May 18, 1855. P.M. Boat to Nut Meadow.
Large devil’s-needle. .... Saw the yellow-legs feeding on shore. Legs not bright-yellow. Goes off with the usual whistle; also utters a long monotonous call as it were [sic] standing on the shore, not so whistling. Am inclined to think it the lesser yellow-legs (though I think the only one we see). Yet its bill appears quite two inches long. Is it curved up ? Observed a blackbird's (red-wing's) nest finished. At Clamshell [Bank] a bay-wing sparrow's nest, four eggs (young half hatched) - some black-spotted, others not. These last warmer days a great many fishes dart away from close to the shore, where they seem to lie now more than ever. I see some darting about and rippling the water there with large back fins out, either pouts or suckers (not pickerel certainly). Apparently their breeding-season arrived. .... Black scrub oak pollen. Fir balsam pollen; .... The clump of golden willows west of new stone bridge is very handsome now seen from hill, with its light-yellowish foliage, because the stems of the trees are seen through it.
-H.D.T.
May 18, 2021.
At 1:30 p.m. it’s hot and bright under huge white and mottled-gray cumulous clouds. The fresh smell of grass is in the air as I walk my kayak on wheels past flowering gardens with daisies. The crickets chirp loudly in the taller grasses along the railroad causeway on Main Street above South Bridge, where I launch onto the Sudbury River.
Amid the light honking calls of geese and chucking of red-winged blackbirds on the water, I see what I first think are fluttering yellow butterflies above the leafing dogwoods with taller willows behind. I soon realize, however, that the gusts of wind today are launching the yellowish maple keys, which are spiraling as they relaxedly descend into the river. A great mass of the maple seeds floats on the water, collecting particularly on the eastern shore. Just upriver, 16 Canada geese are densely packed within a thickly covered maple seed area, apparently feeding on them. I paddle toward the geese and am able to get very close; the birds being very unhindered by my presence, merely paddle around me and keep feeding. As I paddle farther upriver, I can see the movement and slight splashing of active fish under the water.
Water plants today are more fully developed, including the cup-like leaves of pickerelweed on stalks above the river. The yellow flower buds of the yellow pond lily (Nuphar lutea) are showing next to their green pads. Within a small swamp white oak at the edge of the river meadow on the western shore, I see a yellow warbler. The oak is adorned with new leaves and hanging pollen. Underneath, fallen pollen collects with a plethora of maple keys caught against branches in the water below.
Just before Clamshell Bank, I find small blue and green narrow-winged damselflies (Thoreau’s “devil’s-needles”) flitting about the plants at the river’s edge. One lands close on a waterlily pad, and curls its tail to touch and prod the water and plant. I land at Clamshell Bank just before the Rt. 2 highway bridge to examine the white flowers of the common dewberry, a cousin of the blackberry and raspberry. I also find a rare American elm tree with its own brown wing-like seeds hanging at the end of its branches; the seeds also cascade into and float on water. While yesterday’s dispersal was of fluffy dandelions seeds, today it is of tree seeds and pollen! At the end of Thoreau’s career, after Charles Darwin’s publication, he became focussed on seed dispersal. See Faith in a Seed.
Past the bridge, two bright orange birds - Baltimore orioles, no doubt - chase each other around a massive tree and across the river. Near the exit of Nut Meadow Brook into the river, I see a great blue heron wading in the water, hunting, its orange legs hidden below the surface; the heron is my wading bird of the day rather than Thoreau's wader - lesser yellow-legs. I almost miss the bird at first for it is standing frozen still and camouflaged at the edge of the dogwoods. I am able to gently float very close to it for a photo, before it squawks loudly and flies off in retreat. A fuller-size blue tailed dragonfly darts back and forth just above the current.
As I paddle back, seeing again a great blue heron at the edge of the shore in Thoreau’s Willow Bay and another flying overhead, I think with gratitude of my easy access to these waters. Just behind peoples’ houses, neighborhood roads and even the highway, I can find a relative wilderness so close. Going everyday into these wild locations with careful attention, I can understand what is here so much more. And with more detailed understanding, the more beauty there is to enjoy.
The geese await me by my western shore exit upon my return.
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