Three Drummondeers - 29 November 2005
Bill Rogers
Note:
This
was published in the Appalachian Hiker,
the TATC newsletter. It is repeated here
to go with the photos, and for those who see this only
on the web.
The TATC Tuesday Group was
but three today - Ellis Malabad, Bruce Julian, &
myself. With a canoe and kayak we
journeyed down Railroad Ditch, West Ditch, and Interior Ditch to a launching
pier on beautiful
We eased along the southern
shore in the lee of the trees, viewing old piers and pilings from hunting cabin
days. Would you believe that a
Two white spots way out in
lake center were tundra swans. Seals,
when seen sunning on a log, turned out to be nimble otters that quickly
splashed into the brown water and disappeared.
Ah yes, there was some sun, weak though it was through clouds
above. A piliated
woodpecker was heard off in the forest, as was a robin perched high in a
treetop.
A blob in a tree, looking
like a large bird nest, turned out to be but mistletoe. Another blob became an immature bald eagle
with just a few white feathers. We
flushed him several times, as he flew but fifty to a hundred-yards before
perching and waiting for us to again come close. Finally, tiring of playing tag, he flew off a
bit farther into the woods.
On the East side of the lake
we turned down the Feeder Ditch, marveling at the autumn colors still on the
trees and the brilliant red holly berries along both sides of the ditch. A female bufflehead flew off at our approach.
At the Corps of Engineers campsite
we pulled ashore to stretch legs and utilize the ‘facility.’ We even met the miniature guard dog who
loudly announced our arrival. Water over
the dam was dark with tannin, and alive with white, blowing froth. We strolled about 2/3's of the way to US 17
on the Feeder Ditch Road, marveling at bear scat, and bear and deer Feeder
Ditch crossing trails. Machinery heard a
bit off in the woods turned out to be working on a water control project. Bulldozers and front end loaders, far off to
the north across a field, were performing wetlands mitigation work, replacing
wetlands elsewhere disturbed. Vultures overhead kept soaring when they saw we
were still moving. Going both ways we
spied an active flock of robins in the trees.
Back at the spillway, we
took advantage of a picnic table to consume various gourmet lunch items. A mini-thermometer on my daypack read
78-degrees, but it was not that warm.
The thermometer was exposed.
Another reading later, in the shade, revealed a pleasant 74-degrees.
After calorie packaging had
changed from plastic bags and the like to tummies, we climbed back into our
crafts for the paddle back out to the now windier lake. I’m glad we skirted the shore, our breeze on
the surface was a stiff wind at tree top level.
On the way back we spied a group of seven tundra swans. Bruce’s ‘ducks’ far ahead turned out to be
ragged stumps as we got closer. ‘Wood
ducks’ Ellis called them.
A big bird flushed from a
lakeside tree was an adult bald eagle that flapped away, then soared out over
the lake. A few moments later we again
played tag with the immature bald eagle.
We passed through a brief, light rain shower in the increasing wind. But it was a following wind, nice to have for
the last leg when the waves were 6 to (maybe) 8-inches, a few breaking slightly
as they rolled along. A peregrine falcon
overflew our little armada.
Back at the launching area
we beached our man-powered yachts. Bruce
used the mounted scope to look at the tundra swans, now in a bright sun
shower. He pointed to a brilliant
rainbow across the lake and claimed the ‘pot-o-gold.’ What a pretty sight, and such a fine view at
the end of a vigorous, but fun paddle enjoyed by the Three Drummondeers.
At the
There’s a lot of
information, and a nice colored map on their web site
(http://greatdismalswamp.fws.gov). Phone
calls result in friendly answers (757-986-3705).
The ride home was through
numerous rainsqualls. Our timing had
been fortunate.
P.S. Would you believe that I picked off a tick
that night, and another the next day ?
And here it was the end of November . . .