Spider Moon: Stronghold, 19 August 2017

My brother Brian Carlisle and I returned to the Stronghold on August 19, after many months' absence.  Our goal was a quick survey of our old haunts, to get a feel for the area after our unusually wet summer, and to reconnect with what for us has become a deeply spiritual place.

A fast-retreating quarter moon before a hazy dawn found us far along the old trail I call Hollow Man Road, which cuts north-south through the Hutson Lake sector in the north-central Pascagoula Wildlife Management Area (WMA).  Little if any wind moved for the duration of our hike, and the humid air warmed quickly.  The denizens of the Swamp kept mostly silent and largely to themselves, though we encountered numerous golden silk orb weaver spiders, almost comically fearful of us despite their menacing appearance.  It was a quick trip down to the relict baldcypress Hollow Man, where we set up a brief Watch in the deep woods along his small lake.  A pair of Pileated Woodpeckers livened things up for a few minutes, and I spotted a lone Yellow-crowned Night Heron wrangling something reddish out of the muck on the shore opposite.  Some distant, heavy tapping, likely Pileateds at work, gave us pause; and the drumming of red-headed woodpeckers at times rang out over the still bottomland to the north and east of our position.  After an hour or so we decided to seek the air conditioning of Brian's truck.  On the way, we spotted at least two juvenile Little Blue Herons and a white ibis haunting still waters among the trees, but few other feathered things aside from the usual crows and cardinals, and no mammals at all.  It truly is the Spiders' time, and they are welcome to it.  It is short enough.

From Hutson Lake we drove north, crossing Mississippi Highway 26 to another section of the WMA.  We put our kayaks in at Dace Lake (or Dacy Lake, depending on the map), a small oxbow we have hiked near and visited a number of times, but never kayaked.  It was around ten in the morning, and nothing was moving around the lake, save a small family of white ibis and a few turtles.  Repairs I made over the summer to my boat, the Kuhn, seemed to have been successful, confirming the craft will be able to bear me again beyond terra firma, as needed.  As usual, I have some ideas where I would like to explore in the months ahead.

 The old field between Hutson Lake and a network of sloughs that stretches south to the Lord God Tree, Elephant Man Swamp, emptying into the Pascagoula between Pierce Lake and Hollow Man Lake.  Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

 Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

 Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

 Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

 Near this year's new beaver dam.  Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

 The dam has been broken, and is possibly now abandoned.  Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

 Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

 Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

From our vantage point by Hollow Man Lake.  Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

 Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

 Dace Lake launch.  Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

 The lake lay still and silent.  Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

 I seldom manage to get this far ahead of my brother.  Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

 Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

 Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

 Photo:  Brian Carlisle.

I had to move fast to snap this photo.  As I've noted before, it is difficult for me to manage to photograph wildlife from the kayak, which seems to have a mind of its own at such moments.

The bottomland lies still and dreaming while August simmers, but change is afoot.  The days are already cooling here, enough to take the edge off a hot day hike in the Swamp.  After this rainy summer, I wonder what challenges we will face come fall and winter -- paths newly revealed, others now hidden, all at the whim of the River.

I am studying my maps.

Kints in Print

My brother and I are honored to have our story in the Summer 2017 issue of Mississippi Wildlife, the annual magazine of the Mississippi Wildlife Federation.  The article, "Adventures in Old Ivorybill Country," provides a short narrative of the Ivorybill, its relationship with mankind, and a very brief account of our own experiences in the Pascagoula River Basin, with Brian's photographs offering glimpses of the magnificent Swamp.  My wife Susanne, and my sister-in-law Lindsey, were kind enough to proofread the article before submission, for which Brian and I are grateful.

It is only the first week of August, but the shadows of early morning and late afternoon hint of September; and I am restless.  Norman MacLean wrote, "I am haunted by waters."  I am, too; though mine are less noisy, are deeper and darker, and are less respectful of boundaries.

'The impossible missions are the only ones which succeed.'  -- Jacques-Yves Cousteau

Swamp Trek -- The Next Generation

My brother Brian and I took our children -- his son Gavin (3+), my stepson Aslan (13), and my daughter Belle (12) -- out early on the morning of April 1, for a taste of the wild Pascagoula River Basin.  We explored along the River itself at Sandy Wash Bend; stopped at one of the Rimes Lakes, where we were watched by a pair of swallow-tailed kites; and went for a short hike on the south end of the Stronghold, where the old forest road bisects Elephant Man Swamp.  We visited Hollow Man, who allowed the children to stand inside him, and hiked a little further up to the new beaver dam.

It was a long drive down for them, and they had to get up very early.  We were done and headed back north out of the Basin by noon.  We all had a great time.  The kids felt the current of the longest undammed river in the lower 48 states, and experienced firsthand true swamp and bottomland forest.

It was a day Brian and I could have spent exploring a new corner of the Pascagoula River Swamp, or monitoring the Stronghold for a few hours; but I hope bringing the children to this place will yield results far beyond my field of vision.

On another note:  if you are not already aware, our friends at Project Coyote recently obtained exciting new audio from their search area.  Follow the link here to open in a new window, or click on the link to their site on the right of this page.

Swamp Watch: 22 March 2017

I have been absent over-long from the Pascagoula Swamp, due largely to obligations to my day job and the demands brought by Spring to small-time gardeners like myself.  I managed to get back afield for half a day, though, and headed down to the Hutson Lake sector of the Pascagoula WMA, an area I call the Stronghold.

Much of our efforts in the Pascagoula River Basin have been exploration -- surveying remote pockets of bottomland and swamp forest habitat.  I doubt that we will ever visit every corner of the Basin, but as the number of places new to us decreases, the most promising ones become fixed as sites for longer-term survey and surveillance.  The Stronghold is such a place.

Deer were moving near the trailhead in the pre-dawn gloom.  I was far along the old logging trail I call Hollow Man Road at sunrise (around 6:30 A.M., Central Standard Time), bound for the network of sloughs where I'd had an intruiging but inconclusive experience almost a year ago.  Temperatures were in the upper 60's (Fahrenheit), with a nice breeze.  Early cloud cover cleared out by mid-morning.  Bird activity was very high, though I do not think the Spring warblers have yet arrived; and of woodpeckers, I saw or heard all the usual suspects:  downy, red-bellied, red-headed, and pileated woodpeckers, as well as flickers.  I believe the yellow-bellied sapsuckers have left these parts, though, and there was no sign of hairy woodpeckers, which are in any case uncommon to rare in the Basin.

A great egret and a pair of catcalling kingfishers greeted me as I settled into a nook at the base of an oak overlooking a sun-dappled slough.  It was 8 A.M., and I planned on a 2-hour watch.

You can follow some of my progress along Hollow Man Road in the next four videos:

In April of last year I found a sweet gum that appeared to me to exhibit dramatic woodpecker scaling.  I have since concluded, after some correspondence with a forester friend, that lightning likely was the cause, at least initially; though it is possible that some of the scaling was done by woodpeckers, I can not with any degree of certainty attribute it to Ivorybills.  The sweet gum has died.

 Excavation into the still-hard sapwood.

 Large sections of bark are beginning to separate from the sapwood, although the bark still retains much of its strength. 

 Superdominant red oak near the trail. Spruce pine in foreground.

 New and impressive beaver dam.

Observation post for my two-hour watch.

Moon over the Stronghold.

I was treated to a nice show after only a few minutes of sitting very still:  a pair of otters.

They didn't spend much time watching me, and went on about their business.

A barred owl came along not long after the otters disappeared.  He spied me soon enough.

I guess it decided I was up to no good.

A strong breeze created a brief shower of catkins.

Unlike my still hunt there last year, I heard no kent-like calls or Campephilus-style woodpecker knocks, and had no possible visual IBWO encounter.  But on the hike back north I was treated to this:

 The swallow-tailed kites have returned to the skies above the Basin.

As well as a feral hog just off the trail, a blackish individual I believe I may have encountered in the area before.  The wind shifted as I tried to get a photo, though, and it trotted off into the underbrush.

I hope I can get back to the Stronghold soon for another still hunt like this, while the days are still pleasant, and the forest loud with the conversations of birds.

Breakout North: John Goff Slough, 2 March 2017

I was fortunate enough to be able to get out into the field this past Thursday, after a three-month absence.  My good friend Richard Ezell and I headed back down to the south end of the Pascagoula WMA, where I hoped to do a little more exploring in the area between John Goff Slough and the Pascagoula River.  (I have since discovered that the south end of the Slough may also be referred to as Files Pond on old USGS maps, but I will continue to refer to it as John Goff Slough.)  The remoteness of the area and the excellent habitat continue to intrigue me, and I also hoped to perhaps find a way around the northern tip of the ancient oxbow, and to explore along its old outside shoreline.

The day was clear and cool, and blustery.  The swamp and bottomland forest was noisy throughout our hike with the groan and crack of the great trees as they bent in the wind.  We bore northward from the trailhead, between Lice Lake and the River.  Beyond a long, slender lake (unnamed on Google Earth), the trail ended; but we easily navigated the relatively open bottomland, keeping the River in view to our left.  Broad swathes of sand in the woods hinted at past flooding by the Pascagoula.  Eventually we found a trail again, which turned out to be one I had walked before.  We continued northward, and I was pleased to find that the trail did indeed wander around the northern tip of John Goff Slough.  Richard and I followed it another mile or two before venturing out into the muck of the old lake bed for a closer look at the baldcypresses and tupelos, then turned to follow the trail back.  Our total hike that day was six miles.

The water of John Goff Slough looked very low to me, though the River and nearby lakes seemed full enough.  We found no woodpecker scaling of note, and heard no kents, SK's, or DK's; but we saw and heard Pileated, Downy, and Red-bellied Woodpeckers, along with sapsuckers and flickers.  I continue to be impressed with the quality of the habitat there, though, and I hope to return to continue my survey of the Slough's outside shoreline.

Near the trailhead.

Pascagoula River from the east bank.

Typical view of the bottomland between the River and John Goff Slough.

Richard and a very large water oak at trailside.

The area to the north of us is clear-cut, privately-owned land.

Old woodpecker cavity on a downed baldcypress.

View of the dry swamp forest from the muddy northern edge of John Goff Slough.

Frank

Today the community of IBWO searchers, researchers, and enthusiasts is sadly diminished with the passing of our friend, Frank Wiley of Louisiana.  Our deepest sympathies are with his family and friends.  Mark Michaels of Project Coyote has posted a tribute in words and photos. 

Memory eternal, Frank.  Tell Mr. Tanner and Mr. Kuhn we said 'hello.'