Canoe This

Few things in life match the smooth quiet release of a canoe as it is maneuvered away from the shore to glide smoothly past the Memorial Day fishermen hanging patiently on the dock.  It takes little effort to move swiftly across the river between a few holiday boaters and the noisy ski-doers into the quiet marshlands where only the shallowest of floaters can go.  Some may find the mud and the prehistoric water plants too strange for beauty.  But, of course, I know that all you have to do is keep your eyes open for treasures along the way, like this gaggle of butterflies playing in the mud...

...or this Red-winged blackbird that gave the most piercing call above us as we scooted beneath his tree.  The whistle was so loud and clear that at first we did not recognize the normally familiar song.

Soft grasses in bloom

Fragrant honeysuckle that takes your breath away

Wildflowers across the pond

Now aren't you glad you came along and you didn't even have to paddle, or wear sunscreen, or spray on insect repellent!

Summer Sauna

I took a canoe ride on a fresh water tributary that emptied into a brackish marsh the other day.  We started very early before the hot iron of the sun could bake our shoulders and arms and turn the air into thick mist.  Even though the sun was just breaching the eastern horizon, the air was already a wet and warm washcloth against our skin.  Red wing black birds were singing broadly like brass trumpeters across the marsh grasses.  Other birds, not seen, were twirping and tooting hidden deep in the center of the marsh, maintaining their mystery.

Gliding quietly and slowing across the broad green mercury surface our profile was still high enough to disturb the numerous herons who were picking out their breakfast snacks in the shallow areas. The surface of the water was moving with life and they had plenty in the breakfast buffet to choose from.  They would depart swiftly but elegantly as we got nearer while sometimes scolding us with a sound that could only have come from their ancestor pterodactyls.

Ospreys, also planning breakfast, had staked out their posts on eroded stumps of waterlogged trees in the middle of the water.  They sat in frightening, dangerous elegance surveying their domain.  There were dozens of aquatic species to choose from on the breakfast menu.  (Don't forget to click on the photos...I just love sharing.) Next post I will reveal the surprises we got while crossing from the river into the marsh.

Being a Sneak

We were in the canoe and paddling our way down a thinner and shallower branch of a new river between high grasses. The air was heavy with moisture and all was quiet except for the whistle of a distant osprey high in the sky and the tiny buzz of some marsh insects. The marsh grass was closing in and hid the view that was going to appear around the bend. I guess it was too warm for bugs to be biting to distract our attention.

Hubby saw this lovely green heron before I did and slowed the canoe ever so carefully so that we could coast closer for a better shot. The photos are not as good as they should be, but that is because I was too busy studying the bird and not focusing on the shots! I probably had the wrong camera setting and that is why I am not a professional! The bird surprised me by not flying away as we paddled even closer. The larger herons in our area are very wary. He flew to another nearby cross branch and then stretched his neck as shown in the photo below almost as if to see if another canoe was to follow behind us.

He was elegant and I thank him for waiting a little while before he flew on over the marsh grass to greater solitude.

The Rapture of the Rapters

Canoeing along one of those Mid-Atlantic Rivers with an American Indian name during the last of the least hot days of summer, we were privileged to see an osprey/bald eagle altercation high in the sky above our canoe. A male osprey was defending its young in the nest from the bald eagle trying to land in the nearby tree. The activity was just like watching a military airplane 'dog fight' as the osprey spiraled higher and higher and screeched louder and louder trying to get above the larger and more powerful eagle and then spiral diving toward its back, just missing each time, perhaps only trying to drive the eagle away. This drama continued for several minutes while the young osprey in the nest made a little frightening 'cheeing' noise. The female mother osprey swooping nearby in the sky kept cheering daddy on while hovering high over the nest and calling to the little one to keep low. Finally the bald eagle admitted defeat and flew away looking for a less challenging perch.

This is a young bald eagle we came across on the same canoe trip just getting its adult colors. If you click to enlarge you will see the mottled coloring.

This is an adult bald eagle in flight.

This is the young osprey wondering if we also were going to attempt to eat him. The expression on his face is so readable.

Another young osprey in another nest further up the river. Actually if you look closely you will see there are two osprey in this photo. (Some photos can be clicked on for a better view. For some odd technical reason I sometime lose the link when uploading photos.)

Low Country River Cruising

These photos are from a canoe trip we took along the May River just outside of Bluffton, S.C. This is the beautiful 'low country' with big oak trees, hanging Spanish moss, and small historic homes. The time is spring before the sound of cicadas and the bite of bugs. Everything is still comfortable and quiet on the river. The oyster dotted marsh is home to the following lovely birds.

Great egret

Green heron---though he looks blue.

An elegant great blue heron who let us coast ever so close.

An Evening

The fragile beauty of a summer evening as the sun begins its low glow above the silhouette of trees was the perfect time for sitting in a coasting canoe.

For a while we chased the reflection of the half moon up the river until we reached the end of a finger where the sanctuary begins. Small schools of bait fish bubbled ahead on the surface on each side of the bow. Quiet evening air was punctuated by the raspy call of the blue herons behind the marsh and later by the lyrical beauty of the warbler's call. We looked up to see a juvenile bald eagle without his balding color glide to land gracefully in the crook of a nearby tree becoming camouflaged against the darkening shadows.


The pink and purple surface of the water was gently rippled by the cool and welcoming breeze that also kissed our faces. Windows from houses nestled against the sheltering trees on the distant shore glowed warm and golden as the evening lamps were turned on.

Three blue herons glided smoothly ahead of us following the shoreline. One landed at the top of the tallest tulip tree and remained like a sentinel arching his neck and balancing his head in perfect yoga pose as we slid past below.

The sun's bright glow diminished rapidly, and reluctantly, we turned back skirting the gray fingers of fallen trees near the shore as we headed toward home.