Half of the Birdathon day has passed, the good half, and my bird species list is still a bit anemic. Even with Big, Bad Leroy Bog and Sunshine Pond already under my bushwhacking belt, the long sojourn to Cropsey Pond still needs to go through Deer Pond, Hunters’ Vly, miles of forest, and a couple of stream systems before I can rest for the night.
In other words, a long day of birding and bushwhacking is still ahead of me.
Date: May 21, 2016
Length: 1.6 miles (4.4 day, 10.0 trip)
Difficulty: Moderate (bushwhack)
With no time to waste, I gobble up a snack and leave Sunshine Pond behind, heading for Hunters’ Vly via Deer Pond. Typically, Deer Pond provides most of my waterfowl species for the Birdathon, as it appears to be a popular spot for these kinds of birds. At a current measly 37 species, I am hoping it comes through for me in the duck department once again this year. After Deer, it is off to Hunters’ Vly for a sizeable lunch break, with the long and often species-lacking dash through miles of forest to Cropsey Pond waiting before the last amount of daylight evaporates.
Right now, finding an old hunters’ path between Sunshine and Deer ponds is my top priority, otherwise the trip there will be both painful and time-consuming. If I fail to find the ancient trail, old-fashioned bushwhacking is the only alternative, with the dense young conifers poking and prodding me the entire way. Luckily, I have numerous waypoints along the trail saved on my GPS from past years, which should make finding the old path easy enough, at least theoretically.
Fortunately, theory matches reality in this case, and after a short jaunt through a mixed forest, I stumble upon the trail without as much as a hitch. The trail remains fairly easy to follow, mostly due to its contrast with the dense surrounding coniferous forest, although previous trail experience proves advantageous occasionally when traveling through the several wet areas where evidence of a trail is lacking.
Reaching Deer Pond
An American crow caws to the south as I approach Deer Pond, a rather common species that is an unusual find for this area. This new species gets my list one species closer to my goal of 50 for the day. With only 38 species so far, the goal is looking like a bit of a pipe dream now.
As I approach the pond, the herd path takes a sharp left, down toward a crossing at Deer Pond’s outlet. Instead, I turn right and head off into the thick forest, returning to some proper bushwhacking, albeit temporarily. Thankfully, the forest is not completely impenetrable, and although requiring some care, the going is not too problematic, with the only obstacles of note being a tiny wet spot and a few downed trees.
After a short distance, the southern end of Deer Pond comes into view. This pond is fairly odd-shaped, with a large round northern portion and a thinner, channel-like stem at its southern end, where the outlet flows southward. It somewhat resembles a balloon more than it does a deer, though I doubt its shape had anything to do with its current moniker. A rock formation, with a corresponding flume, creates a natural dam at its outlet, which combined with some beaver-accumulated debris, guarantees a significant water level for the pond, especially in the spring.
This pond would be more aptly named Duck Pond, given its penchant for providing me with many waterfowl species in past Birdathons. Unfortunately, Duck Pond is already taken within the Pepperbox Wilderness, by a water body located off to the northwest. Although I have visited that pond a few times in the past, it does not appear quite as attractive to waterfowl as this one currently before me.
My exit from the forest occurs at a series of flat rocks along the shore, not too far from the pond’s outlet, just as I planned when I left the old path moments ago. Unfortunately, the open area around the rocks puts me in full view of my intended quarry. As I force my way through the surrounding shrubbery, there is a flurry of feathers as two male hooded mergansers fly off northward, while a female mallard flies south toward another pond just a short distance downstream. Good thing they were close by and slow to take off, as I would have never been able to get my binoculars on them if they were farther away.
Only the mallard gives me another species for my day’s list. One is better than nothing though, so I will take it.
After clearing out the shy waterfowl around the outlet, I concentrate my effort on the less gregarious ones to the north. The flat rocks make a perfect staging area for my birding here, as they provide an ideal open area to view the surrounding shoreline and a place to drop my backpack as I go species hunting farther north. However, spending too much time here is no longer an option, as it is already midday and despite the weather report of clear skies, the clouds overhead have other plans, with some being dark and especially angry looking.
Both white-throated sparrows and common yellowthroats sing here, but despite that, no other species show up to the party. Other than what appears to be Canada goose droppings on the flat rocks, the pond is uncharacteristically absent of any more waterfowl other than those that took off when I arrived. This calls for more direct measures, so with spotting scope as my only companion, I head north along the shore, hoping to catch sight of another species or two in the main part of the pond before eventually moving on to parts west.
Fortunately, the pond’s water levels are low enough this year for me to walk along the shoreline, alternating between checking out the many rocks on the opposite shore and looking down at my feet to avoid the many carnivorous sundews congregating along shore. Occasionally, the pond encroaches on the shoreline, forcing me to step off into the surrounding bushes, or risk wet boots, or worse, soaked feet.
When I arrive at a decent view of the pond’s northern portion, I stop and set up the spotting scope to see what waterfowl I can find. Unfortunately, all my effort is for naught, as only mallards and hooded mergansers are visible, no matter how many times I scan the open water and the surrounding shoreline. Unfortunately, Deer Pond is not going to provide a multitude of waterfowl this year.
Bummer!
Following Deer Pond Outlet
Instead of spending more time with little return here, I double back to my backpack at the flat rocks, where I pick my stuff up and head back to the herd path. A hairy woodpecker calls nearby as I leave the pond behind, giving me a welcome additional species. Upon reaching the old trail, I follow it down toward the pond’s outlet stream. After a short distance, the path begins to peter out as it turns southward, so I say my good-byes for this year and enter the open Deer Pond outlet corridor, following the vociferous sound of rushing water.
Stepping out onto bare rock, I immediately find the outlet stream, which is merely a small flume flowing within a crack in the rocks. The raucous sound and intensity of the flowing water make the crossing seem more formidable than it really is, as a short hop gets me to the other side. This crossing is probably more arduous during wetter springs, or when the beavers are less active, and what little damming they do here has fallen into disrepair.
Standing on the rocks, the view south allows for a pretty decent scan of the unnamed pond to the south. Since it lacks a formal name on the map, I refer to it as Fawn Pond, as it follows its larger relative to the north. A Canada warbler sings off into the forest, but other than that I come up empty with any additional bird species at the smaller pond.
It is not looking like a fruitful afternoon, species-wise.
Unfortunately, the stream crossing is not over, as a few wayward streamlets, apparently escapees from the main outlet, lie between the other shoreline and me. Apparently, these little steams prefer making an attempt around the surrounding boulders, rather than through the main flume flow. On the western shore, dense, young conifers await me, reminding me that nothing about bushwhacking is easy.
The crossing is not completely unproductive for birding however. Although, the smaller pond fails to provide more waterfowl, it does give me two song sparrows singing along its shore. Whether rival males or a mated pair, there is no way for me to tell. A white-throated sparrow contributes its two cents too, just before I depart the small pond for another year.
Hunters’ Vly
With the few new species obtained, I head toward Hunters’ Vly, directly to the west. There is no time to waste now, as it is drawing close to one o’clock in the afternoon and my appetite for lunch is gnawing away at my poor, deprived tummy. This vly is an old pond that is mostly dry now, with Deer Pond’s outlet meandering through it on its way to Moshier Creek farther off to the west. Nearby in the forest is a campsite often used by hunters, usually complete with a fire ring, a stack of cut woods and hidden off in the surrounding forest, young trees cut into tent poles.
It is a nice spot, which I reserved for my lunch stop, regardless of the time it takes me to reach it.
After traveling through a coniferous forest for a short distance, I locate one of the many old trails in the area, just as the trail traverses a narrow clearing. Before following the trail westward, I mark a waypoint on my GPS, figuring that it may come in handy for some future trip. The old trail allows me to bypass much of the arduous bushwhacking through the dense coniferous forest, not to mention the few small wet areas scattered about. Within twenty minutes of following the old trail, I am pulling into the hunters’ campsite, with the feeling as if I were arriving home after a long trip.
Everything is as it was the last time I visited the campsite. A stack of cut wood still stands in the middle of the camping area, perhaps a little bigger since last year. Many of the small trees cut into poles are propped up against larger trees nearby, evidently so as to retard their decomposition. A small makeshift fire ring is still present, but lacks any sign of much use. The site appears as if no person has been there since last fall.
Before satisfying my gnawing hunger, I make a short trip down to the vly and its vestigial pond, as it might be one of my last opportunities to capture some new bird species. A fairly well-worn trail winds down slope to the edge of the open meadow, giving me a chance to sneak up on my quarry before they have time to flee elsewhere.
The meadow is rather slim, oriented north to south, with a small, rocky pond to the north. The pond is fed by the meandering Deer Pond outlet stream, and is somewhat impeded westward by an ancient, and currently ruptured, beaver dam. The boulders in the pond are rough-edged and have a subtle pink hue, appearing quite different than most of the glacial erratics typically found in the western Adirondacks. It is difficult to imagine a more attractive Adirondack vly.
The southern portion of the meadow is mostly shrub-covered, dominated by the meandering stream, as it flows snake-like into the old pond. Before the dam rupture, this entire meadow was apparently covered in water, at least as indicated by the old USGS topographic map of the area. If beavers return to this area, it will most-likely return to this condition, with the current open meadow becoming a distant memory.
A female hooded merganser takes flight from the small pond as I emerge into the open, another previously observed species that provides nothing for my day’s species list. However, my species dry spell comes to an end as I make my way around the pond’s eastern shoreline, where I spot a dead female wood duck lying in the vegetation. The body appears quite fresh, with not a single mark on it. Rolling it over with my foot, no bugs lurk underneath; apparently, it has not been there long.
Wood duck is still missing from my species list for the day. Do the Birdathon rules specify only living birds?
As I approach the old dam, I hear a strange peeping sound to the west. At first, I consider it just a poorly-tuned spring peeper, but as I reach the top of the dam, I discover the source is a small duck. It is a green-winged teal, not only a new species for the day, but one I have never seen during a Birdathon before, let alone in the Pepperbox Wilderness.
It’s the bird of the day, indeed!
With dark clouds threatening overhead, I gather up some water from the stream and retreat back to the campsite for lunch and some water filtering. When lunch is done, there will be some more time to explore the meadow before heading off on a mad dash to Cropsey Pond.
Unfortunately, I anticipate a long and birdless trek to the south for the rest of the day, if past years are any indication.
Though there is always a chance for a surprise, as the green-winged teal showed me.
