What's Up in the Marsh

Like usual, I head down from under the highway bridge. It is peak high tide with cloudy skies, a temperature of 60-ish and a light wind that has no effect other than to cool the skin. 

At the top of the marsh, the Swan is busy adding a level to her nest to keep the eggs out of the water. I head, first, up into Beaver Creek. I have spotted a half dozen Yellow Crowned Night Herons almost right away, and at the next bend, just when I'm thinking I've seen a dozen, one that I am watching flushes and four more that I didn't see take off. Almost all the way in, I find a Black Crowned Night Heron up in a tree. It is my first BC of the spring. I see fewer Black Crowns in general, which I don't think reflects the actual population. The two birds have different feeding and perching habits, and I suspect that my canoe habit dovetails better with the Yellow Crowns than with the Black Crowns. 

Black Crowned Night Heron

I head to the Central Phragmites Patch and while retrieving some junk, I notice that the nearby Swan nest is empty, in fact, I can't actually pick it out from the rest of the marsh. But, the resident Swan comes out from behind a stand of reeds to see what I am up to. I suspect that there are brand new cygnets in there, and I back away.

The third nest, near the Refuge boat launch, is empty as well. The adult pair is about 50 yards away herding four small cygnets, which are probably less than a week old.

Great Egret

Otherwise -
With the high tide, I can scan across the top of the spartina, which is no more than 8 inches tall. There are quite a few Mallards out away from the main channels. It's easy to spot their heads in the grass. They are not in flocks, but in pairs.
Least Terns are back. I spot four during the trip.
I see just 3 Yellow Legs. On my previous trips I have seen flocks of 12-20 at a time. So, it seems that they have headed up into Quebec for nesting.
Over near the bottom of Nell's channel, a Black Bellied Plover flies by. The Willets are around here as well, by the sound of their calls.
There are more Osprey in the area than can be accounted for by the local known nests. Most of them are on the east side, either in the trees or soaring high overhead.

Yellow Crowned Night Heron

Midway through the two hour paddle, the skies clear and the wind shifts, now coming out of the south. So, I have a nice tailwind as I paddle out.

Lover's Leap

I put in just below the four span truss bridge, the only bridge for ten miles in either direction. The day is overcast, something like 70F, and with a very light wind coming down the river. There is an unusual number of people about in either fishing kayaks or pontoon boats. There is a kayak fishing tournament and the pontoon boats are taking part in river clean-up day. 

I cross the river and follow the river-right shoreline. Just a third of a mile up, I find a white tail deer tucked in along the bank. It's missing some hair on the side and it doesn't flee when I get close, so it might be sick. If it's still there when I return, I'll call it in to the state. Not much farther on, I spot four Canada Geese herding six goslings. The young are probably 10-14 days old. And, a half mile up from them, I find a pair of Geese with 3 goslings that can't be more than a few days old. Otherwise, I spot a Kingfisher here and there and a Great Blue Heron once in awhile. I do flush a second white tail. It takes two leaps up the hill before stopping to see what I am. I pass by and it returns to the midday business of digesting whatever it ate this morning. Deer bed move and feed in the mornings and evenings, and they bed down in midday, focusing their energy and blood circulation on digesting the rather woody material they're eating.

I find a Swan nest on the island just below Lover's Leap.

Lover's Leap is a narrow gorge in a high ridge that the river passes through. Before this section of the river was dammed, there was a ten foot waterfall somewhere in the gorge. This made for a productive fishing spot and the local archaeology shows that Native Americans lived in this locale starting not too long after the Ice Age glaciers retreated. I don't know where the actual sites are, but the terrain would be suitable both below and above the gorge.

I paddle through the gorge and as far as the mouth of the Still River before turning back. Just across from the gorge, I stop and chat with a guy who is trying to keep Geese off of his shoreline grass. He has some fake Owls that don't work - I fill him in on just how good birds are at recognizing other birds. Of course, Canada Geese aren't particularly afraid of Owls or Eagles because tangling with an adult Goose is a good way to break a wing, which is, of course, a fatal injury. I continue on down following the river-left shoreline.

I get a lucky spot, finding an immature Bald Eagle in a tall and wide background of forest. 

I cross the river to check on that first deer, but it has moved off, a bit of a hopeful sign.

Second Choice

I headed to Essex where I could mix some big river and big marsh paddling. But, standing at the water's edge, it was clear that the wind was something double the weather service prediction, and I would have a grueling paddle no matter which direction I headed. I loaded back up and headed off to my windy day paddling spot. (The wind was in fact double and then some - 18mph gusting to almost 30)

After my small detour, I put the canoe into the Mattebasset, in the usual spot. The water was lower than I've seen it in some time, having had several spells of high water this winter. It was more or less at a normal level. I took stock on the idea that I've been in here when the water was a dozen feet higher than it is today. There is little wind.

This is the typical scene in the Mattebesset

The Mattabasset is a placid river passing through bottom land forest, mature swamp, and open freshwater marsh. It's only problem is that it isn't long enough, but that is a common issue with small Connecticut Rivers. There is a small current today, which is about as strong as it ever gets - it's nothing to fret over.

The day is overcast with a filtered sun and a temperature in the low 70's. There's no wind in the forest and very little in the open marsh. It is a pretty fine day for paddling. I spot a few Great Blue Herons, and hear a good number of song birds, which are difficult to locate with the trees leafing out.

About half of the known beaver lodges look abandoned - piles of sticks without the binding mud, but not yet collapsed. The Point Lodge looks like it might be in use, but it looks a bit haggard. The big lodge just above the last bend before the mouth of the river looks solid. But, when I head up the Coginchaug, the Big Lodge looks abandoned having lost its mud and some of its height. The unusually frequent flooding this winter probably convinced the colonies to seek better living locations. Even with the couple of lodges that looked lived in, what I noticed was a lack of the little signs. I don't find any left over peeled branches or fresh gnawing. All of the beaver signs like chewed trees are silt covered. I get up to the power lines on the Coginchaug before finding two small scent mounds.

This is the typical scene in the Coginchaug

 
I turn back and head out when I get to the first log jam on the Coginchaug.

Chipuxet

We put in at the bottom of Worden Pond, an egg shaped and shallow body of water in the middle of the swamp that is known as western Rhode Island, although I suppose that Rhode Island is so small that most people don't think of it as having a "west". It has been some time since M was out with me in the canoe, so it seemed a good idea to go somewhere she'd never been. 

The day is mostly cloudy with a temperature of about 60F. An afternoon South wind of something under 10mph is predicted.

We follow the east side of the pond for about a mile and half to where the Chipuxet River enters. This is a trick of colonial era thinking, I imagine, as when the same river leaves Worden Pond, it is the Pawcatuck River. Anyway, I have been here before, having come down the Chipuxet and knowing enough then to go out into the lake so that I would be able to recognize the river mouth, all 20 feet of it, amongst a shoreline of low and featureless swamp shrubs if I should approach from the south. I find the entrance right away although we're not d-sure until we've paddled in about 75 yards. 

This lower part of the Chipuxet is very narrow with hardly any straight sections. It is a busy and somewhat slow paddle. We start seeing Great Blue Herons, a lot of Great Blue Herons. We might be flushing some of them, but mostly they are taking off well before we can be seen. Of course, there are constant Red Wing Blackbirds, some Goldfinches and a few Mallards. We also regularly pass a beaver lodge and several fresh scent mounds. The first beaver dam requires both of us to step out. It is only a couple inches high, but it is solidly built. The second dam we manage to get half way over, so that only I need to step out.

When we get up to the first road bridge, I can see that the water is about a foot higher than when I've ben here before. We duck under the bridge and head up the third of a mile to Thirty Acre Pond, which is held back by an excellent beaver dam that is 2-3 ft in height. It has been here for many years.  That is far enough and we turn back, both of us noticing just how much current there is as the canoe glides with moderate speed through the narrow channel.

The Dam at Thirty Acre Pond

The wind has come up while we were in the swamp. It doesn't count for much there, but it dows at Worden Pond.  It is blowing straight out of the south and the shallow pond has a good harsh chop to it. We follow the shoreline fairly close both to get some shelter and to stay in the shallows as the water is still fairly cold. An immature Bald Eagle overflies us. We have a mile and half to go into the wind, which is definitely in the 15 to 20 mph range. It's a good workout.

The Shipwreck Reach of the Connecticut

I put in at a new spot, a bit of State land in Cromwell.  The river is running faster than I expected and I regret not looking at the gauge this morning (it's at 8.5 ft - 2 to 3 ft above typical). On top of that, there is a stiff wind coming downriver that doesn't feel like the weather report (it was 10mph gusting to 20). The plan is to go upriver to the Rocky Hill Ferry. I decide to beat my head against it instead of retreating to the familiar nearby swamp. 

I hug the shore as much as possible to catch the slowest current and get some protection from the wind. Unfortunately, on this side of the river there are quite a few fishermen and I have to swing out into the main current to avoid their lines. After grinding that out for a half mile, I cut across the river where I won't have to dodge fishing lines.

The first mile takes more than 45 minutes. But, I start finding slack water in the wobbles of a natural shoreline. I can handle the wind, or the current, but not both, at least for very long. 

Fortunately, the wind starts to drop off. I make Gildersleeve Island in an hour and a quarter. The island is not quite 2 miles from my start. Across the channel from the island is a small sterile concrete bridge with a creek flowing out of it. I've seen it before and intended to explore it some day. (This is Carr Brook)This is the day, I guess. 

 

Carr Brook

The passage under the bridge goes from wide open river to a narrow forested creek. I feel like I've discovered a secret. Fifty feet in, I spot a little head looking at me. White chin hairs - it's a mink. Mink are curious critters and from the relative safety of its burrow entrance, it watches me as much as I watch it.

I continue up the creek a short ways. I spot a male Wood Duck - good terrain for a Woody. It has some "almost" blocking dead fall that I push past. After a few hundred yards, I decide to consult a map when I get home to see if there's enough possibilities here to make numerous log crawls worth the while. 

Back at the river, I continue upstream. The wind has died to almost nothing and the sky has gone from mostly clear to overcast. But, that first hour took the stuffing out of me and the Rocky Hill Ferry isn't going to happen. About halfway to the Ferry, I turn back. It's a very easy paddle back.

Camoflauge

I put in for a quick trip through the local big marsh. It is a very high tide, with only the last bit of it coming in. The sky is overcast, a thick humid type of cloud that can become a thunderstorm if the clouds stay put and the air currents go more vertical. It is in the mid 60's with a light wind coming up the river.

33 Sandpipers

I pass a Yellow Crowned Night Heron at the top of the marsh. Then, I head over to the fully flooded Nell's channel. In fact, the entire marsh is well flooded with the only dry spots being the phragmites patches, which don't survive regular periodic flooding. These high tides compress many of the birds that are in the marsh. While Ducks, Geese, and other water birds don't mind, the waders - Herons, Sandpipers, Willets and Yellow Legs, are on high spots waiting for feeding to resume.

Greater Yellow Legs (there is a Lesser Yellow Legs)

Paddling past a long floating mat of last year's phragmites and spartina, I notice a couple Sandpipers. Then, as my eyes are fixed, I realize that there are easily a hundred Sandpipers on this fifty foot long mat. And, that is how it goes whenever I am close to one of these mats. I spot a pair of Yellow Legs, and it becomes six or eight. I spot a Sandpiper, and suddenly ten of them flex their wings. Anything with a speckled pattern on the back practically disappears.

The lower marsh is flooded so that not even any of the spartina breaks the surface. I spot and hear a flock of Brandts over by Milford Point, while heading towards the east shore. Then, I cut down toward the central phragmites patch, where I find the nesting Swans busy raising their nest. Then, over to the east channel and back up the river.

The Quasi-semi-every-so-often Shelton Run

I put in under the highway and head upstream. It is a fine day with some wind and temperatures in the low 70's. The tide is still coming in.

The weather and tides have finally met in my comfort zone. Once in awhile, although not very often and definitely not every year, I paddle up this lower section of the Housatonic pretty much as far as one can. I set out with the tidal current pushing me up. The wind is in my face, but at its worst, the two seem to balance each other. Of note, there are two new Osprey nests at the old power station, making three total.

At the unnamed 6th island, a Bald Eagle flies over. It looks to have brand new white tail and head feathering as the underside color of the wings is still patchy.

At Wooster Island, a pair of orange flashes whiz by... Orioles. I don't see them all that often and it is always a treat. They refuse to pose for a photo.  A second mature Bald Eagle flies over.

The wind calms down above Wooster Island. I continue all the way up to O'Sullivan Island, in Derby. This is where the Naugatuck joins the Housatonic. Going up this part of the Naugatuck is a grim, pointless paddle between towering levees, and there is just a quarter mile or so to the Shelton Dam on the Housatonic, so this is a good turn around.

 

Derby

The return starts easy with a gradually increasing current behind me. Unfortunately, below Wooster Island, I get the predicted wind shift and will have a stiff headwind for the rest of the trip. I pay for the easy outbound leg as the current helps, but doesn't make up for the headwind. It is a game of paddling in as strong a current as possible while hiding from the wind as much as possible on the west shore.
A third Bald Eagle soars high over as I approach Pope's Flat.

It is an 18 mile trip with a steady 6-1/4 hours of paddling.