Swamp Birds

Solitary sandpiper inthe swamp.

When I think of sandpipers, beaches usually come to mind, but the solitary sandpiper does not follow that model. Whether breeding in the arctic, wintering in Central or South America, or migrating through Virginia, they are more likely to be found in marshlands and swamps. In the swamp that I explore here in southern Virginia Beach, I come across a wide variety of birds including bald eagles, wood ducks, herons, owls, anhingas, cormorants, osprey, prothonotary warblers, hummingbirds, Virginia rails, and sometimes, solitary sandpipers. 

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Great Blue Herons & Thoreau

Great Blue Heron amongst the cypress knees.

I could have stayed home on this day in May. At home, I could have watched the latest breaking news scroll across the bottom of the television screen as I surf through endless channels of uninteresting rubbish. There seems to be no limit to news that is breaking in today's world. I could have picked up a part time job and gone to work for someone else to supplement my retirement pension so that I can buy more stuff that advertisers are convinced that I need or I could start buying those eight dollar cups of coffee. There are any number of projects around the house that I could either finish or start. There is car and boat maintenance that could be attended to. But, Thoreau is on my mind.

Instead, I drift on a creek off of the North Landing River, the sun warm on my shoulders, drinking coffee from a thermos, watching a heron hunt amongst the cypress knees.

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The Canary of the Swamp

Prothonotary warbler on the North Landing River.

The North Landing River is a beautiful, tranquil blackwater river on which to experience spring in the wetlands of southeastern Virginia. Bright green marsh grasses, sedges and rushes emerge from the black muck and peat along with vibrant, colorful flowers such as the Virginia iris, pickerelweed, and evening primrose. Anadromous species including the alewife and blueback herring leave the oceans and seek out the still, dark waters to spawn while ospreys arrive to feed on the plentiful fishes of this blackwater river. The arrival of the prothonotary warblers illuminates the swamps and pocosins with their exuberant yellows. Once called the golden swamp warbler or the canary of the swamp, these small continental travellers arrive from Central and South America each spring and brighten the wetlands with their color and their song. 

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Dogwoods and Black water

I was in a restaurant here in Virginia Beach recently and ordered sweet tea. The waiter went on to explain to me, quite embarrassed, that even though we are in the South, the restaurant is based in DC and that they did not have sweet tea, but I could order unsweetened tea. Blasphemy!

In my mind, there are certain things that are unmistakably southern. Moon pies. Collards. Sweet tea. Pickups on red dirt roads. Bald cypress and live oak trees, especially if veiled in Spanish moss. Magnolia and dogwood trees. Cypress swamps and blackwater rivers. The list could go on, but the point is that there are things I expect to see or experience here in the south. 

Although I can’t order sweet tea at a certain restaurant, I can watch a dogwood branch float past me on the North Landing, a blackwater river. All is right with the world on the water. 

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Spring on the River

It’s Spring here in the South and the North Landing River is beginning its transformation from the earthy tones of winter to the verdant surge of Spring. The soft, delicate leaves of the bald cypress trees have burst forth, bathing the swamps and the riverbank in the light green of the water giants. The alewife and blueback herring have made their spawning runs from the ocean to the black waters of the wetlands and the winged migrants are beginning to arrive from their winter feeding grounds in the tropics. The eggs of the resident bald eagles have already hatched and the chicks watch intently as the ospreys return to build their nests nearby and prepare for their parental duties. New marsh grasses are emerging from the peat that underlies the vast marshlands and pocosins and soon the Green Sea will be a vibrant green once more, jeweled with millions of flowers.

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Bald eagle chick on the North Landing River.

Foggy River Mornings

Sunrise on the North Landing River

The weather had been warmer than usual for a few weeks—at least, warm for the month of March in Virginia. With more minutes of sunlight each day, the black waters of the North Landing River were warming up quickly. On this particular morning, however, there was a hard chill in the air. Because the air was cold and the water warm, I had set my alarm for 04:30; I had to be on the water at least an hour before sunrise.

Of all the seasons and moods of the river, fog is my absolute favorite. There is something about the intense quiet, absolute stillness, and hushed beauty that makes me long for it. When it happens—as it often does when there is a large temperature difference between the air and the water—I rush to it if I can.

On this day, I had the river, the fog, and the magic to myself. There was only one pickup truck in the boat ramp parking lot - mine. Before twilight, I was heading north on the river, giddy with expectation for the beauty I knew would arrive in less than an hour. A thick fog enveloped the river from bank to bank, spilling over and creeping onto the surrounding marsh and pocosins. With each passing minute, the light changed and painted the sky as a new masterpiece and reflected off the dark water as the fog danced and flowed. It was a perfect, foggy morning on a blackwater river in the South.

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Blond Bobcat

https://youtube.com/shorts/WIXvykEhxsU?si=fEW6HJh9joXpuLKA

Sometimes it all pans out…sort of.

I have seen two bobcats in the swamps in southern Virginia Beach since I have been venturing into these flooded forests. Luck, mostly. I have heard the chilling screams of several bobcats floating through the cypresses and my trail camera has captured a few at night. Today, I got lucky again.

On this day, I was kayaking instead of wading because the water in the swamp was high due to southerly winds and recent rain. After exploring and enjoying the sounds of the winter swamp for several hours, I turned the kayak around and headed noiselessly back south towards the truck. I rounded a clump of trees covered in Spanish moss on a small creek and saw her. She was crossing the creek on a fallen tree. I thought to myself, what on earth is a housecat doing out here? I thought it was a housecat because she was almost white in color. It took me less than a second to realize that she was far too large to be a housecat and the tail was bobbed. This was no ordinary bobcat - it was large, beautiful and white! 

She saw me at the same time that I saw her. She stopped in her tracks, mid-stride and stared. I had a split second decision to make - the camera or the phone? She turned and started to slink back in the direction from  which she had come from. I grabbed the phone - it required less movement from me - and filmed her. After a few seconds, she disappeared into the reeds. I quietly and quickly turned the kayak around and paddled back in the direction that I had come from. My plan was to hide myself on the creek and hope to cut her off as she crossed the peninsula of trees between the two creeks . I know these woods, I thought I knew where she might appear again. 

I paddled to where I thought she might come out of the reeds and looked for a good place to conceal myself. I saw a small group of trees growing out of an old cypress stump in the middle of the creek and decided that was the place to hide and wait. Now, remember, I had just seen a bobcat. I paddled over to the island and reached for one of the trees to steady the kayak. As I did, I heard a loud hiss come from a hole under the island. The sound startled me so badly that I jumped back. Of course, there is no jumping back in a kayak - into the water I went! I was wearing chestwaders, so my very first thought was not to let them fill with water. I had a wading belt on, but drowning definitely crossed my mind, or, not drowning. The paddle sank. The boat hook went over. Yes, I carry a telescoping boat hook in the swamp. It came in handy. The kayak flipped. My very expensive camera and lens, though attached around my neck, went into the water. I flailed, but managed to flip the kayak back over once I realized that the water was only chest deep. 

The hissing sound? That was a muskrat hiding under the tree island. How do you get back into a kayak in chest deep water? In waders half full of dark swamp water? You don’t. I waded over towards the bank towing the kayak, using my boat hook as a walking stick. Once back in the kayak, I used the boat hook to push myself to where I had fallen into the creek. The paddle was nowhere to be seen. It had sunk and the water was a churned up mess of mud and detritus. I used the hook end of my boat hook and fished around until I found the paddle! My lucky day! Yes, it was a great day. A white bobcat? Really? It was an awesome day. The camera and lens? They’re insured.

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The Beauty in Swamps

Less than a mile to the north and east, people drive unknowingly past this secluded dark and serene location in the swamp. They are preoccupied with their lives, giving little notice to this waterlogged realm, perhaps only glancing over occasionally with disinterest at the tangled world of trees, vines and shrubs along the road. But swamps hide an incredible, complex world where trillions upon trillions of living organisms live their lives in secret on the flooded forest vegetation, in the dark water and in the thick black muck under it all. 

We are forever dependent on the wetlands that fringe the North Landing River, and all of the trees, shrubs and vegetation found in the swamps, pocosins, and marshes in our corner of the Americas. These wetlands provide habitat and refuge for uncounted species, store carbon in the peat found throughout the drainage basin, provide protection from stormwaters, filter the pollutants that our standard of living creates, and produces the very oxygen we breathe. This particular swamp provides me with a haven removed from our modern way of life.

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Biophilia..

Beaver on a North Landing River tributary

In the colder months, I spend time exploring swamps in southern Virginia Beach. I have fewer tours this time of year so there is more time to wander in these wild, wet forests, and the absence of mosquitos, horseflies and snakes allows me to concentrate on observing the strange world around me rather than swatting at bugs and watching for the legless one. 

Biophilia is a modern philosophy that suggests that humans seek connections with nature and that time spent in nature benefits us both physically and mentally. There is more to it, but in essence, connecting with nature is good for the spirit and body. The term is modern, but the idea is not. Over a century ago, John Muir encouraged people to get out into nature and to let nature's peace “flow into you as sunshine flows into trees."

For several months, I have seen signs of a beaver in a swamp just minutes from my house. I have been searching for the beaver and his lodge, with no success until yesterday. After retrieving a trail camera I had hidden in the swamp, I found him sleeping on the creek bank as I paddled towards my pickup. The beaver slid unhurriedly into the cold, dark water and kept me company for well over twenty minutes. At one point, he climbed back onto the shore and sat quietly, probably wondering what that irritating clicking noise could be that was coming from the black box in my hands. Eventually, he swam off in the opposite direction of my truck. 

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North Landing River Pocosins

The North Landing River meanders slowly through Virginia Beach, channeling rain and groundwater away from the Chesapeake Bay, the largest estuary in the United States, and joins the second largest estuarine system, the Albemarle Sound, just over the border in North Carolina. Over the thousands of years since the last glacial maximum, the river has carved a path through the Mount Pleasant Flat, flowing south from the Princess Anne Rise between two paleo shorelines: the Pungo Ridge and the Land of Promise Ridge. 

The river is flanked by water-logged peatland, a wild and impenetrable mosaic of stunted pines, stands of Atlantic White Cedar and dense shrub thickets. Once dismissed as a wasteland, ditched and drained to create farmland, the pocosins are an ancient wetland wilderness worthy of appreciation and preservation. Today, barely 17% Virginia’s original pocosins remain, most found within the Dismal Swamp and along the North Landing River. 

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Holiday Gift Idea

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Twilight on Albright’s Creek

Twilight on Albright's Creek- North Landing River

Between the Pungo Ridge and the Land of Promise Ridge flows a Virginia Scenic River. The North Landing is a beautiful ribbon of water that sluggishly meanders south through thousands of acres of lush wetlands. Stained, tannic water trickles from the swamps and pocosins, filtered and cleansed by the peat and marshes, forming this majestic blackwater river. 

We live in a constructed world filled with atmospheres of noise. In the distance there is the sound of tires on pavement, air conditioners, airplanes, and the piercing, insistent beep-beep-beep of a backing truck. In our homes there is a television that no one is watching, the drone of a refrigerator fan, and phone notifications demanding attention that never seem to cease. But on the North Landing River, a few painted minutes before sunrise, the noise atmosphere is unspoilt, tranquil. Here, the clamor of progress is banished. Reeds rustle in the wind. A distant splash. The faint whistle of a duck in flight. The call of an owl. If twilight had a sound, I imagine it would be a hymn. 

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North Landing Mornings

Morning fog on the North Landing River

The North Landing River in southeastern Virginia is a watery ribbon that cuts a winding path through a maze of marshes and pocosins. Unlike many rivers, the North Landing River does not start narrow and fast in the mountains of Virginia. Rather, it percolates up through the deep black soils and sponge-like peat of surrounding swamps, gathering and widening to form a blackwater river that eventually converges with the Northwest River in Currituck Sound.

Mornings on the banks of the river are reminiscent of an older, slower time. The air is thick and cool, heavy with the lingering fog as labradors retrieve bumpers tossed out into the coffee-colored water. The rumble of a tug boat floats across the still water as it carefully maneuvers a barge under the Pungo Ferry Bridge and small jon boats head out towards the foggy marsh, fishing poles and bobbers dangling behind the small outboard. Just as the sky begins to lighten, ducks streak low above the tall marsh grasses and in the distance, the sharp cry of an osprey breaks the silence as eagles assume their perches on the cypress trees that line the river. As the sun rises, the fog - clinging like a curtain to the shore -lifts and the soft pinks give way to blue. 

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What draws me to the River

The North Landing River at Sunrise.

The North Landing River is justly designated wild and scenic - a joy to gaze upon and a delight to travel and explore. Though I have journeyed these waters countless times and everything is familiar, the river always feels new. The shifting light, the turn of the seasons, the misty mornings, the chance wildlife encounters—it all changes, always. Perhaps that is what draws me,  to chase the subtle differences and ensure I don't miss the next fleeting moment of beauty or bear crossing. The river itself, however, remains constant as it lazes south, stunning in the rising sun. 

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A lone tree

A lone bald cypress on the North Landing River.

A lone tree. Surrounded by water, hanging on in the soft peat and mud. Isolated by erosion, yards from the bank on the North Landing River. Bald cypresses were one of the most sought after species of trees throughout the South and were heavily logged from colonial times through the 1900s. Bald cypress trees are found along the entire length of the North Landing River, on every tributary stream, and there are hard to reach swamps with cypress that are hundreds of years old - areas so difficult to access that they have never been logged. But this lone, lowercase cypress stands stubbornly against the odds, resisting the onslaught of three foot boat wakes from the yachts on the Intracoastal and the constant rising and falling of the river caused by wind tides.

I can’t count the number of people over the years that have expressed to me that I might be adding to the demise of the North Landing River and the natural heritage that surrounds this Virginia Scenic River by sharing images of the river. I see their point, but I disagree for many reasons. But, here are two. First, access to the river is limited. A boat or some type of vessel is required - only a very small fraction of the bank is accessible without one. Even with a vessel, most of the waters are shallow - then it gets shallower with a northerly wind, limiting access. Second, awareness can also help protect a place. As Clyde Butcher wrote, “It is (my) hope that by sharing the beauty of the region you will see the need to keep it in its natural biological condition for future generations to enjoy.” So, I suppose I am saying that by sharing these images, it might help protect the North Landing. Maybe not. Regardless, this might be one of my favorite pictures of the river.

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Changing Plans

West Neck Creek Sunrise

Some mornings, my plans go awry - it’s just what happens. When I’m going, I usually decide the night before where on the North Landing River I want to be at sunrise. Most often, my goal is to be in place deep in some tributary creek when the light from the rising sun begins to paint the sky and reveal the secrets in the marshes and swamps. More often than not, I follow through with what I had intended, unless I don’t. My well laid plans are really more like suggestions to myself, not unchangeable and quickly modified in the faint predawn light. Like today. Traveling north on the river, I looked to my right and cut the engine. My plans had changed. 

At the mouth of West Neck Creek where it unites with the North Landing, I drift. It’s just so quiet. The early morning mist, clammy and featureless, slips along the creek and sinks slowly back into the swamps as the sun creeps skyward. A muskrat glides silently through the water against the far bank. The marsh grasses rustle softly in the gentle Virginia breeze. If you lean in and listen closely, you might hear the angels singing.

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Land of Promise

Southern Virginia Beach is different from what most people think of when they hear the name of the city. There are no hotels. No StarBucks or souvenir shops. No Exxons or Texacos. Hell, there isn’t even a road with more than two lanes and most roads don’t even have lines, but the ditches will swallow your Suburban. This is a place of pickup trucks and tractors, boats and duck blinds, water dogs and shotguns, farm stands and Sunday mornings in a pew. Until relatively recently, the people in this part of Princess Anne County made their living off of the land or from the water - or both. Farming. Commercial fishing and crabbing. Waterfowl guiding. People's lives were tied to the land and the water - many still are, and trust me, there is no shortage of water. The region is a study in the geography of water, and the water is different - it is not colorless. The waters are tannic and brackish and shallow and shallower. 

The influence of water can be seen in many of the place names in Pungo and Blackwater.  Neck is common in names - a neck being land with water on at least two sides. Charity Neck. West Neck. Buzzard Neck and Morris Neck. And before there were roads there were landings. Now, the roads are named for landings. North Landing and West Landing. Mill Landing. Campbells Landing. Back Bay Landing and Public Landing. Naturally, several roads are also named for the  many waterways. Indian Creek and Indian River. Muddy Creek, Nannys Creek, Blackwater and Head of River Roads. Even most of the few places to eat are named for things related to the water: Blue Pete’s; Redhead Bay Cafe; Back Bay Market; Blackwater Trading Post. 

Southern Virginia Beach is rural and an environmental wonderland for lovers of nature and water. And it is a Land of Promise, just as the ridge and road names predict.

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My Mansion

Sunrise on the North Landing River

Time spent on the North Landing River is a peaceful and scenic experience, and most days I have the river entirely to myself. Occasionally, a fisherman in a small flat bottomed boat will appear around the bend in one of the many creeks that feed the North Landing. It is the perfect place to take things slow, to unwind after a long week or - in my case - the perfect place to start the day. In the warm, golden wash of twilight, the sounds of nature are the only disruption to the silence, though it is a welcome one.

The river is my mansion and the wetlands are my gardens. The river is my exotic destination, the antithesis of the asphalt and concrete north of the Pungo light - a separation of the wild from the urban. This is my wildlife safari. Every bend of the river, every unseen splash and warning bark of an otter is a testament to the spirit of this wild, beautiful river.

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Feathers & Fur

Barred owl on the North Landing River

Swamps are magical places. Forbidding to some, but to those who venture, they reveal a world full of life and secrets. The swamp is no wasteland but a sanctuary—a place where beauty and wonder are written in feathers and fur and shadows, a true sanctuary of nature’s endless wonder. Primitive and untouched, nature's wild artistry is on full display in this hidden world, inviting those who dare to look closer to discover its captivating charm. 

In the light that filters through the cypress and gum, a barred owl watches silently from the tangled canopy, a patient guardian of ancient mysteries. A great blue heron rests and waits, watching the dark, still water, and silently, river otters pause and inspect the intruder. 

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Great blue heron on the North Landing River

River otters on the North Landing River

Rare Encounters

King rail on the edge of the marsh.

The North Landing River is a wildlife enthusiast's paradise and is always a pleasure to explore. Gliding along the water, you'll often spot familiar species like bald eagles, great blue herons, and ospreys soaring overhead. But the river holds its secrets, and you're always hoping to catch a glimpse of a rarer creature, like a shy mink or a playful river otter. Occasionally, you might even stumble upon something truly uncommon, like the elusive king rail or a coyote silently stalking the marsh. The river is a constant surprise; you never know what's waiting just around the next bend.

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