Deer Pond
The early morning hours of the Birdathon are the most productive for picking up bird species. My time so far was spent using an illegally marked trail to get from Raven Lake in the Five Ponds Wilderness to Big Bad Leroy Bog within the Pepperbox Wilderness with disappointing results of not even 30 species so far.
So why am I still resting at Big Bad Leroy Bog already?
With the no new species during my brief rest, there is no reason to dawdle any longer. I gather my gear, throw my pack on my back and head west into the forest, toward Sunshine Pond, my next destination, leaving the large open bog behind for another year. The climbing begins immediately upon leaving the bog, through mostly coniferous forest. The farther I get from the bog, the more hardwood components appear in the forest, until conifers once again take over, becoming thicker as a clearing appears in the canopy beyond.
Instead of attempting to penetrate the thick conifers, I stay just beyond them to the southwest until finally a beaver dam of epic proportions appears. A pond with many scattered snags within is held back by a series of dams. The initial and most substantial dam holds the majority of the pond at bay, while several other succeeding ones present in the swampy area downstream do their best to contain any spillage.
Section Stats:
Date: May 16, 2015
Length: 2.8 miles (4.7 total daily miles; 9.2 total trip miles)
Difficulty: Moderate
After crossing one of the lesser dams, I make my way up and along the opposite shore. Several northern juncos scatter in multiple directions, their white tail feathers flashing as the make their exit. Suddenly a duck flies off from the pond while some trees obscure my vision; it is long gone by the time I struggle to get my binoculars out of their case on my hipbelt.
I curse another lost opportunity.
The ridge overlooking the pond’s southern shore provides a vantage point to survey the open water below. As I continue westward, a solitary sandpiper flies off from my side of the pond to the opposite shore, landing on a small island of vegetation. While scanning the shoreline for the sandpiper, I spot a tree swallow perched silently on a snag, while a common grackle calls nearby on a different dead tree. A yellow-bellied sapsucker chases a female hairy woodpecker from another snag, giving me two new species in a single sighting.
That is four new bird species is a single scan of the pond. Not bad. Not bad at all.
Other species at beaver pond include: red-breasted nuthatch (calling), ovenbird (singing), black-throated blue warbler (singing), hermit thrush (singing), and black-and-white warbler (singing).
The black flies are epic at the snag-infested beaver pond. Their annoyance keeps me from dawdling too long, so I turn west toward Sunshine Pond as they are much more tolerable when I keep them guessing as to my next move. The young hardwoods along the western shore of the pond quickly give way to mature hardwoods once I clear the sphere of beaver influence. American beech, red maple, and yellow birch dominate in the forest now.
Soon a clearing appears downslope to the south, indicating Sunshine Pond is growing closer. I immediately recognize this grassy open area as an eastern inland bay of Sunshine Pond, so I descend down into it for a quick tally of any species in the area. The open area yields a few new species, but I only spend a short time walking along its edge, before returning to the forest interior.
The bird species in the inland bay of Sunshine Pond are: rose-breasted grosbeak (singing), swamp sparrow (singing), Canada warbler (singing), gray catbird (calling in its characteristic cat-like manner), white-throated sparrow (singing), common yellowthroat (singing) and a possible ruby-throated hummingbird (buzzing around my head from behind but never catch sight of it).
Beaver dam
Returning upslope and leaving the bay behind, I bushwhack southwest until the sight of Sunshine Pond appears through the trees. The eastern shoreline here is steep and rocky, so I stay way upslope and slowly work my way around toward the southern end of Sunshine Pond. After descending a steep area within hardwoods, I enter a more mixed forest before crossing a largely dry feeder stream at the very south end of the pond. Only a brief walk along the more level shoreline on the western side brings me to the location of my campsite for last year’s Birdathon.
I am finally in more familiar territory now.
The campsite is in a flat area where such areas are in short supply, sandwiched between Sunshine Pond and the ridge to the west. The ridge separates Sunshine from Deer Pond, but at the top this time of the year before full leaf-out, one can catch glimpses of both of these watery gems from the same location, not that I have time to do so.
The black flies seem to like this spot as much as I do, as the area is thick with them. They swarm around me with such enthusiasm that it would actually be commendable, that is, if my blood was not the object of their desire. It does not help that the air is humid and warm now, much unlike the typical mid-May in the northwestern Adirondack Park. The sky remains overcast and gray, as it has all morning, but thankfully it stays rain free.
The birds singing in the area were pretty typical and already on my list, much to my chagrin. Magnolia warbler, yellow-rumped warbler, hermit thrush, ovenbird and black-throated green warblers being the most notable avian culprits. A tree swallow flies over the pond repeatedly, eager to fill its belly for breakfast. It has my invitation to fly around my head if it wants, but it appears not eager to do so.
Sunshine Pond
When the black flies start becoming well beyond intolerable, I head southwest through the mixed forest in search of an old hunters’ path that winds its way through the forest to the Deer Pond outlet. Whether it connects the other hunters’ path that starts at Raven Lake Road is unknown, but probably likely. I tried linking the two before but was unsuccessful due to heavy rain and a great deal of haste. Someday I will have to try again, this time with my GPS in hand.
A descend through a forest becoming increasingly coniferous just before finding the unmarked trail. The indentation in the ground and an occasional cut branch are all it takes for me to orient myself and head toward Deer Pond. With finding the path, my pace quickens, the comforts of civilization, or what passes for it out here, giving me a new bounce to each of my steps.
As the trail starts to shift toward the outlet, I move into increasingly dense conifers, as my path takes me to the flat rocks along the tail of the pond. The tail of the pond is a narrowing of the pond on its southern end, with the outlet to the south and a more expansive typical rounded pond to the north. On a map, Deer Pond appears like a balloon, with the narrowing channel to the south representing a string.
When I reach the flat rocks along the eastern shore near the outlet, I notice the low water levels. Being spring, I usually expect the rocks to be half-submerged this time of the year. Possibly the lack of beaver activity and the natural rocky flume outlet have something to do with the current water levels predicament.
Deer Pond
Unfortunately, there are no ducks present in the tail when I arrive. Whether the absence is due to my swearing-induced scrambling through the dense conifers or just bad luck, who is to say. Deer Pond is usually rich with waterfowl in the past, and I am hoping this time would be no different, but so far, it is a disappointment. It would have been more aptly named Duck Pond, but that name is already taken be another pond to the northwest.
Not finding what I want near the outlet, I drop my pack, pull out my camera and spotting scope, and head along shore to the north, hoping the main part of the pond will prove more productive. The shoreline is dry enough for most of the way that my boots do not even get wet, though at times I must walk on the stems of the surrounding shrubs which crowd the pond’s perimeter to avoid walking in the pond.
When I get far enough north along the shoreline, more of the northern portion of the pond is visible. Scanning the water with the spotting scope, now conveniently mounted on a tripod, I locate four mallards, two males and two females swimming around the far shore.
Finally, I get to identify a duck to species for the first time today.
In addition to the waterfowl, I pick up a few more species, some that I already got earlier and others I did not. A song sparrow sings along the far shore of the southern channel, while a ruby-crowned kinglet sings off in the conifers behind me. Somewhere, not wanting to be left out, a white-throated sparrow chimes in too. Nashville warbler, red-breasted nuthatch and common yellowthroat make their presence known as well.
Deer Pond
The breezy conditions here cause the black flies to give up little in their ferocity. Every time I glance behind me, looking for movement of the avian kind, I am initially elated when I notice the horde behind me. This is quickly replaced with dread and fear when I realize the source of the original movement.
After inhaling a few of the little black devils, I decide to depart, heading toward the outlet of the pond. The conifers are thick here but once back onto the rocky outlet, conditions are better. The rock formation makes a natural flume, where the water flows through a trench in the rocks. It takes no more than a step across the flume to make it to the other side, where more dense coniferous forest awaits.
The stream becomes less rocky as it heads south, so I chose the dense coniferous forest along its shore instead. After breaching the initial assault of conifer branches with their stinging needles, I climb up a low ridge and proceed southward toward another, smaller water body that I refer to as Lower Deer Pond.
Unlike Deer Pond, its lower counterpart has an indistinct shoreline, making it difficult to get too close to the pond. Fortunately, a sloping hillside and some rocks allow for decent view for surveying for waterfowl. Three female hooded mergansers float about along the southern shore, while a solitary sandpiper wanders around one of the many small islands of vegetation.
While scanning the shoreline for birds, I spot an odd artifact. Half submerged in muddy water, it is difficult to make out the details, but it appears to be a massive snapping turtle shell. It is difficult to get closer and its location is in the opposite direction from my route, so I decide not to investigate further; perhaps some other trip.
Lower Deer Pond
Turning away from the pond, I head west through fairly dense coniferous forest. The terrain shifts rapidly from dry ridge, to wet low area and back again, making progress slow at best. Climbing down from one ridge, glimpses of an open meadow come into view, just before I step right into an old hunters’ camp. I call this meadow, and its nearby camp, Hunter’s Vly.
Old is probably a misnomer though, as a few stacks for firewood lie scattered about. The main part of the campsite has been cleared of trees, with a fire ring at its center, although the entire area remains completely covered in the surrounding canopy. Off into the woods, someone has stacked poles made of young coniferous trees, most likely for an extensive tent. Apparently, this campsite is still in use, most likely during hunting season.
Herd paths lead away from the campsite in almost every direction. Whether they are for firewood searches or rest room breaks it is hard to tell, but one most likely leads back to the old trail back near the Deer Pond outlet. For a trailless wilderness area, the Pepperbox Wilderness seems to have many trails within it.
With my water supply running low, I take a break for birding and head out to the vly to get some water from the stream. One of the many trails emanating from the campsite descends to the vly, providing easy access to the meadow. The vly runs north-south, with a stream that meanders through it, with grassy vegetation and shrubs lining both sides.
A remnant of the extensive pond still exists at the northern end where an ancient berm prevents it from fully draining. Several large pink boulders lie scattered near the berm, still retaining their blocky structure, unlike the typically rounded boulders usually seen in the area.
Hunter’s Vly pond
While heading south a short distance to access the stream, I keep looking to the skies hoping a hawk or some other larger bird will fly over. Unfortunately, no such surprise occurs and I collect my water and return to the campsite for filtering, with not a single new bird species observed.
While I wait for the Aquamira to do its job, I busy myself with making a late lunch. After eating my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I start the second phase of my water process by running the purified water through the filter. The whole process takes just shy of a half hour, leaving me with 64 ounces of drinkable water. I am careful not to waste a single drop, as it I want it to last me the rest of the day.
No new bird species found here at Hunter’s Vly, just some of the typical common ones likes black-and-white warbler, common yellowthroat, yellow-rumped warbler and Nashville warbler.
With a late lunch done and water supply replenished, it is late afternoon now, so time for the long slog south to Cropsey Pond before dark falls. My bird species list is in the forties, which means any likelihood of topping fifty is highly doubtful given the miles left to travel.
Then again, my inner optimist thinks it is not out of the realm of the believable quite yet.
Southern Hunter’s Vly
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