Went kayaking again tonight, out at the Sugarloaf Lakes south of town. I went out with my new friend R, who I met through one of the pool sessions and who's a great paddling buddy. There aren't many other women to whom I can say -- without a trace of irony -- "Hey! I just found out about this really awesome swamp nearby! Wanna go check it out?" and have her say "Awesome! Let's go tonight!"
So we had a great couple of hours on a glass-still lake. The Sugarloaves are a treat to paddle because they're so clear and shallow; the water's as transparent as air. We saw some wildlife I've never seen before: an American Bittern and a huge beaver. I've only seen live beavers one other time, and that was in Kitchener, Ontario, and they were surrounded by birch trees they'd gnawed down to make their lodges and dam -- so I was really surprised to see one trucking along in the swamp, far from any trees. At first we thought it was just an enormous muskrat, but then it slapped its huge tail on the water as it submerged. It must have weighed at least thirty pounds, and made quite a wake as it swam away.
While we were in one of the shallow, hidden cattail coves we surprised an enormous snapping turtle. He hunkered down under the water, pressing his huge shell -- the size of a chair seat -- into the mud. Heading into the narrow passage, I saw the same mama Canada goose I'd spotted the last time I was out, her long neck snaked protectively over her nest in the exact same position I'd seen her in two weeks ago.
We also found a noodly little passage that went nowhere but was fun to navigate -- by the end R had taken her paddle apart and was poling her boat like a gondolier, and I was pulling myself along by grabbing handfuls of dead cattail stalks on either side. On the way back we rounded a turn and surprised a pair of sandhill cranes standing on a little patch of ground not fifteen feet from us, all toasted-cheddar-brown in their spring plumage. We got really quiet and paddled carefully, and they stayed where they were, arching their long necks and cocking their lipstick-red heads at us until we moved out of sight.
We pulled in as dark was gathering, under the light of a half-moon so bright it cast shadows. What a great way to spend the day.