tide levels, so it must have been almost bone dry here 2 hours ago.  It is a good day, mostly sunny going to clear sky, low humidity, and temperature in the mid 70's.  The prediction is for the light morning wind to ease up, but this seems doubtful.

I make it down and past the Gravel Flats without having to step out of the canoe.  There is a fairly strong wind, perhaps 10-15 mph.  It's tolerable in the forest section, but it could be a lot windier in the open marsh below Clapboard Hill Road.  I ease up and mull it over just above that road.  

Continuing down, the wind is lighter in the open marsh.  It's not the first time I've seen this happen.  There aren't any high hills near the forest, but for some reason wind is often funneled into the forest section of the river.  I find a flock of Yellow Legs at the first bend below the Clapboard Hill bridge.  There are a few Osprey, one Hawk soaring up high, and a solitary Yellow Crowned Night Heron just below the Big Bends.  Below the Post Road, a large flock of Laughing Gulls are resting on the dilapidated floating docks of the shithead-marina-that-never-opened-for-business (Madison really needs to clean that crap up).  

Below the railroad bridge, I duck into alternate Sneak as a orange plastic kayak comes my way.  No one is going to follow me very far into that increasingly narrow channel. I work through and return using the Sneak, deciding not to extend my wind wrestling anymore than necessary, and use the extra time to go up above my put-in.

The wind increases again as soo as I enter the forest section.  Go figure.  I continue on above my start point.  There's about a half mile of paddling in this upper section before the river gets shallow, which is also where frequent log hopping is required.  I turn back a little before that, just not feeling like pusing through the summer brush.  I kayaker appears behind me as I head back.  He's exploring, so I tell him some of what I know, and he continues.  I head out.   

Snowy Egret Day

I set out early in the afternoon, perhaps a short hour after high tide. But, today is a higher than average high tide, so I have plenty of time to work my way through the marsh.  I start at the refuge launch, which is right in the marsh. This way, I avoid the Seadoo moron fest that occurs on Friday afternoons.  

It is about 80F with a pleasant light wind from the SW.  Although there was a predicted chance of afternoon thunderstorms, the threat has gone around us, which is not unusual.  

Crossing the bottom of the marsh is typically bird-quiet at high tide.  I flush a Night Heron here and there.  Then I take the side channel to Nell's Channel upriver.  This side channel runs at a diagonal.  It is almost as wide as Nell's, but leads (coming down river) into the shallower internal marsh.  

After one misstep, I get into the maze. I start flushing NIght Herons and Mallards every 50 yards or so. When I get to the rootball, one of the only landmarks inside Nell's Island, a bunch of Egrets and Night Herons flush.  It might be 2 dozen birds total.  I make my way down and back into Nell;s Channel and turn upriver.

Nell's Channel is usually kind of quiet, but it seems that the Snowy Egrets are beginning to flock, and at one of the side inlets, I pass 3 dozen Snowy Egrets all collected within about 50 yards of shoreline.

I head to the top of the marsh, then down the side sneak that leads to the Central Phragmites Patch, then into the main outside channel. Egrets and Night Herons are finally beginning to perch in the trees on Cat Island.   

I head down the outer channel to my launch point.  

The Shephaug

I put in on Pond Brook for a trip up to the cascades at the head of the reservoir.  It is a quiet day, even the leaf blowers have taken a break.  It is in the 70's, with a very light wind and a partly sunny sky.  

I hug the shore as usual.  Mostly, this is because most of the interesting stuff happens where ecological patches meet. Here, one patch is the river and the other is the forested hillsides.  The birds here are on the shoreline as with the Great Blue Herons, or perched in the trees overhanging the river as in the Osprey, or soaring along the hillside with a clear view of the river... the Bald Eagles. The family of Mallards that I pass are dabbling in the weeds that grow in the shallows.   

This is one of the finer "lake" paddles in the area.  Although it is a river, the dam downstream makes it appear as a lake.  There are scattered houses, but most are high up on the hillside and much of the land along the lake is forest preserve - either state forest or Nature Conservancy or something of the sort.

I spot 2 immature Bald Eagles and one mature that flushes while I am staring at a Great Blue Heron.  I'll end up counting several Great Blue Herons and maybe 4 Osprey. The Osprey were actively fishing. 

I pass a few fishing boats along the way, almost all of them drifting motors off near the shallows where they might find a bass.

I pause briefly at the cascades before heading back out. 

Birdwatch Part 2

 It is another fine day with sun and a light SE wind coming up the river, and the temperature will stay in the 70's.  S joins me.  We are in no hurry with the tide peaking about half past ten.

We set out for a second trip into the Wheeler, just because the bird watching is currently so good. The trip down to the marsh is on slack water.  A barge heads out of the upper entrance as we arrive.  It is rebuilding a dock that the winter ice pushed over.  We take a clockwise route, heading into the inner channel that leads to the Central Phragmites Patch.  Flush a few Great Egrets and Yellow Crowned Night Herons as we go.  

We quietly approach the phragmites patch.  Yesterday, there were a good many Night Herons, but they were on the far side of the patch and flushed some distance from us.  Then, 2 Black Crowned Night Herons, another and another.  A total of 8 mature Black Crowns flush from the patch.

We back out and head down the east side.  As with yesterday, no birds perching in the the trees.  Then we head across the bottom of the marsh, staying within the spartina islands as the wind is rising.  With the tide still high, the route across the marsh is birdless.  

I make a couple wrong turns, the high tide changing the remembered view, but we get to Nell's Channel with little time lost.  Then, we head into the Maze.  We start flushing birds - Yellow Crowned Night Herons, Great Egrets and a good number of Snowy Egrets, and one Great Blue Heron.  We are talking and I miss a turn.  I haven't been misplaced in the Maze for quite some time.  It takes three attempts before I get us back on track.  Fortunately, the root ball with the failed Osprey nest can be seen, if one knows where to look.  It is the only landmark worth a shit for finding the clear route through.  We miss one more turn, then back on track through the narrow exit, I miss the last turn and take the longer exit into Nell's Channel.  There is something reassuring knowing that after dozens of trips through the maze, I can still misplace myself.  

With that, we head up the river, current against us, but a growing breeze behind. 

Paddling with a Friend

It is a fine day with plenty of sun, temperatures in the 70's and a light wind coming up the river.  I round up my friend, A, and we set out from under the highway for a tour of the marsh.  A likes to bird watch and is familiar with the marsh, but mostly from land.  I give a A a quick paddling lesson, and then we set out. The tide is near high and will start falling during the trip.

By the time we pass the drawbridge, A has the paddling down pretty good.  

We enter Nell's Island through the upper channel and in short order, begin flushing birds.  It is a lot of Night Herons, Great Egrets and Mallards, but we also flush a few Great Blue Herons that were standing close to each other.  All the way through the maze we have birds either flushing or flying past.

Coming out of the maze, we head up to Milford Point.  But, with the tide high, many of the birds that might be seen here in lower water are not around.  It is a quiet leg across to the east shore.  

Hoping to find Night Herons perched in the east side trees, we get blanked.  It happens.  So, I turn us into the almost invisible gap that leads towards the Central Phragmites Patch.  I warn A that this is a particularly good spot to find Black Crowned Night Herons, probably because of a small patch of slightly higher ground where the phragmites grow.  We do flush about 20 Night Herons, but they rise up from the far side of the patch. As we turn back, I spot a Harrier, which obliges us by staying nearby until we get out into the open where A can eyeball the bird with the binoculars.  It's a good sighting.  Harriers are common, but mostly when the Osprey are not nesting.  My guess is that Osprey eggs and young are prey for Harriers, so the Osprey won't tolerate their presence. 

With that, it is time to head back up river.  It has been a very good birding trip and the only thing left is to come back at lower tide to show A how different it can be. 

 

Breaking the Rules

I am occupied during the morning and set out early in the afternoon.  Normally, a late start means paddling with the motorboat types, but it is overcast and therefore, forbidden for motorboat drivers to leave shore.  I head down to the marsh on very calm air, seeing only one other boat in that mile of river.

Short Billed Dowitcher

It is low tide, or thereabouts.  I did not check the tide table close enough to exactly remember the timing.  I head into the marsh, paddling east through the upper channel.  Great Egrets, a couple Osprey, and a couple Short Billed Dowitchers guard the entrance along with numerous Yellow Legs.

 Halfway down the east side of the marsh is shallowest point, which is not passable at most low tides.  Not remembering the tide timing, I check for the current by pausing to look at any grass growing in the water.  At this location, if the current is flowing in my direction, the marsh is filling.  I keep moving and finally pass over the shallowest section, where I also pick up a light current in my direction.  All good, as long as I stick to the correct channel, I can complete the circle.  

There has been a good number of Yellow Crowned Night Herons, which is no surprise at this time of the year. Coming across the marsh, I find a couple dozen Laughing Gulls feeding on a school of small fish in the shallows.  I spy a Clapper Rail as it sneaks back into the spartina, and there is a flock of a dozen Snowy Egrets back up in one of the side channels.  The gnats are particularly annoying in this section, a result of warm calm air.

I head back via Nell's Channel finding a second Clapper Rail on the exposed mud flats up one of the side channels.   

Wild Rice Looksee

I didn't sleep well, but the day is far too nice to not make use of.  It will be calm and somewhere near 80F with blue sky that should eventually become cloudy.

I put in at the bottom of Salmon Cove.  It is a long-time favorite, a freshwater tidal area with limited development and little motorboat traffic.  Swamp, marsh, forested hillsides, the cove and the rivers that enter the cove have it all.  One other reason to come here is to check on the wild rice crop.  

A few years back, the Connecticut River flooded during mid-summer.  An unusual timing for a flood, Salmon Cove and Salmon River backed up as a result.  The flood lasted well over a week with water levels 8 to 10 feet above normal.  This flooded the annual wild rice crop, which never went to seed.  Wild Rice is actually a grass, and needs to reseed itself every year.  The following year, most of the dense patches of wild rice were completely absent.

As I head into the cove, an immature Bald Eagle overflies me above my right shoulder.  It takes a perch in the tall snag up ahead where the cove turns in.  

It is about the most peaceful day in here that I can remember.  The water is near glassy and there is no one else in the entire cove. I follow the east shore up to the Moodus River.  

Moodus beaver dam

The tide is out and the water shallow, but not so much to be a problem.  I head up the Moodus, hearing the sound of rushing water ahead.  I know from past trips that the rushing water is a beaver dam.  This dam is submerged when the tide is up, but standing proud a foot or foot and a half right now.  The beaver built this dam to hold back tidal water so that there would be a steady pond depth.  It doesn't need to be any taller than it already is - the pond refills twice a day and never runs shallow.  There are a couple similar dams in the area, and those dams are not on flowing rivers like this one.  Anyway, I have no reason to cross the dam as there is a second more difficult dam/deadfall to cross and less than a third of a mile of paddleable river.  

Pond Brook wild rice - eventually, the rice will fill in right
up to where the canoe is.

I head out and cross the top of the cove and then make my way up the Salmon River. The next stop is Pond Brook.  The brook had a dense field of wild rice before the flood, and it was here where the effects of the flood were most noticeable.  The season following the flood, the only wild rice was in the upper edges.  Something more than an acre of wild rice disappeared.  Today, the rice is returning, but it is still not much more than half of what it had been.

I head up to the Leesville Dam, but the river runs shallow before the last bend.  With that, I turn back.

There is an Eagle perched again at the point near the bottom of the cove, but this time it is a mature Bald Eagle. It is a good ending to a good day.

Primordial Ooze

Yesterday's trip did the soul a lot of good.

It will be sunny and warm, although no oppressively so, but still, I picked a river where I could find shade when I wanted it.

The Mattebasset is one of my primordial ooze rivers. It is a mix of marsh, swamp and lowland forest, all of which gets flooded a few times each year. The current is slow no matter what the level, until one is a few miles upstream of the usual put-in. The banks are muddy as is the bottom in most places.  The deadfalls that lay along the banks are coated in a thin layer of silty mud that makes them look like they've been in place for a hundred years.  I keep my eyes out for fresh beaver sign, but find nothing - no scent mounds, no fresh gnaws.

Great Egrets and Great Blue Herons are working the shallows.  I spot a few Kingfishers and a couple Green Herons.  A couple of Osprey have flown over, and there is a young Hawk somewhere out in the trees making a racket near the Tepee Lodge site.

Wild Rice

Pickerel weed is still blooming, but wild rice has been added to the mix.  The wild rice stands tall above the cattails and lower marsh plants.  The top is part tassel, part worn out paint brush.  The grass seed that we call wild rice is hidden in that top.  When the seed is ripe, it'll shake loose.  It would be very difficult to harvest the wild rice in this marsh - one needs a better flooded crop.  But, it makes great bird food.

I paddle down to the big river and circle Wilcox Island - that's about a mile and a half.  It has been quiet all day.  Then, I head back the way I came.

When Everything Seems Broken

We've been recovering from a summer flu that seemed particularly nasty.  Laying around the house, napping, and checking in altogether too frequently to see what the Mango-Shit-Gibbon is doing to our country and planet is hard on the soul. Everything that the creature touches turns to shit.

It is cloudy and humid and aiming to be somewhat warm, but not overly hot.  I put in for a short trip down to the marsh, and with the tide hitting bottom not long after I start paddling, it will be short trip with almost all of the internal marsh routes being reduced to muddy ditches.

The tide lag provides a good current, better than you might expect. Although just 15 minutes before low tide, there is a lot of tidal water upstream of here that needs to find its way toward the sea.  I pass a Great Egret, a Snowy Egret, an immature Night Heron (probably Yellow Crowned), an adult Yellow Crowned Night Heron, a few Osprey, a few yellow Legs, and the usual Common Terns sitting on the last dock before the marsh.  I head down Nell's Channel, there is not much of a choice to be honest.

There is about 5 feet of exposed cut bank.  I figured, by collecting and dating glass embedded glass bottles, that the marsh accumulates soil at about 50 years per foot.  This means that at the water level, the mud bank dates to about the Revolution.  If you are wondering, I never find glass bottles at that level. In fact the lowest level where I've found a bottle is not quite 3 feet down - 1890-ish.  I've never seen anything other than drift wood at the current water level.  200 years ago, glass was rare enough that it would not have been casually discarded.  Rather, it would have been re-used as long as possible.  On top of that, the simple fact of a much smaller population limits the chance of it ending up in the marsh at all. 

I round Nell's Island and head back up the main river.  I spot only one boat on the move during the trip.  It is a quiet day, for sure. It has been good for the soul.

The Juveniles are Arriving in the Marsh

I talk S into and early afternoon trip through the Wheeler Marsh.  It doesn't take too much talking.

It's a bit over two hours to high tide, so the water in the marsh isn't too low, and the paddling will get better as we proceed.  It is cloudy and humid with a light wind.  If it was sunny it would be unpleasant. 

The last dock has about 10 Common Terns and one Laughing Gull.  The Gull lets us pass, the Terns circle around and scold us.  

We head into the Nell's Island maze.  Right away, it is a good bird watching.  Juvenile Night Herons and mature Yellow Crowned Night Herons (a close look is required to differentiate juvenile Yell0w-Crowns from juvenile Black Crowns) are taking flight every few moments.  We don't count, but by the time we leave the maze it's probably been 30 birds.  The number of juveniles is up by a factor of ten over my last visit just a couple days back.  This happens every year as the fledglings leave the rookery on Charles Island, which is a mile away as the crow flies.  We do see a few mature Black Crowned Night Herons as we go.  And, we flush a small flock of a half dozen of what are probably young Snowy Egrets.  

After a short stop at Milford Point, we head east towards ten Egrets that are perched in the trees on the east shore, a short mile away.  The white birds do stand out.  Not far into that leg, we spot one of the two Long Tailed Ducks that I spotted a couple days ago while walking the point.  Long Tails winter on the sound and the two that I saw are the earliest that I've ever seen, by far.  Long Tails differ from other ducks in that their mating colors are drab and camouflaged while their winter non-breeding colors are bright and spectacular..  Today, it is just the female that we see.  Males have long tail feathers that the females do not have.  The Duck is not perturbed by our present and goes about diving and feeding while we watch.

Female Long Tail Duck

We continue across, pass by the Egrets and head back into one of the inner passages.  Another thing that is really noticeable are the calls of unseen Night Herons as we continue.

We head back up the river. 

 

Selden and Eagles

It's a great day with sun, light wind and temperatures that will top out around 80F, and I slept well last night, so I am full of pizazz.  

I put in at Elys Ferry.  I don't decide on my route until I am seated in the canoe and floating a few feet off  shore.  I had thought about heading down river and then into Lords Cove, but turned upriver feeling that I had unfinished business with the Selden Channel.  My last trip in there was low on energy and enthusiasm, and I got no farther than the Elf Forest. The tide is still low and there is some current in the river. It is less than 2:1, but it is noticeable.

The bottom of the Selden Channel

I start spotting Bald Eagles and Osprey along the beautiful forested stretch below Hamburg Cove.  It might be 6 Eagles, all immature, but it is at least 4.

A few motorboats pass, but only one is particularly obnoxious, and once past Hamburg cove, there's nothing going on out on the water except for a Cessna float plane that makes three landings and takeoffs.
I spot a mature Bald Eagle and another immature.

Selden Channel is absolutely peaceful.  It is quiet and the water surface is smooth.  There are a few Osprey around, as usual.  Instead of the Elf Forest, I head up into the dead side channel on the river-left side.  It's been awhile since I've been up there, and it usually has some beaver sign.  I flush a couple Great Blue Herons and a couple Green Herons, but see no beaver sign at all - no scent mounds, no drags, no lodges.  I'm sure there are some in here, but there are many narrower channels for them to be in, and those narrow channels are closer to the trees.

I head back out and continue up the channel.   I don't see much in the way of animal life - it is the peacefulness of the day that is the most remarkable.

At the top of the channel, I contemplate turning around and heading back down the way I came.  But, I decide not, partly because I'd like to remember that part of the trip the way it was.  So, I cross the river and head down towards Eustasia Island.  I spot another mature Bald Eagle along the way. Although I will see more boat traffic on this route, most of it will be on the far side of this wide spot in the river.  I recross the river below Brockway Island an follow that beautiful forested shoreline towards my put-in.  All goes well right to the last 50 feet when some dicknose (this is a 100% correct term for the bunghole) in a massive cabin cruiser throws 2 feet of wake just as I get to the shallow rock bar above the old ferry landing.  I cuss the asshole, and deftly jump into water to unweight the canoe and guide it by hand over the rocks.  

It's a good day. I've probably seen 8 to 10 individual Bald Eagles today.

Housatonic 4

I put in at Pond Brook. The parking lot, such as it is (it's a big field), looks a bit like a county fair.  Apparently, a hiking club and a mountain biking club are both using the nearby trail system. There are only two other boaters, a pair of dippers who don't look like they will go very far. 

I pass four more kayakers before getting to the confluence with the Shephaug, all dippers, but wonders of wonders, 3 out of the 4 are wearing PFDs.

The day is very humid, so much so that I feel lethargic.  The sky is overcast with cumulus clouds and while it opens up a bit as I paddle, it never gets less than 90% clouds. When I get to the main river, I let the wind decide on my course.  It seems that the breeze is slowly increasing.  It is coming up the river, so I head down, following the shore closely.  It is my "Natty Bumpo" canoe technique - weave in and out of the overhanging tree branches up close to the forest so that no one "out there" will see me, while I pay close attention to everything.

I see a few Osprey, a few Great Blue Herons, and a Mallard with seven ducklings in tow. 

The wind is at my back on my return, and it feels like 10-15 mph.  I pass a herd of 6 dippers. Two of them are working their paddle boards as if they were galley slaves.  Looks like fun (end sarcasm font).  

I'd expected more motorboats, but once I left the confluence, I saw no one until my return, and that was almost nothing. 

The Advice Column

It's a nice Friday. The temperature will be about 80F, the wind is moderately light and there is plenty of sun. Low tide is around 7:00am, and I don't feel like dealing with summer highway mayhem, so I aim for something close by where the tide will be unimportant.  I put in from O'Sullivan's Island near the top of the tidal section of the Housatonic.  There is a pretty good current at the start, but it fizzles away as I head downriver. 

At the confluence with the Naugatuck, I cut over to river-left where I can paddle in the shade of river bank trees.  The water is higher than I expected. That may be a combination of the incoming tide and extra water being released from the Derby Dam. I noticed yesterday that the reservoir above that dam was higher than normal.

My mind drifts off to deeper thoughts.  This happens often when I am canoeing.  This is my spiritual place.  It was not something I planned nor was it something I was looking for.  I bought a used canoe and put it in the water, and then put myself in the canoe, and I knew it was where I belonged. It just happened. 

Recently, I watched an interview with a well known mountain climber.  Currently in his senior citizen years, he still climbs and described it as his way of staying sane.  I wouldn't put words in his mouth, but I interpret that statement as, climbing is his spiritual place."  I did a fair amount of mountain climbing when I was younger. While there were many moments of excitement, fear, physical and mental challenges, there were on occasion, these moments that transcended the earthly bounds.  Usually, in what some place where you realized that you were so small as to be no more significant than a grain of sand.  It might be a deep in a gully with thousand foot high walls on either side, on a thin ridge with a thousand feet of air on both sides, staring into a seemingly bottomless crevasse. All it took was a moment to pause and see the wonder of the surroundings.  

After climbing, I road raced  bicycles.  It was competitive, intense, and often fun.  It was never spiritual.  When I quit that, I started mountain biking in the backcountry... not racing, but just exploring. A few times each year I went on solo rides to explore trails that were seldom biked or hiked.  Those rides often had a good degree of spiritual qualities.  Being alone in the backcountry will do that.  One more thing, I grew up going to a lot of church, and never found one thing spiritual about it. It was joyless doctrine and obedience and being told that you weren't trying hard enough if it wasn't working for you.  So, what's this all about?  Find a spiritual place. I don't think anyone will be able to lead you to it... you're on your own for that.  You'll know it when you get there.

I hear the raspy whistle of a Bald Eagle.  Near the sand bar that the fishermen often use, I find a mature Bald Eagle in a tall snag. But the raspy whistle alerts me to the immature fledgling perched on a branch below the adult.  Farther down, I spot another mature Bald Eagle. I continue past Wooster Island, where I often turn back, and continue down to the unnamed island. I circle that island and head back.  Four Osprey are feeding on the submerged sandbar above the island.  Instead of high dives, the Osprey are down low, four or five feet above the water, and making last moment dives into the water.  There must be a school of small fish, but the water is too murky due the recent rainfall for my eyes to spot them.  

I spot another immature Bald Eagle as I near O'Sullivan's Island.  This one is a second year - some white feathers coming in on the head and tail.

 

 

Third Try

The weather was a little unsettled, some rain, some chance of more rain, and some wind. I headed to the first stretch above the tidal section of the Housatonic where the best start point is Indian Well State Park. However, the roads at the Derby choke point were completely choked for some unknown reason, although I suspect some road repair due to recent rainfall, but that is just a suspicion. I diverted to the Eagle Scout put in, a bit farther up and on the near side of the river, but I got a good look at the water level from the road, and it was quite high.  This section of the river is an old style reservoir from the days when engineers couldn't build hundred foot tall dams.  The normal water level is probably no more than 25 feet above to original river and the reservoir is in a 5 mile long narrow valley.  This means that the water steadily flows in and out.  High water means a lot of water is moving through, and that means that there is a real current, which is damn stiff in the upper mile and a half.  So, I divert again.

I end up putting in under the highway and paddling down to the Wheeler Marsh.  The tide is coming in, and although the water doesn't look particularly high, it feels high for some reason.  Anyway, I have the wind at my back and the opposing current is of little count. 

Laughing Gull

Common Terns are still hanging about at the last dock, but today there are a couple small black headed Gulls.  I think they are Laughing Gulls.  The only good photo that I get is an almost mature bird, its head not completely black.  At the dock Osprey nest, there is a young Osprey that is not yet ready to fly.

The rising tide shows itself as I enter the marsh.  The Wheeler is a mile by a mile and a quarter and roughly oval in shape.  Tidal currents don't move upriver and downriver in most of the marsh.  Rather, they flow in or out, much like a sponge soaking up water.  In a falling tide, if you follow the current, you'll have a good chance of finding an exit.  In a rising tide, if you follow the current you might find an open channel, or you might end up in a long dead end.

I refresh the memory by exploring channels that I have not been in for a long time, knowing that there is a reason that some of them don't get visited.  I find a few dead ends, but I also find some passsages that I had forgotten.  I see quite a few mature Yellow Crowned Night Herons, and a few more immatures than on earlier trips. It is notable that the mature birds scare well before the immatures.

It starts to rain.  It is light rain.  I look around at the clouds and where I am, the clouds do not suggest a thunderstorm.  I do not mind canoeing in the rain, but the marsh is far too open for stormy stuff.  

All in all, it is a very nice trip and I have an easy return back to my start point.