Bird Lake: 2 September 2019

I slipped away from the modern world for a few minutes on Labor Day to visit a large, shallow lake just to the north of Mississippi Highway 26.  A sign by the lone boat ramp marks the lake as "HWY 26 North Birding Area."  I asked a Mississippi Department of Wildlife, Fisheries and Parks (MDWFP) official, who had later stopped me for a permit check, what the name of the lake is.  "Bird Lake," he said. "We only call it 'Bird Lake.'"  Fair enough, I guess.  I already knew that the lake is definitely a local hotspot for waterfowl in the colder months, having often passed it by on trips to Dace Lake and Davis Eddy.

It looks inviting enough on Google Earth.  The land seems to sink into the rough shape of an oxbow along its southern line:

Bird Lake on Google Earth.  Big Lake is the slender body of water at the top of the image.

I quickly found navigating by kayak nearly impossible, as the waters open to sunlight near the boat ramp are immediately choked by a vigorous growth of lily pads and submerged timber.  I'd hoped to make for the northern and eastern reaches, but the morass steered me east and south instead, to a very nice, shady growth of baldcypress and swamp tupelo nearer the forest road.  (An air boat might be of more use here.)  I disturbed the breakfasts of numerous wood ducks, which skittered off into the secure north, broadcasting their alarm for the other denizens of the Swamp.  I heard more woodpeckers than I saw, although I caught a glimpse of a very large Pileated Woodpecker on a cypress snag along whatever passes for a shoreline to the north, before I passed into the shade of the trees.

 Typical view.

 Not sure why this photo turned out this way.

 Honeybees were everywhere abuzz among the lilypads.

 It was nice to see them.

The Davis Eddy Monster: 22 August 2019

My long-suffering 10' kayak, the Kuhn, had to undergo extensive repairs to the stern hull over the summer.  Years of being dragged over gravel boat ramps, and sliding over innumberable who-knows-whats in the dark waters of the Pascagoula River Swamp, had left the craft with a sizable hole that invariably meant several gallons of water had to be drained after each outing.

Partly to test my patch, partly to pursue another hobby that has developed in the past year, and partly to just be out in the Wild again, I took the Kuhn down to Davis Eddy, a small lake just off the east bank of the Pascagoula, above Mississippi Highway 26, which marks the northern line of the Stronghold.  My brother Brian and I had been to Davis Eddy a few years ago, in one of our first forays into the Pascagoula River Basin.  The forest around the Eddy is rather young, growing in might the farther one goes to the south, nearer the Stronghold; but there are some stately cypress domes there, and the Eddy is small enough to make for a nice, manageable morning paddle, though my earlier visit was marked by the appearance of a small alligator, which always gives me pause.  (Brian, much to his surprise and mine, encountered a very large one on the trail near Hutson Lake during a solo hike earlier this month.)

Partly out of habit, I first drove down the swamp road towards Hutson Lake.  Driving back up it a few minutes later, I noticed some commotion on the road ahead, which at first I took to be several white-tailed deer frolicking or fighting.  Drawing nearer, I discovered a doe defending her fawn from a large coyote.  The deer bounded off to my right, and the coyote vanished into tall grass to my left.  I suspect the doe and her fawn lived to fight another day.

The roads were empty of other activity, human or otherwise.  Numerous small hawks flushed from the surrounding bottomland forest.  I arrived at Davis Eddy to find the lake to myself, and would encounter no other humans during my time in the swamp, one of the benefits of being out there in August.

There were many birds out, and though my camera battery immediately registered in the red, I managed to take a few photos.  I was very frustrated that I could not manage a decent photo of a beautiful male Prothonotary Warbler, who followed me among the cypress boughs as I began to make my way along the western edge of the Eddy.  Small fish were leaping out of the water, one slapping against my upraised oar, startling me.  Somewhat later, slipping along the shoreline, I marked a large ripple at the water's edge, and looked down just in time to see a long, narrow shape pass beneath my kayak:  the unmistakable outline of an alligator.  I felt that it must be the same alligator Brian and I had spied on our visit, now grown somewhat to around a respectable six feet.  I decided to call him the Davis Eddy Monster, and his appearance kept me on edge for a while afterward, until I saw his head again some 30-40 yards off, monitoring my activity.

I am glad to say that the patch on my kayak held, at least for the time being.

 Now I have as a goal a good photo of one of these beautiful guys.

 Rose mallow.

 This anhinga was being harassed by a little blue heron.

 Little blue heron.

 I like the contrasting lines of color on the base.

 The Davis Eddy Monster.  (Or:  "Monster.")

 

 A family of white ibis near the boat launch.

Along the Dragon's Belly: Fafnir's Lake, 18 June 2019

Brian and I returned to Horseshoe Lake on 18 June.  Some weeks before, I'd noticed on Google Earth a small, heavily wooded lake to the north of Horseshoe; its shape suggested to me a somewhat stylized dragon.  With no name appearing on Google Earth, I decided after consulting with Brian to call it Fafnir's Lake.  It was a short trip, heavy from the beginning with the promise of rain, and the heat and biting flies were nearly unbearable.  We only just made it to the "underbelly" of the dragon; and as the forest there seemed very young, we cut our trip short, having just enough time to scavenge some driftwood from the other end of Horseshoe Lake before a heavy downpour that would not abate for several hours.

All photos in this post, unless otherwise noted, are by Brian Carlisle.

 It's a bit of a stretch, admittedly.

The humidity was ridiculous.  (My photo.)

 

Sigurd, a very large baldcypress we encountered on the trail in the vicinity of the Dragon. 

 There were numerous box turtles on the high ground between Horseshoe and Fafnir.

 Brian has an eye for the small things I often miss.

Horseshoe has some of the best forest views along its shores of any of the lakes in the Pascagoula River Swamp.  Just my opinion.

Thick muck on the southwestern end of Horseshoe Lake.

 We found some nice pieces of baldcypress driftwood.

On the bluff overlooking the River.

 Upstream.

 Sandbar directly across the River.

 Looking downstream as the rain began.

 

I took this photo of a sweet gum as we were pulling away from Horseshoe Lake.  I could not get a good shot because of the downpour.  I suspect it is damage from a tree that fell, though I did not see the remains of one.

Brian and I would like to thank all who continue to visit this blog, and all past support and kindnesses that help inform this blog's perspective.  Our relationship with the remarkable Pascagoula River Swamp -- now in its fifth year -- is changing in some ways, though we continue to explore it with cameras in our hands, mindful of the messages reaching our eyes and ears.  My goal is to continue to share our journey here with all the clarity, humility, and reverence I can.

-- Chris

In Memory: Bob (Robert) Russell

Thanks for all the kind words, optimism, and encouragement, Bob.  You are missed.

Boneyard Lake at dawn.   Pascagoula WMA, Mississippi.  (Photo:  Brian Carlisle)