I’ve been writing this blog about the pond for more than five years. Sometimes, recently, I’ve wondered if there is anything new to share. Fish, birds, fox, flowers, turtles, muskrat, snakes, coyotes, beavers, nests, frogs, butterflies, dragonflies, leaves, the sky, the water, clouds, the sun, the full moon, and the half moon have all been posted about, some several times. I’ve written about and posted photos of the shore, the scrub, the reeds, the muck on the floor of the pond, the stuff floating atop it and the island that sits in the center of the photo below – an island covered in rounds of shrubs and trees. It is nestled into a corner, and might not be recognized as its own little land mass unless you walk around the pond. The island provided something new to post about.
At its closest point, the island is only about 25 feet from the shore. But until this week, I’d just once stepped on it, and briefly – one winter day as I trudged through snow and over ice, and dragged my heavy boots and self through the deep snow along a short stretch of the island’s shore. It was a magic moment for me, to set foot on the island.
Sometime last year, I noticed that there seemed to be a square-shaped tree trunk at the end of the island closest to the shore. I’d zoom in with the camera and try to see it more clearly. Last fall, I realized there were two such “trunks”, spaced about four feet from each other. This spring, I spent much time positioning myself to try to take clear photos through branches directly in front of me and through more obstructing branches on the island – photos like the one above – photos that showed there was a sign held by the two posts behind a bushy evergreen. It became a mission for me to try to determine what the sign said. I dragged one of my girlfriends on a walk one day, and studying our camera shots, she and I could make out the letters I-S-L-A-N-D at the end and a distinct K at the start. My daughter, whose outlook must be somewhat jaded, suggested it said, “KEEP OFF ISLAND”. I hoped not.
A friend (actually, a friend of 32 years who was also my husband for 26 years) offered to bring his SUP (stand up paddle-board) to the pond so that I could journey to the island. Pictured above is Jack, who is used to using the board in the choppy waters of the Atlantic seacoast. While he was fully at ease standing on the board in the mellow waters of the pond, I felt most comfortable kneeling as I balanced and paddled around. In the photo below I’m passing between the island shore and the pond shore.
We took turns going to the island, which is probably 60 feet long and 40 feet wide. And, yes, we found that there is a sign on it, and a very nice one. With paddle board well anchored, Jack used a saw and took off the lower branches of the pine.
And lo, the island has a name! It’s Keresey Island! A beautiful wood carving of a male mallard decorates the sign. I’m going to ask around to figure out how the island came by this name.
As Jack worked he discovered a nest with eggs…and a golf ball…in it. I’ve since researched and identified them as Canada Geese eggs (correction below!). There are eight eggs, and one golf ball!
I toured the island at my leisure, loving the cool,
sun-dappled interior and its soft pine bed.
A pretty, white wildflower was in perfect bloom.
And a round mound of moss was warmed by the sun.
I was able to study the work of the beaver
and marvel at the size of the tree it felled some months ago.
In the photo below, I stood where the heron often lands and I imagined seeing myself walking along the shore of the pond, camera aimed in the direction of where I stood.
Jack became the cameraman as I tooled around the pond in amazement and delight. The large snapper passed a foot below the board. I was filled with joy at seeing it far from shore and swimming in its water world.
At its deepest, I think the pond is not more than ten feet in depth.
Much of it is two to five feet deep.
After seeing the goose eggs, I studied the shore for more nests,
any kind of nests, but didn’t see any.
In the photo below, I had a brand new view of the living quarters of the red-winged blackbird families. This area of reeds fascinates me. It sits in one corner of the pond and already this year, the males are sparring over it and the females hide deep in the shadows.
If you’ve followed this blog for some time, I think you can imagine the tranquil pleasure I had paddling around the pond. It was a perspective somehow both familiar and new. I saw so many of the things I’ve written about and taken pictures of for years. But I felt much more a part of their world.
This experience began a year ago when my observation skills, which have come a long way in the last five years, finally spied the oddity of a square “trunk” obscured by pine branches on the island. Planning for closer examination and identification led to a great discovery – the island’s name, and a tremendous view – from a paddle board – of the pond I love. Thanks Jack.
*********************
A correction about the eggs:
I returned to the pond with the SUP (stand up paddle-board) a couple of days after I took the photos of the eggs and I looked again at the nest. Low and behold, a female mallard sat upon it! Just goes to show, don’t put much credence in what you read here! Consider this the work of a naturalist-in-training! Here she is!
And while this mama sat patiently and protectively,
a new mama, below, nervously took her brood of nine ducklings around the pond.
As I paddled at the far end, a red-tail hawk swooped down from a nearby tree, its wings wide and its claws threatening. The female mallard flapped her wings and I cried, “HA! HA!”, and the babes were spared. This mother has no small job in keeping her offspring safe.
Jack took the photo below of the hawk, back on its perch, just waiting.
(Click on any photo in the post
and scroll through the enlarged pictures.
Photos of me, by Jack.)
SilverLining 