Now that Bow-tie Beaver Meadow, the Four Ponds, and Big Bad Leroy Bog (and their respective bird species) are in the Birdathon record book for this year, it is time to move on to Sunshine and Deer Ponds, before finally stopping for my lunch break at Hunters’ Vly. The route to these waterbodies can be arduous at times, but this portion of my bushwhacking birding trip is the last ditch effort to pick up some major species before the afternoon doldrums sets in.

Situated between Sunshine Pond, the largest water body along my Birdathon route, and myself lies a forest with both deciduous and coniferous components, not to mention a murky beaver pond. This beaver pond, which has an adjacent bog attached, contains a three-tiered dam, representing years of work by the resident beavers. Getting around this water body is my next physical ordeal, as well as a great birding opportunity.

Three-Tiered Dam Beaver Pond

After leaving Big Bad Leroy Bog behind, it takes little time before emerging from a mixed forest to find myself standing on the edge of a much smaller bog, with open water off to the south. Common grackles fly about the open wetland, making themselves obvious by their vigorous calls, while a pair of black-and-white warblers crawls along the limbs of a large tree nearby. Scanning the open water with my binoculars yields little except a single male hooded merganser swimming about on the pond’s surface.

The small bog is way too wet and deep for crossing, so instead I allow the bog’s southern perimeter to guide me, knowing that a beaver dam at the pond’s outlet provides a perfect crossing point. Unfortunately, the forest quickly becomes thick and near-impenetrable with young softwoods growing in the understory. Since both of my eyes and all my limbs remain precious to me, I move back into the forest, away from my initial destination. Retreat is the better part of valor here, so when conditions improve, I can make further progress in the proper direction toward the pond’s beaver dam.

Conditions quickly improve, allowing me once again to turn westward for a short time before finally arriving at the beaver pond’s outlet stream. The pond is larger than I remember it from previous years, full of an assortment of differently-sized snags, their wood bleached gray from standing in the sun for many years. A 3-tiered dam keeps the pond’s dark inky water at bay, with two typical Adirondack beaver dams bookending an odder-looking one. This oddball dam is nearly level with the water, giving the stream the appearance as if it is flowing off the face of a cliff.

My route takes me across the lower dam, as it seems the least likely to throw me off into the surrounding muck. The crossing proves much less involved than previously thought, however; it even allows for some photography along the way. Once on the opposite shore, a short but steep climb provides an escape from the stream bed, but thankfully, a more gradual route exists back down to the beaver pond’s shore, where an extensive view of the pond awaits.

Although sightings of the resident beaver remain nonexistent, signs of them are common along the pond’s shore. When I first arrived at the adjacent bog, a large yellow birch stood with about a third of its diameter chewed through, while on my current side of the dam, a downed American beech lies on the ground, its branches sheared off by the large rodent’s sharp teeth.

It would be wise for anyone with a wooden leg not to take a nap near this pond, or they just might wake up with a pirate’s peg-leg.

Getting Around Sunshine Pond

With no new bird species presenting themselves after a long pause, it is time to move on, as Sunshine Pond waits. Rather than heading directly west and continuing in a low, wet area, I climb to the south with the hope of finding conditions easier to navigate. With the more upland surroundings, the forest changes from its mixed nature of coniferous and deciduous trees to almost exclusively hardwoods. While the trees remain primarily American beech and yellow birch, there is a scattering of a few young conifers within the understory too. The birds here largely consist of black-capped chickadees, ovenbirds, black-throated blue warblers, black-throated green warblers, hermit thrushes, and blue-head vireos, with a single northern parula as a bonus.

The black flies dial up their assault a few notches along this stretch. One would think that gaining elevation and moving away from bodies of water would provide some respite from the black demons, but this is not the case here. I keep telling myself they are not that bad and to continue walking. I pretend that helps.

The slight elevation gain gives me an ideal vantage point for seeing the inevitable eastern inlet bay of Sunshine Pond. As I approach, I head downslope to meet the edge of the bay, with the hope that better birding occurs there. The bay begins as just a forested depression, before it transforms abruptly into a meadow, complete with a small stream meandering through it. With each subsequent beaver dam, the stream becomes larger and murkier, and the surrounding meadow transitions to a shrubby wetland. Sunshine Pond remains in the west, where I catch only fleeting glimpses of as a large island blocks the majority of the pond from my view.

Sunshine Pond’s eastern bay provides me several bird species, one for the first time today. White-throated sparrows and common yellowthroat sing within the open shrubby areas surrounding the open water, while blue-headed vireos sing from the bordering conifer forest. It is the far-off ugly croak of the common raven that turns out to be the gem of the area though.

In addition to the avian life, I spot something near the forested edge that is somewhat surprising. It is a large pile of what appears to resemble moose poop. However, instead of the dry little footballs, as it usually appears, these seem a little less distinct and darker; more like giant deer dropping than moose. If moose, this would be quite exciting, as evidence of these large ungulates is rare in this area, at least in my experience.

With Sunshine Pond getting closer, I turn south and enter the forest again, climbing away from the bay and toward the southern end of the large water body. As ponds go, this one is more of a lake, size-wise anyways. The pond runs generally north/south, and luckily the eastern bay lies closer to the southern end, meaning my journey around it is not as long as it might have been otherwise.

The climb out from the bay is fairly steep and quite tiring. After a short distance, the terrain levels off, but the sight of open water through the trees and far below me indicates the magnitude of the elevation gain. Staying up on this ridge would be an option if I was to continue going south, but after clearing the pond my route takes me westward toward Deer Pond. When there is no longer any view of Sunshine Pond through the trees to my right, I carefully search for a way down off the ridge, attempting to follow game paths, where possible.

While bushwhacking along the ridge, the bird life remains pretty typical of woodland birds within the Adirondack hardwood forests, primarily black-throated blue warblers, black-throated green warblers, and ovenbirds. A pair of ovenbirds appears rather agitated, but I find no other evidence of their early nesting. The piece de resistance of this section is a red-eyed vireo, perhaps the most common bird in all the northeastern forests, but often uncommon here in mid-May.

The eye-strained little bird brings my list to a mere 37 species, with only a little more than an hour to go before noon. Not a banner year so far, unfortunately, but I continue to hope for the usual influx of waterfowl species typically provided by Deep Pond in years past.

Finding a way off the ridge requires moving farther south than I originally anticipated, with Sunshine Pond far off to the northwest now. During the descent, I alternate between following herd paths and picking my own way through boulders and smaller rocks, whichever is easiest. While descending, the forest slowly transitions from a hardwood forest to one with an equal mix of conifers and hardwoods, making bushwhacking a little more difficult.

As I draw closer to the southern end of Sunshine Pond and the terrain levels out, I discover a small ancient beaver pond. Despite coming through this area many times in the past, this little pond has always eluded me until this trip. Its water is murky and still, as the pond lacks any significant inflow, and apparently has for some time. An ancient dam to the north appears as the only reason for the pond’s continued existence.

At Sunshine Pond

After bushwhacking farther west, I cross a small stream, where the surroundings begin becoming more familiar. Sunshine Pond is now visible through the trees once again, this time to the north. I keep the shore at a distance, remaining within the open forest until reaching the pond’s southwestern shore. A large boulder acts as another recognized landmark, and shortly, I reach a familiar level area, which has acted as a resting spot, and occasionally, an emergency campsite in the past.

The bird activity is generally robust here, but unfortunately, no new species are present. A yellow-rumped warbler, ovenbird, Magnolia warbler, common yellowthroat, and black-and-white warbler sing while I am in the area. During one of my few trips down to the shoreline, I spot a common loon swimming in the pond, most likely the same one I heard during the early morning hours. For a pond rumored as devoid of fish due to acid rain, seeing the fish-eating loon on these waters is a good sign of recovery.

With a modest break from the bushwhacking well overdue, I stop here for a snack and some relaxing birding before pushing onto Deer Pond and beyond. As noon approaches, it does not look good for my poor anemic bird list on this year’s Birdathon.

With lunch at least an hour away, there is hope yet for my list with Deer Pond and Hunters’ Vly still on the itinerary.

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