I've been late getting back out into the field, due to a hectic schedule, truck maintenance, and rather disagreeable weather (the usual heat and humidity this time of year, coupled with an unusually wet August). Hunting season begins in a couple of months, though, meaning there will be others carrying guns (and bringing their dogs) in the swamps and bottomlands with me.
Despite a slight easing of temperatures this week, there continues to be no really good day to search for the Ivorybill this month. Nevertheless, this past Sunday I headed out again, alone, bound once more for remote John Goff Slough in the south end of the Pascagoula River Swamp. I brought my kayak, fearing the rains had made parts of my route impassable; but I found the WMA road, under water for months earlier this year, still lay dry and open.
The clear, still dawn came at 6:21. A few minutes later, I was headed north on the trail through the old bottomland forest. The birds were quiet for much of the early morning; strangely, they only began really vocalizing later in the morning, after 10 a.m. Woodpeckers were conspicuously absent throughout my hike, with only 1 pileated and a couple of red-bellied woodpeckers showing themselves the entire day. Biting insects were a bit worrisome, unlike my prior visit. Luckily, much of my walk was in deep shade, but temperatures were likely never over 90 degrees (Fahrenheit). Not exactly comfortable, but pretty good for a Mississippi swamp in August, and made more bearable by occasional breezes.
I retraced the return hike my brother and I took on our prior visit to the Slough, and continued along the trail north. It brushed the northern tip of the giant old oxbow and bent east, following the course of the inner shoreline. I generally avoided the trail itself, which was thick with knee-high grasses and weeds; instead I held to the shade of the nearby swamp forest, where the going was generally easier along the narrow band of dry ground between the swamp and the forest edge. Eventually the trail played out, and I was forced to make my way through some difficult terrain, shin-deep flooded mixed swamp/bottomland forest, until I began seeing some familiar trees and, ultimately, the trail that would take me back to my truck. Bottomland tree species I observed included sweet gum, spruce pine, green ash (several individuals), water oak, willow oak, Nuttall's oak, shagbark hickory, and beech; the swamp forest was comprised, as ever, by baldcypress and tupelo.
I ended the 6.3-mile hike near noon. While had no Ivorybill encounters and found no evidence suggestive of Ivorybill-type bark scaling, I would very much like to kayak John Goff Slough.
Despite a slight easing of temperatures this week, there continues to be no really good day to search for the Ivorybill this month. Nevertheless, this past Sunday I headed out again, alone, bound once more for remote John Goff Slough in the south end of the Pascagoula River Swamp. I brought my kayak, fearing the rains had made parts of my route impassable; but I found the WMA road, under water for months earlier this year, still lay dry and open.
The clear, still dawn came at 6:21. A few minutes later, I was headed north on the trail through the old bottomland forest. The birds were quiet for much of the early morning; strangely, they only began really vocalizing later in the morning, after 10 a.m. Woodpeckers were conspicuously absent throughout my hike, with only 1 pileated and a couple of red-bellied woodpeckers showing themselves the entire day. Biting insects were a bit worrisome, unlike my prior visit. Luckily, much of my walk was in deep shade, but temperatures were likely never over 90 degrees (Fahrenheit). Not exactly comfortable, but pretty good for a Mississippi swamp in August, and made more bearable by occasional breezes.
I retraced the return hike my brother and I took on our prior visit to the Slough, and continued along the trail north. It brushed the northern tip of the giant old oxbow and bent east, following the course of the inner shoreline. I generally avoided the trail itself, which was thick with knee-high grasses and weeds; instead I held to the shade of the nearby swamp forest, where the going was generally easier along the narrow band of dry ground between the swamp and the forest edge. Eventually the trail played out, and I was forced to make my way through some difficult terrain, shin-deep flooded mixed swamp/bottomland forest, until I began seeing some familiar trees and, ultimately, the trail that would take me back to my truck. Bottomland tree species I observed included sweet gum, spruce pine, green ash (several individuals), water oak, willow oak, Nuttall's oak, shagbark hickory, and beech; the swamp forest was comprised, as ever, by baldcypress and tupelo.
Swamp forest about a half mile from the trailhead.
Typical views from the first couple of miles from the trailhead.
I was drawn to this dark creek by the sound of large animal activity on the near bank.
I decided to try to get a little closer.
He was only a small hog, though I could see his tusks. I was able to get quite close to him. (I would later cross paths with a sow and piglets, without incident.)
Much of the forest floor in the area is kept clear by frequent flooding from the River.
I was a bit surprised to find occasional loblolly pines in this area.
I was constantly drawn off the trail by the tranquil, almost eerie beauty of the swamp forest that has overtaken the old oxbow.
The golden silk orb weavers are lords of their kind here, but they are not unfriendly. Well, maybe a little.
The worst are the smaller species, whose webs I am often unaware of until they are stretched across my face or arms.
Polyphemus.
I felt the relict baldcypress watched me warily, though the water prevented my close approach.
I was as always excited to discover another Survivor. I am in awe of them, and their presence here brings me joy: for their kind survived a different holocaust -- the destructive logging operations of the 20th Century. It is ironic that they were spared due to what were seen as imperfections. Now these towering monoliths are living links to preindustrial -- and, in some cases, pre-Columbian -- North America. I am heartened that they still stand here, despite the petty machinations of Man.
My furthest point that day.
Shagbark hickory near the south end of John Goff Slough.
Moth has a bad day.
I ended the 6.3-mile hike near noon. While had no Ivorybill encounters and found no evidence suggestive of Ivorybill-type bark scaling, I would very much like to kayak John Goff Slough.
