Austin Cary Lot is a small state park land in Harpswell, Maine on Great Island which is also called Sebascodegan Island. It is located east of of Route 24 down Long Reach Lane.The woods are mixed pine and hardwoods. It is green year round there and is home to many critters including at least one porcupine.
This map is a GPS track of my stroll at Austin Cary Lot on the day of the porcupine.
A few springs back it seemed like it was time to explore Austin Cary Lot, a small state park land, about a 10 minute drive from my home.
I drove in on Long Reach Lane, a gravel right of way, found a wide spot in the road and parked my big white truck. I got out some hiking gear put it in a small backpack and walked on into the woods heading north on a two rut, one lane work trail. It was a sunny day but not hot, a good day for exploring the woods on or off the trail.
The ruts that passed for a work road were too puddled and muddy for much pleasant walking so I veered east and made my way overland through overhanging evergreens and some light brush. I worked my way over gentle small rises and through shallow dips to a seaside cliff where I sat for a while.
The cliff dropped abruptly from the woods, which pressed right up to the edge. There was little warning I was approaching a cliff except for the sound of the small wavelets breaking below and blue sky showing through the trees where one expected only green. At night one could easily tumble over the edge. It is a few dozen feet high, the ocean laps right up against the foot of the cliff. There is no beach below it at high tide.
I sat quietly and watched the gulls and ducks swimming and fishing for their meals. I sat for around a half hour and drank some water and ate some crackers and cheese I had brought along.
After a little indecision, I stood up and looked at a little game trail and foot path that led away from my spot on the cliff. I decided to explore some more.
I headed north paralleling the coast for a while, maybe twenty to thirty minutes, to a nice little cove about a hundred feet wide at most. The trail led gently down to the beach, there was no need to climb down to get there.
The tide was falling. I could tell from the wet beach which had been exposed as sea level fell. I stood quietly and listened to the water lapping on the shore, but only stayed about ten minutes or so.
I went from there northward following the faint foot path that followed the contour of the shoreline. The trail led me north and then took a short turn east and then rounded back southward toward where I figured the rut road I came in on must lie.
I explored a little cove with an abandoned run down houseboat anchored in the muck near to shore. In this section of the park the hills ran pretty steeply toward the water. The hills were pine forested with smell of pine forest soil drifting upward in the gentle warmth.
Eventually, I found my way back to the two rut road and figured to work my way back toward where I had parked my old Chevy Tahoe, "the behemoth".
On my way, I came upon an acre-sized clearing cut in the woods that looked to be a forest management project. There were stacks of cut wood and of brush... branches and brush in heaps here and there. No people or trucks or tools were in sight.
As I quietly stalked up on the clearing, I saw what looked like an upside down bushel basket of sticks moving away from me. As I made my way closer, I could see it was not animated sticks come to life but a porcupine.
When he saw me he started with some high speed, evasive waddling. It is only my guess that the porcupine imagined it to be high speed, but he did pick up the pace when he saw he had company. Porcupines do not seem to run much nor too fast.
I followed and talked soothingly to the critter for a while. There was no reply from the porcupine. He hurried along seemingly unimpressed with my friendly, calming banter.
I let him get ahead of me while I unslung my backpack and took out my camera. I took a couple shots of him as he ambled away and through the clearing and to the east away from the rut road leading out of the area and back to my truck.
Eventually the needled beast, presumably having grown tired of my too close companionship, climbed into an uncut clump of small pine saplings and young trees for shelter from my gaze and, maybe from my conversation.
I took a final couple portrait shots while looking in through the branches and figured I had hassled the poor critter enough. I went along my way, saying quiet, but not silent, goodbyes to the pointy woodland resident.
I paused at the edge of the clearing to put away my camera and to glug a little water before leaving the area entirely.
From there it was a five or ten minute walk uphill on the muddy two rut work road back to the parking spot and my big white behemoth.
I drove in on Long Reach Lane, a gravel right of way, found a wide spot in the road and parked my big white truck. I got out some hiking gear put it in a small backpack and walked on into the woods heading north on a two rut, one lane work trail. It was a sunny day but not hot, a good day for exploring the woods on or off the trail.
The ruts that passed for a work road were too puddled and muddy for much pleasant walking so I veered east and made my way overland through overhanging evergreens and some light brush. I worked my way over gentle small rises and through shallow dips to a seaside cliff where I sat for a while.
The cliff dropped abruptly from the woods, which pressed right up to the edge. There was little warning I was approaching a cliff except for the sound of the small wavelets breaking below and blue sky showing through the trees where one expected only green. At night one could easily tumble over the edge. It is a few dozen feet high, the ocean laps right up against the foot of the cliff. There is no beach below it at high tide.
I sat quietly and watched the gulls and ducks swimming and fishing for their meals. I sat for around a half hour and drank some water and ate some crackers and cheese I had brought along.
After a little indecision, I stood up and looked at a little game trail and foot path that led away from my spot on the cliff. I decided to explore some more.
I headed north paralleling the coast for a while, maybe twenty to thirty minutes, to a nice little cove about a hundred feet wide at most. The trail led gently down to the beach, there was no need to climb down to get there.
The tide was falling. I could tell from the wet beach which had been exposed as sea level fell. I stood quietly and listened to the water lapping on the shore, but only stayed about ten minutes or so.
I went from there northward following the faint foot path that followed the contour of the shoreline. The trail led me north and then took a short turn east and then rounded back southward toward where I figured the rut road I came in on must lie.
I explored a little cove with an abandoned run down houseboat anchored in the muck near to shore. In this section of the park the hills ran pretty steeply toward the water. The hills were pine forested with smell of pine forest soil drifting upward in the gentle warmth.
Eventually, I found my way back to the two rut road and figured to work my way back toward where I had parked my old Chevy Tahoe, "the behemoth".
On my way, I came upon an acre-sized clearing cut in the woods that looked to be a forest management project. There were stacks of cut wood and of brush... branches and brush in heaps here and there. No people or trucks or tools were in sight.As I quietly stalked up on the clearing, I saw what looked like an upside down bushel basket of sticks moving away from me. As I made my way closer, I could see it was not animated sticks come to life but a porcupine.
When he saw me he started with some high speed, evasive waddling. It is only my guess that the porcupine imagined it to be high speed, but he did pick up the pace when he saw he had company. Porcupines do not seem to run much nor too fast.
I followed and talked soothingly to the critter for a while. There was no reply from the porcupine. He hurried along seemingly unimpressed with my friendly, calming banter.
I let him get ahead of me while I unslung my backpack and took out my camera. I took a couple shots of him as he ambled away and through the clearing and to the east away from the rut road leading out of the area and back to my truck.
Eventually the needled beast, presumably having grown tired of my too close companionship, climbed into an uncut clump of small pine saplings and young trees for shelter from my gaze and, maybe from my conversation.
I took a final couple portrait shots while looking in through the branches and figured I had hassled the poor critter enough. I went along my way, saying quiet, but not silent, goodbyes to the pointy woodland resident.
I paused at the edge of the clearing to put away my camera and to glug a little water before leaving the area entirely.
From there it was a five or ten minute walk uphill on the muddy two rut work road back to the parking spot and my big white behemoth.
I had bothered
one of Nature's pointy creatures,
ever so slightly,
and lived to tell the tale,
un-punctured.
No comments:
Post a Comment