Season's first paddle

Three of us arrived at St. Alban's National Wildlife Reserve in central Maine with visions of a secluded, duck-filled pond for paddling dancing in our heads.

But the dream was still a few weeks away. Late April is still very early spring in Northern New England. The leaves are just beginning to peak out, tiny and pale green, and the edges of the pond are still brown and bare, leaving an exposed expanse of chilly water.

While John and Spencer experimented with turning their telescopes into camera lenses, even without ducks to photograph, I pulled into the water in my kayak. In spite of the cold wind, it was lovely to be there, and I focused on the sensory pleasure of gliding along and hearing the tinkling of water with each dip of the paddle.

Red-winged blackbirds filled the bare bushes along the shore, and tree swallows flew overhead. I spied a loon nest site roped off. Next visit, I'll listen for the loons but steer clear of their space.