Little Blue Herons

I left the house without a plan.  I veer off the interstate making a snap decision when I cross over the Menunketusuck.  It's been a long time since I was in there.

It's not a long river, but if you take in the two meandering side channels that feed into the main river, it makes a good day trip.  I start by heading upstream.  A mile up is a dam with a good long pond above it.  The last bit is a nice forested section that almost makes up for the background highway noise.  But my real reason is to see if there is any chance of a portage into the pond.  Unfortunately, the one side where one could portage is fenced off.  That's that.

I head back past the put-in, past an Osprey nest with two healthy chicks, and around the first big bend - that's where the river gets good.  The few houses are left behind and I enter a high salt marsh of spartina patens - "salt hay".  I learned something about Willets here, because there are never any Willets in this first section although everything is right for nesting except that the forest is only about a hundred yards back.  Forests and the trees at the edge of the forest make a Willet's ground nest an easy target.  There are a few Willets in the marsh, but they're down a ways where the marsh is wide open.

The air is hazy, which is holding the temperature down some.  It looks like humidity, but the weather report later says that it is haze from western forest fires.

One of the old shoreline cabins has been removed.  The wildlife refuge has been buying properties on the east side.  There's just one more old house to go.

Great Egret

I turn up into the east side channel.  There are several Great Egrets in the area today.  I spot a couple Snowy Egrets and one Little Blue Heron that is in the middle of a phase change from immature to adult.  It's the first time that I've seen this.  It is half blue-gray, half white. The surprise is that the coloring isn't random but a distinct pattern with white bars on the wings...almost as if it was a different species.  I flush that bird and one of the Snowy Egrets several times as I paddle in and out of the side channel. They are making an effort to stay together.

Adolescent Little Blue Heron shaking its stuff

Two Little Blue Herons

I drop down to the railroad bridge spotting a couple more Great Egrets and an Osprey.  The current under the railroad bridge can really move during full flood or ebb, so this is far enough. 

Mature Little Blue Heron

On the way back out, I get to see the Little Blue Heron in the open on the bank with two Snowys, except the Snowy's are actually immature Little Blue Herons in their white phase.  Snowys and Little Blues are the same size but Snowy Egrets have black bills and bright yellow feet while Young Little Blue Herons have green legs and a bill with a black tip. While I am photographing them, an adult decides to show up. Now, I have four Herons in all the possible age phases.

Adolescent with two first year Little Blue Herons

 I leave them behind and push up through a few more Great Egrets to get back to my put-in.

Science Day

Eventually, I end up at the Salmon River.  I made an effort to get into a middle section of the Hammonasset but the only possible access required rock climbing with a canoe on my shoulders. Then, the main road to the Salmon was being cleared of a landslide from the recent storm.  As they say, opportunity is just a problem in disguise.

Pickerelweed close up

It's quiet and calm...really calm, like abandoned calm.  The Connecticut River is high, freshet is the term used around here. It's about 2 feet above normal, an opportunity to go into the swamps that boarder the cove.

I spot six Osprey.  They are all adults and anything resembling a nest is rather ramshackle.  I windstorm came through about three years ago and blew most of the Opsrey nests out of the trees, a fatal event for the chicks.  The adults built new nests right away but in different locations.  I expected them to enlarge them the next year and to start breeding.  Their efforts were somewhat half-ass.  This year, none of the nests are in any condition to hold eggs.  It's hard to say exactly what's going on other than that storm event had more effect than I would imagine.  

Beaver dam

My first stop is to check on a beaver dam that I spotted not long ago.  This dam is unique in my experience.  All other dams that I've seen are on flowage - they hold back a small creek or river to flood nearby land and form a pond.  This one is in the swamp (true swamps have trees) that forms a long spit separating the Connecticut from the bottom of Salmon Cove.  There is no defined waterway or current.  This dam was built to catch and hold high water events.  It's particularly interesting because they didn't have running water to direct their efforts, they just built a dam - long term thinking, especially if you think about how long this dam has to be to do any good.  I paddle up the obvious beaver swim channel, the top of the dam is just an inch or two above the current high water level. It's an easy crossing into the "pond".  I crunch through some dead brush that looks suspiciously like a winter food stash.  I get about a hundred feet before having to turn back.  Great beaver habitat, poor canoe habitat.  As I paddle back I see the well camouflaged lodge right next to the winter food stash and about 25 feet in from the dam.  I follow the dam south about a hundred feet kind of admiring the muddy manufactured shoreline.  I go back and cross the dam and paddle out through a rich bloom of arrow arum - an large arrow shaped leaf with a purple bottle brush flower...the bumble bees are happy.  Then it occurs to me that the muddy top of that dam was brand new - no plants growing in it.  The beaver raised the dam to match the most recent freshet levels.

Well camouflaged lodge

The mud is the raised top of the dam

I paddle a quarter mile along shore and tuck into the next swim channel.  There is a dam and lodge here as well and I suspect that this section of the dam connects with the previous.  Confirming that has to wait for autumn when the brush dies back.

The science done, I turn up the river.  There is almost no wind.  The clouds are almost dramatic - overcast with lots of different shades of gray, nothing that is too threatening.  I set my goal for the Leesville Dam.  I flush a Great Blue Heron now and then, but even the wildlife is calm.

It's a big word for me, but this is tranquil. 

The water is backed up to the dam and there is just a little current to contend with before eating my lunch and paddling back out.

As I paddle the south shore of the cove, I get surprised by an immature Bald Eagle.  It is 20 feet straight overhead when it leaves its perch...big bird.  There is a second immature on the last stretch to the take out.

Bird Watching

We started later than usual, timing the trip for a low tide to catch the waders hunting from the exposed silty edges of the marsh.  I expected our start to be near slack tide, but there was still a fast downriver current, which I imagine had to do some with the amount of water coming through the Shelton dam, as we noticed on yesterday's trip.  We arrive at the marsh as fast as I ever have. I figure we were moving at about 6mph. More than the speed, we're surprised that there aren't any other boats in the area.  We joke about Admiral Mimosa and his wayward Mai Tai Navy.

Right away we are spotting Great and Snowy Egrets, Great Blue Herons and Osprey.  The Osprey chicks are standing up in the nests and will be flying soon.  They are close enough to full size that we can only tell the difference by watching their behavior.  

We head up the inside channel of Nell's Island.  It's low tide and a trip around the marsh isn't possible as the innermost channels drain out.  While we're poling through a short stretch of shallows, we retrieve about 200 ft of high strength fishing line that some nice fisherman has abandoned.  We spot a few Night Herons - not as many as the Egrets and GBH's.  The Night Herons might be juveniles but I can't be sure because I haven't been in here recently.  Anyway, they lack some of the vibrant colors that are typical.

We head up to the point and circle around adding a couple dozen more birds to the count, which we're not actually counting.  There are several Terns hunting for fish.

The poling section already has 3 more inches of water and as we head back the current gradually picks up, in our favor.

Wheeler Marsh

High Water

We start at the Boy Scout put-in.  The portage is shortened by about 10 yards by higher water than I've ever seen.  This is the one "reservoired" section of the river that will run a current.  The two sections above are both larger while the section below is tidewater.  We turn upriver against a 2:1 current.  Our goal is to go up below the dam and play a bit in a short section of rocky class 1 whitewater, but I know the crux will come where there an underwater shelf that accelerates the current.  Besides the faster current at that spot, the shelf runs bank to bank with no eddies to rest in - you have to paddle right through it for about 75 yards.  We keep going because I'm hoping that water will have backed up enough to flood out the shelf... things you can't learn without looking.

In the last eddy below the shelf

A nice long eddy has formed on the river left bank.  This lets us take a breather and coast up to the fast water.  Then, we head out into the current and power paddle.  S thinks we're making headway, but you have to ignore the water and watch the bank.  We are making headway - about 2 inches for every paddle stroke.  I know this isn't going to let up - we'll be past the shelf sometime next week.  So, we veer off and ride the current back.

It's an easy downstream paddle.  The current is a bit faster than a fast walk.  It'll be a short trip as the Admiral Mimosa has ordered the Mai Tai Navy to set sail.  Three pontoon boats and some other flotsam pass by.  We wonder what marketing wizard decided to name a brand of pontoon boats, "Aqua Patio".  That just couldn't have helped sales.

Above the Water

Before I can get into the canoe, a large tree limb or tall dead snag crashes down unseen through the forest canopy  a hundred yards to my left. I know then that I have come to the right place at the right time.  I spot two Great Blue Herons tucked into the shade at the water's edge.

Out of the cove and heading down the main river, it is calm with an imperfect reflection of all that is above. The humid cloud fog overcast is reflected on the water.  The rocky shore is doubled to appear as a well built dry stone wall.  I would normally paddle close to shore under the edge of the canopy as if I was a forest creature, but out here I have the distinct feeling of paddling not on the water, but rather some ten or a hundred feet above the surface.  Gliding where no one else can go.

It takes an hour and a half to spot the first other person - a guy putting slowly about in kayak. It will be the only boat I see until I get back to my put-in.

The low water below and the extra runoff coming through the cascades stops me a hundred yards below my usual turn-around.

For the day I count at least 15 Great Blue Herons, 2 immature Bald Eagles, one mature Bald Eagle and a Kingfisher.

After the Storm

July 9
Yesterday, the remnants of a hurricane twirled through the area dropping five inches of rain in 24 hours. But today the forecast was for light north winds, moderate temperatures and sun.

We put in near the bottom of the big river with a plan to explore some of the tributaries in the area.  M had requested that I take us to someplace with birds and it just happens that right across the channel from the launch is Great Island, which has about 30 Osprey nest platforms.  Great Island is pretty much, Osprey City. At this time of nesting season, the chicks are big enough to poke their heads up about of the nest and look around.  And at any time there are always several adults airborne within sight. Soon the chicks will be standing on the nest in clear sight and eventually starting to work their wings in preparation for first flight.

With a rising tide I steered us up the Blackhall River.  It's a small river with several shallows that keep all but the smallest motorboats out.  We spot a few Willets.  A Great Egret with a couple Snowy Egrets standing close together helps us to spot an adult Little Blue Heron that is mixed in with them. Adult Little Blue Herons are Egret-sized and blueish gray.  The first year Little Blues are white and you have to check bill and leg colors to differentiate them from the Egrets.

We paddle the full length of the Blackhall.  As we go it closes in on us and becomes more intimate, a bit more wilder, a lot less visited.  We push into the end of the marsh at its head until we are in sight of an impassable culvert.  It is the first time that I've seen a noticable current up this high, a product of yesterday's rainfall.  The extra effort to maneuver and push through some brush is driven by a lot of flowering plants - wild rose, pickerel weed and honeysuckle.  The cattails and arrow arum are also doing well.  The stillness of the high cattail marsh is holding the scent of all these flowers.
Unlike much of the country, we've been having a good growing season.  As we head back out we explore a few side channels.  It's a fine day to be poking around.

Back at the big river we turn upstream.  I expected to have a slack tide when we got back to the big river, which would help us make good distance and then, as the tide turns, carry us back to our put-in with the north wind at our back.  Instead we find a pretty stiff current coming at us.  I have to do some figuring on this phenomena, but it can only be the runoff from yesterday.  I check the river gauge later and confirm that upstream the river is running five feet higher than normal.  It's not a flood, but it is a lot of water and it just overpowered the usual reversal of current that the tide produces.   We work our way up to the Watch Rocks by hugging the shore and tucking into eddies.  Then we head into the short Duck River. It looks familiar to M, but I know she hasn't been here before because I've only paddled up here 2 or 3 times myself.  With that, we head back out and ride the current down to the put-in.

Scantic Revisited

I returned to the Scantic with M who seemed in need of a day in the canoe.  Rather than explore the next section upriver, which would have the possibility of running into some impassable obstruction and short circuiting the adventure, I decided to repeat the same stretch that I did last week.  Thunderstorms two days ago have added a good foot of water to the river, a fact that became obvious when we got to the first shallow patch a hundred yards from the start and we found that we had enough water for a full paddle stroke.  

The current stayed steady and solid - a 2:1 flow with less pooling in the slow sections.  The first big log, which I slid under before, now had to be dragged over.  I cleared a couple rotten limbs and we slid the canoe over, the only trick being not to slip off the muddy bank.

We paddled into the current and solved most of the world's problems, as anyone would expect.

I told M that I would like to know what the USGS gauge height was for the river, and almost immediately I noticed and said, "there's a gauge."  M hadn't seen one before.  It was a tall concrete building - something like a cement phone booth.  M looked for a gauge marker, but I explained that inisde the building would be a gas cylinder and some pressure instruments. The river height is measured by how much pressure is required to push a bubble of nitrogen out of a submerged tube.  It was all hopeful until I got home and found out that this gauge stopped working thirty years ago.  

Broad Brook was backed up enough that, out of curiosity we managed to get up a short ways. It became impassable soon enough.  Turns out that there is a working USGS gauge somewhere nearby on Broad Brook.  I do not know why the USGS went to the effort to put it there.  Unfortunately, the gauge doesn't correlate with the Scantic water level.

Just past the Filter Beds we had to wade knee deep in fast current for about 50 or 75 yards.  Fortunately, the bottom was good walking.  The river returned to a wilder self as we continued,  not that the current got faster, because it actually mellowed out some, but the surrounding forest became something deeper with the illusion of wilderness.  At the next fast section we were unable to bust the current.  The bottom was uneven - cobbles and small boulders and rather than wrestle with it - this was close to turn around time - we spun back.  

The paddle out was swift.  With frequent deadfalls to avoid, it was a good opportunity to teach M some new skills.  We worked on back ferries, setting the canoe up ahead of time and letting the river do the work and getting a feel for how the current moves or grabs the canoe. It's all about efficiency - working when you need to work, drifting when you can.  You can race down rivers like this at full speed, but you learn more by patiently picking your way through junk.  It's good to have that in your back pocket for when you really need it.