At Farmington, Ct.

Canada geese on the Farmington River today. click to enlarge

Following a footpath that I often walk along the Farmington River I reached a point where the Pequabuck River meets the Farmington, as the Farmington veers north. There were easily 400 Canada geese in the river, dozens more arriving as I stood and watched. The river here is a mix of the river’s charms, quickwater in the middle, slower moving water closer to shore, a big long gravel bar that on this day, with moderate flows, was largely exposed. There were geese walking the gravel bar, geese floating along on the quickwater, geese dallying in the eddies and stillwater. Another hundred or so arrived as I watched.

Just north and east of here, a pink-footed goose – way far from its usual range – was spotted the other day within another large flock of geese, in the Somers and East Windsor area. I scanned the entire goose population on the river to see if there were any unusual geese, but this Farmington flock appeared to be 100 percent Canada geese. It is always a leap to ascribe human emotions to the rest of the animal kingdom, but this huge flock seemed to be enjoying the day, playing in the sunshine. They were honking, rising up out of the water and spreading their wings and breasts, sometimes just seeming to let the current take them where it would, then moving back upstream.

Last winter was snow and cold from the day after Christmas on into spring. So far, this winter is extraordinarily mild. I walked in mid-40s temperatures, comfortable in a fleece jacket. In another year, this would be a “January thaw.” But there is nothing to thaw. The landscape, of course, is dominated by earthtones, but on this day in this spot there was bright blue sky and enough pines to enrich the color. Maybe we appreciate color in the outdoors a little more this time of year. The tiny patch of bright red on the back of the head of a male downy woodpecker at river’s edge was, to my eyes, the best red I had seen all day, a good deal more rich and real than the crimson of the commercial signage on Route 4.

Mountain laurel shrubs are in full bloom in Connecticut, and worthy of a close look. Click to enlarge.

Mountain laurel is an evergreen shrub that during June in Connecticut produces large clusters of delicate white or pink, cuplike flowers set against sturdy, deep-green leaves. It is, to my mind, among the most spectacular in the pantheon of plants.

It is widely cultivated, of course, but wild specimens grace sections of Route 9 south of Middletown, the Merritt Parkway, Interstate 95 in parts of southeastern Connecticut, and butt up against many of the state’s secondary roads.

Laurel is so special, though, that it deserves more than a glance out the car window. A mid-June walk with the laurel ought to be as much a part of the rhythms of a Connecticut year as the mid-October bow to the fall foliage.

In my column Saturday, June 18, in The Hartford Courant, I suggest some special places in Connecticut to loll with the laurel, including the mountain laurel sanctuary in Nipmuck State Forest in Union, a remarkably peaceful place to let the laurel swoon your senses of sight and smell.

The laurel blooms are at their peak this weekend in much of the state. Bring the camera.

At Keystone, S. D.

A view of the rugged Badlands topography in western South Dakota. Click to enlarge.

Driving west on Interstate 90 from eastern South Dakota the terrain is mostly agricultural, mostly flat. It has been a cool spring, and the trees – sparse – are just leafing out.  Cool notwithstanding, rain has been abundant recently, the rivers are high and the grass is green. It is a pleasing agricultural landscape, if marred by literally hundreds of signs – you might see a half dozen in a single mile of highway – for Wall Drug, a tourist haven in Wall, a dusty small town notable perhaps only because it happens to be the closest town to Badlands National Park. In fact, Wall is named for the wall of rock that is central to the Badlands. The signs for Wall Drug, which is a connected series of wood frame buildings selling souvenirs, western clothing and furniture, and food,  continue on the westbound side of the highway for easily 150 miles, maybe more. It did not take long for me to find them annoying. Fortunately, Badlands-bound visitors can exit the highway and drive a few miles south to take a 30-mile long scenic drive through Badlands National Park, free of commercial sign pollution. The Badlands are a sudden and dramatic change in the scenery, truly a first taste of the mountain west for travelers arriving from the east. Spires of rock rise from the landscape, deep ravines below, rounded peaks in other areas, some with unusual knobs and protrusions on top. Woven in are gullies and expansive stretches of prairie, all of it enriched with more life than a visitor might expect. A bighorn sheep stood in the road at one point as we drove the loop. As I hiked one of the many trails during the visit, a western meadowlark sang from the very top of one of the stiletto rock formations. As if to emphasize that this is the real west, black-billed magpies, among the better known birds of the west, hopped and fluttered near picnic areas along the scenic drive.  Wall Drug, indeed.

Another view of the formations within Badlands National Park, South Dakota. Click to enlarge

The Badlands topography is all about erosion of soft rock, and as I hiked over some wet terrain among the peaks it truly seemed as if the standing pools of water were thick with eroded sediment. The books say the Badlands rock erodes at the rate of an inch or more a year – incredibly quick by geological standards. The evidence was at my feet.

Black Hills National Forest is less than an hour away, and Mount Rushmore, within the Black Hills, is less than 90 minutes away. It was quite cool in the Black Hills this morning with strong breezes, gusts at times. But the sky was a deep blue, and the National Park Service gate at Mount Rushmore National Monument was unlocked at 6:30 – before the park actually opens.

Mount Rushmore, Keystone, S. D., shortly after sunrise. Click to enlarge.

I was able to slip in, have the place to myself, and get some nice photos. The park service did a terrific job creating an elegant, tasteful and ever-so-useful platform for the public to view the decades-long work of Gutzon Borglum, who, with help, transformed a craggy mass of granite into the remarkably recognizable portraits of four presidents, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln. In the pantheon of American presidents, these four are surely among the greatest; a case can be made that they are the four greatest so far.

I ran into a park service ranger immediately, and told him I came through the untended gate. He said that was no problem. I was fortunate also in that there is railing at the end of the main entryway, just above the viewing amphitheater. The railing became my tripod – I placed the camera atop the railing and held it steady as I shot, which surely helped in getting crisp images of the mountaintop sculpture.

At 9:30 I arrived at the Big Pond Trailhead on the 111-mile-long Centennial Trail, a long, through-trail cut to commemorate South Dakota’s centennial in 1989. No sooner had I entered the woods from the parking lot than I spooked four young mule deer, yet another western species. This section of the trail is within the Black Hills National Forest, a forest dominated by the ponderosa pine, one of the signature pines of the west. Ponderosa pine has distinctive orange-ish bark, and clusters of long deep green needles. It is a handsome tree found in much of the mountain west, and always nice company on a hike.

At East Rock Park, New Haven, Ct.

A wood thrush in East Rock Park, New Haven, today. Click to enlarge.

East Rock Park in New Haven is an oasis of green amid an urban environment. Downtown New Haven is only blocks away, busy Whitney Avenue adjacent. During spring migration, it is a special place to walk for birders, as thousands of songbirds migrate through, especially during mid-May. I assume many of these birds have followed the coastline from the south, or perhaps just crossed Long Island Sound, and they pour into the park to refuel, happy to stretch their legs and grab a bite, much like travelers on the interstate highways.

A rose-breasted grosbeak in East Rock Park, New Haven, today. Click to enlarge.

A friend, Steve Kotchko, and I stopped by the park this morning, the first time in years for both of us. Among serious birders the park is well known, and the trails can be thick with them during May. One group of skilled birders passing through the park yesterday logged 18 warbler species alone. Steve and I didn’t come close to that today. We agreed that weather may have been a big factor. Winds came out of the north or northwest in recent days and may have discouraged migrating warblers from heading north. The wind shifted later yesterday, out of the southwest. That might have been all the encouragement the warblers and other songbirds needed to continue moving northward. In any event, our warbler count was confined to common yellowthroat, black and white warbler, redstarts and northern waterthrush. For all we know, another wave of birds could drop in tonight.

Warbers aside, the day belonged to the wood thrushes. Wood thrushes, cousins to the American robin and similar in size, have a cinnamon back and bold dark spots on a whitish belly. Unlike the robin, which loves a suburban lawn, the wood thrush hangs out in the woods.  In our visit of about 2 1/2 hours we saw wood thrushes repeatedly, even got some decent photographs, and heard their pleasant song time and again. A rose-breasted grosbeak was accommodating enough to drop down to a lower branch, becoming another photo-op. We didn’t see nearly the number of species we have seen other visits, but the temperature was in the high 60s, the dogwoods were in bloom, the trees just leafed out, the birds plentiful enough, while we walked and talked for much of the morning. Not a bad way to begin a weekend.

Purple trillium along the Appalachian Trail in Kent, Ct. Click to enlarge

The 2,175-mile-long Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine can be very steep in places.

Leslie Gordon will lead a yoga session on a flat, grassy area below Kent Falls in Kent Falls State Park. Click to enlarge

But there is a stretch of the trail as it passes through Kent, Ct., that is about 3 miles long and best described as gentle ups and downs as it hugs the west bank of the Housatonic River. It is a most pleasant walk any time of the year, but no more so than in May, when the trees leaf out and songbirds migrate north along the river by the thousands. Walk this section of the trail on a nice morning in late May and the songbird chorus might be the best a cappella performance you’ve ever heard. Bird watchers are crazy about this place.

How about a hike on this magical section of the trail, followed by a session of muscle-and-soul-soothing outdoor yoga on the grass at nearby Kent Falls State Park? Leslie Gordon and I will host the hike, Leslie will lead the yoga session. It is May 22, from 8 a.m. until about 3 p.m. Pre-registration required. We’ll hike about 4 miles round-trip, look at the wildflowers and warblers, follow it with yoga and a bring-your-own bag lunch at the park. Cost is $40 per person. Time permitting, we’ll also stop at Bantam Bread Company on the way back, where they have wonderful artisan breads and sweets. Details on the Enlightened Way Wellness Center website, where Leslie is the director of yoga programs.

Rain will cancel; we’ll likely make a decision the day before. Wear comfortable clothing suiting for hiking and yoga, bring water and snacks and a picnic lunch. We’ll car-pool from Enlightened Way, but hikers can meet us in Kent by prior arrangement. If you have binoculars you might want to bring them. If not, we will share. In addition to the birds, there should be bountiful wildflowers along the trail.

The Farmington Canal, which ran from New Haven, Ct., to Northampton, Ma., was completed in 1835. Despite the enormous work and expense involved, in practically no time it was obsolete as railroads emerged and flourished – and then, in the 20th Century, declined themselves. Kind of like what cell phones did to beepers.

At the edge of the Farmington Canal Heritage Trail in Cheshire is one of the original locks for the canal, built in the early 19th Century. Click to enlarge

Today, the canal, its towpath and the rail line that succeeded the old canal have morphed into the Farmington Canal Heritage Trail, a still-being-developed path for foot and bicycle travel. The goal is an unbroken 84-mile corridor between New Haven and Northampton. In Connecticut, 72 percent of the trail is done; in Massachusetts, 45 percent is done.

Two long stretches, New Haven north through much of Cheshire and from Farmington to Suffield, are paved and heavily used. It already has become an invaluable recreational resource used by many thousands of people – even a commuter path for some people.

I often ride my bike on a section of the trail in Farmington and Avon. It is tree-lined, flat and closed to motor vehicles. Just be careful when crossing roads and it makes for a most pleasant walk or bike ride.

My “Walkabout” Column in the Hartford Courant this month takes a look at the Canal Trail. It appears tomorrow, April 23, on the cover of the Features section.

Information on the Farmington Canal Heritage Greenway is available at www.farmingtoncanal.org and www.fvgreenway.org. On April 29, the East Coast Greenway Alliance will sponsor a 45-mile bike ride from New Haven to Simsbury to showcase the canal trail as part of the alliance’s national meeting in Simsbury next weekend. For registration and information, see www.greenway.org or e-mail info@greenway.org or search Facebook for “New Haven to Simsbury.” Phone is 401-789-4625.

At Jensen Beach, Florida

The Indian River Lagoon, stretching 156 miles from the New Smyrna Beach area south to the Jupiter Inlet below Stuart, is not truly a river, but a massive estuary along the Atlantic coast, rich with fish, bird, mammal and plant species. In fact, it is one of the great estuaries in the U. S. Much of it is only a few feet deep, but it is at least a half-mile wide and sometimes 5 miles wide, a place where fresh water meets salt. I often think Marcia Lapham-Foosaner knows this long ribbon of water as well as anybody, certainly the area she most often plies between Fort Pierce and Stuart.

Fly-fishing guide Marcia Lapham-Foosaner on the Indian River Lagoon in Florida. Click to enlarge

Marcia is a fly-fishing guide, and many if not most days she is on the water in her 18-foot flats skiff, often with a client, sometimes just fishing by herself. She knows the winds, the tides, the seasons, the feeding patterns and places; she always gets fish.

I joined Marcia on the water the other day with Sam Fried, a friend of mine from Connecticut who now spends winters in Fort Pierce. The wind was a little more than we might have preferred, but the day otherwise was warm, mostly sunny, and comfortable. In other words, beautiful.

One of Marcia’s specialties is fly-casting for pompano, a species that is reasonably plentiful in the lagoon and provides great sport. Marcia pioneered fly-fishing for pompano, far as I can tell, recognizing years ago that pompano are fun on a fly rod and can be taken in shallow water, often with flies that imitate crabs or shrimp. An outing with Marcia often goes like this: she approaches a flat or bar in her boat, scanning the water for signs of fish, anchoring the boat when things look right. Now, hop out of the boat, in waders, and cast, cast, cast. Sandy, open pockets within beds of seagrass many times will hold a pompano. She’ll point them out if you don’t see them.

Everyone seems to know her or of her, and, not surprisingly, I guess, just below the Ernest F. Lyons Bridge at Sewall’s Point is a flat named for her; Marcia’s Flat. She is not only a regular on the lagoon, she is a fixture of the flats. She keeps a close eye on the health of the seagrass beds, which suffer if freshwater discharges into the lagoon are excessive, as they can be at times.

Saltwater fly-fishing guide Marcia Lapham-Foosaner and angler Sam Fried with his first pompano. Click to enlarge.

Pompano are fast fish – sometimes skipping across the surface of the water when spooked – and powerful for their size. They are oval-shaped, with a deeply forked tail, with bright silver sides and a yellow wash to the belly and throat. They are one of the most desirable food fish in Florida, commanding absolute top dollar in the fish markets and restaurants. After a half dozen outings with Marcia, my sense is they tend to run 1- to 3-pounds in the lagoon, though fish over 5 pounds are taken. On a fly rod they make powerful runs. I caught a 5-pounder last year that, when the hook was set, took off on a reel-screeching run of what had to be 20 yards, maybe more.

The three of us spent the day fishing the shallows off Sewall’s Point, upriver of one of the lagoon inlets. Sam lobbed a fly into one of those sandy pockets in the seagrass and, sure enough – wham. We ended up with about a dozen fish, mostly pompano, but some blues and jacks among them, too. Sam took two pompano home for dinner.

Pittsburg, N. H., is a massive town, the size of many counties in the U. S., among them Hartford County in Connecticut. But it is in the far north country of New England, where winters are long and severe, and a long way from metropolitan centers. It has a population of only about 850 people. Everybody assumes there are more moose than people in Pittsburg.

A section of Garfield Falls in Pittsburg, N. H. Click to enlarge.

Indeed, in the pantheon of New England destinations, Pittsburg is the antithesis of a Boston, Newport or Mystic. For all its size, it has few paved roads. What it has is vast expanses of forest dotted and laced with lakes and streams.

Fail to pay constant attention as you drive Route 3 through town at dusk and, sooner or later, it will mean an ugly collision with a moose. It is difficult to spend a week in Pittsburg without seeing a moose. Seeing a half-dozen is more likely.

Pittsburg has amenities, including some comfortable places to lodge, scenic campgrounds, a half dozen restaurants and a general store. What really matters, though, and why people visit, is that Pittsburg is woods and water.

There are great views from the summit of Magalloway Mountain, a hike that many people can do. Garfield Falls is a scenic, peaceful spot reached by a long dirt road. The fishing is terrific, attracting fly-fishers from afar.

The soul and centerpiece of the town is the Connecticut River, New England’s largest and grandest waterway. The Connecticut is born in Pittsburg on a hillside on the Canadian border, where tiny rivulets drain into a body of water called Fourth Connecticut Lake, a name that suggests something far larger than what is is – a boggy 2.5-acre pond reachable only by a trail.

Check tomorrow’s Hartford Courant for my story on Pittsburg. It is the lead article in the paper’s Life section.

At Delray Beach, Florida

A green heron at Wakodahatchee Wetland. Click to enlarge

Sam Fried, a terrific birder from Connecticut now living in Fort Pierce, told me the other day of a great birding spot in Delray Beach, the Wakodahatchee Wetland, owned by the Palm Beach County Water Utilities Department. It is an artificial, freshwater wetland about four miles from the sea and created in 1996 as an end-stage for highly treated water from the county’s wastewater treatment system. The water is essentially clean, though nutrient rich. It apparently was not consciously intended as such, but the wetland, part of it a pond, has become a wildlife haven and one of the better birding locations in Florida. In fact, it is part of the Great Florida Birding Trail, a network of the prime birding locations. In any event, the water utility welcomes the public, and Wakodahathee now includes a three-quarter-mile-long boardwalk to access 50 acres of habitat.

I usually ignore man-made habitats, even large impoundments that create lakes, though I often did paddle my kayak in Lake Lillinonah in Newtown and Southbury, Ct., when I lived but a few miles away. I’m willing to make another exception here. We have to have wastewater treatment facilities, and if the end stage of the process is a useful and safe wildlife habitat, so much the better. Wakodahatchee, by the way, is derived from the Seminole language and translates as “created waters.” Nice touch.

I spent an hour walking the wetland, camera in hand, binoculars around my neck. What distinguishes Wakodahatchee is how close visitors can get to the bird life, often less than 20 feet. Pied-billed grebes were numerous, and close, as were coot and gallinule. Egrets and herons were everywhere. I didn’t keep track, but I likely saw 30 species in my brief time there. I also got a nice photo of a green heron.

Snow, snow and more snow. But as February approaches, the likelihood of some comparatively mild days – let’s say 25 to 30 degrees, perhaps even with sunshine – is there. Perfect for winter eagle watching.

Veteran birder Steve Kotchko of Wethersfield scanning the Connecticut River for bald eagles from the Haddam shore. Click to enlarge.

Connecticut has a very small but slowly growing year-round population of eagles, maybe two dozen birds last I knew, but in winter the population grows dramatically as eagles from Canada and Maine stream in during early winter looking for open water.

The Connecticut and Housatonic rivers are two prime winter habitats for these grand birds that feast on fish, but will eat many other things, including an unwary duck. They want open water for hunting, and they will be gone come spring.

This year long stretches of the Connecticut and Housatonic are frozen, pushing the birds into areas of open water, especially at the mouth of the Connecticut at Essex, Old Saybrook and Old Lyme.

My monthly Walkabout column in The Hartford Courant appears on the cover of its Living section tomorrow, Friday, January 28, with suggestions on where to access the Connecticut River to get a look at eagles. It also includes information on a couple of organized eagle watching opportunities – eagle watching boat tours out of Haddam sponsored by the Connecticut Audubon Society and the Bald Eagle Observation Area run by FirstLight Power Resources at its Shepaug Hydroelectric Dam in Southbury on the Housatonic River.