Wet Coyote

The Lower Waccamaw River is a long green gallery fronting black water in the springtime. It’s full of life. No lions or tigers, but there are bears. A deep-voiced bull frog said goodbye to us this morning from our Bull Creek anchorage as sun ripples marched across the wall of spring green to our southwest. Dragonflies arrived to feast on lingering insects attracted by our lower anchor light.

Turtles (Yellow Belly Sliders and Softshells) sunned themselves everywhere they could find a platform. Eagles preened and fished and preened and fished. They are no longer a rare sight, but they still elicit a “wow.” Osprey chicks waited for breakfast (well away from the eagles). Herons and egrets also kept their distance as they glided through early shadows. Cardinals swooped from one wall of green to another just missing splash landings at the bottom of each swoop. Wood peckers pecked wood.

And today, a coyote swam across ahead of us and made his way into the suburbs just beyond the river’s departure from the ICW.  What we saw was an infinitesimal part of what was going on around us.

The faster boats missed it all.

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