Gibban

S and I portage down the hill to the sea, but turn back, the onshore wind and steady sprinkling rain less than inviting for a canoe trip on open water.  Instead, we load up and head over to the West River.  S has not been there, yet.  In fact, she has spent far too little time in the canoe since we arrived here. It is not long past the turn of low tide when we set the canoe into the river.  Another foot of bank is exposed since I was here yesterday.  I know we won't go too far knowing that the portion upstream of the downed tree will have little canoeable water.  But, the reason to return here is to show S the birds, which don't disappoint.  As soon as we get started, an osprey flushes from a nearby tree. Canada geese complain about our presence, but the others - the red-wing blackbirds, the little yellow birds and the unseen possessors of songs that I don't know, could care less.  A green backed heron flies overhead giving me the shortest instanc...