If prisons, freight trains, swamps, and gators don’t get ya to write songs, y’ain’t got no business writin’ songs.

~Ronnie Van Zant

As part of our “farewell tour”, we drove up to Merchants Millpond State Park last weekend. When I was working with state parks, I fell in love with that place and its amazing wildlife and magical tree-scape of old-growth Bald Cypress and Tupelo Gum. Our friends, Floyd and Signa, retired park rangers, had invited us to an oyster roast which was much enjoyed and appreciated. Ironically, of the 20 or so folks there, two are bringing families to Yellowstone later this spring…indeed, all roads do lead to Yellowstone, especially for people that love public lands and wildlife. We camped Saturday night at the family campground and on Sunday launched our canoe into the still waters of the millpond.

We joined a friend from Vermont that visits the park every year from his home in Vermont and paddled slowly up the millpond toward my favorite destination, Lassiter Swamp. Northern Parula and Yellow-throated Warblers provided the soundscape as we paddled with occasional sightings of other birds like an Anhinga, Bald Eagle, Canada Goose, and Great Blue Heron. When we entered Lassiter Swamp, we were alone, just our canoe and the sights and sounds of this otherworldly place.

Lassiter Swamp is at the upper end of the millpond. A little over halfway up the millpond, the trees become less abundant and you can see a channel of deeper water meandering toward the swamp. As you get closer, you need to choose your way more carefully as some channels lead to dead ends into thickly vegetated areas that can make paddling difficult. But once you enter, you feel you are in a different world. Bald Cypress and weirdly contorted Tupelo Gum surround you, the gum trees having been deformed by the growths of semi-parasitic Mistletoe. It can be a ghostly landscape and, if you have that sort of imagination, there are monsters watching you from the trees. But to us, it is a magical place of unique beauty.

A short way into the swamp, I saw an American Bittern fly up off a large mat of aquatic vegetation. In rapid succession, three more bitterns flushed from that area. In all my years of paddling the millpond, I could not remember seeing a single American Bittern at the park, let alone four! One of the well-camouflaged birds landed after a short flight and was hidden behind some trees. We continued paddling and saw it catch something – a large crayfish!

We slowly drifted while watching it trying to swallow its meal. It appeared to want to dine alone and flew a short distance to a group of trees trunks.

It landed after a short flight, giving us a great view of this beautiful bird and ts hapless prey.

We continued silently paddling upstream, absorbing the scene before us and listening to the quiet song of the swamp. Beaver sign was everywhere along the route and we occasionally had to paddle in high gear to cross over a shallow gap in a beaver dam.

It’s always advisable to look closely before crossing any dam, especially if it requires a brief disembark to pull the canoe across. You might find yourself in the company of another camouflaged swamp dweller, a Cottonmouth.

We saw three of these snakes within about 15 feet of one another, all eyeing us without moving as we paddled by. Though venomous, they tend to not be aggressive, and, if you pay attention, you can enjoy their presence without any problems. We also saw a water snake doing its best imitation of a Cottonmouth a little farther up the swamp. I believe it was a Brown Water Snake though Northern Water Snakes tend to be more common here.

The occasional Wood Duck with its “oo-week, oo-week” call flushed out ahead as we paddled and the taps of woodpeckers echoing through the trees provided the percussion background notes. We soon spied some tiny ripples in the still water to the side and saw a dragonfly struggling on its back on the water surface, its wings adhering to the surface tension of the dark water. I lowered my paddle underneath and lifted it up and over to the canoe. I put a finger down and the insect grabbed on and turned itself upright. I placed it in the canoe to dry off. A few minutes later, I saw it vibrating its drying wings and when I put my finger close, it grabbed on, continuing to vibrate, and then took off. A swamp connection was now complete.

We finally reached a beaver dam that might require a portage and, looking at the time, we reluctantly turned back and started drifting along with the slow current taking it all in, perhaps for the last time. I glanced downstream and saw a River Otter poised on a bright green mossy log, staring at us. By the time I got the camera up, it had slid into the water and was swimming at us in typical otter fashion, head low, its face reflected perfectly in the black waters of the swamp.

And then, again in typical otter behavior, it bounced up and down in the water stretching its neck up and snorting at us before disappearing beneath the water with a plop.

It is amazing how far and how quickly they can swim underwater. The otter seemed to have tired of us slow swamp swimmers, and simply vanished, leaving us once again in our solitude. As we paddled back, so many memories of this special place flooded back into my head. They reminded me of how grateful I am this place is now protected as a state park. I was also thankful that people like Floyd and Signa and all the park staff I have known have been the caretakers of such magical places that continue to sing to all that take the time to listen.

–The song of Lassiter Swamp will live in us as a treasured memory of this special place