Willimantic, Now & Then
Then he leapt out of the stream and into the woods on the other side. Sarah and I were tickled at this unexpected encounter. We count the swimming hole among our “sacred spots,” in the world. Last year we were swimming and then sitting on the rocks until almost dark one evening when a Great Blue Heron swooped down over the trees, intending to land near the stream, but seeing us had to recover itself, struggling back up to the treetops level, and flying in great circles around us.
We were still basking from this encounter with one of our favorite birds when a great horned owl glided silently above our heads and landed in a tree just downstream from us. It flew only 6 or 8 feet above our heads. What a thrill!
Life and Death on the Mt. Hope
By Mark Svetz
WILLIMANTIC –SEPTEMBER, 2007
Willimantic (and nearby!), Now and Then:
It was a Monday, a few weeks back. Our day off found us, as it often does, on the motorcycle exploring the back roads of Northeastern Connecticut.
Today, we started out picking blueberries in Pomfret at Windsong Farm. The sun was warm. The berries were sweet and plentiful. The birds were singing their familiar midsummer, midday songs. We filled the box that fit on the back of the bike, went up to the barn to pay for them, and then rode slowly and lazily home on the back roads.
We decided to go for a swim and headed for our favorite swimming hole.
It is a beautiful walk, about a half mile along a ridge overlooking the Mt. Hope valley. When we got above the swimming hole, we started the climb down to the stream. Looking down on the little falls and the pool we love to swim in, I saw what I thought was swimmers and started to adjust to having company while we cooled off.
It turned out the red-brown I saw was not the suntanned body of a fellow swimmer, but the summer coat of young white-tail buck, standing in the pool, up to his belly in the cooling water. We could see it’s velvet-covered antlers starting to grow.
We approached quietly, watching the deer through the undergrowth. We must have been upwind, because the deer didn’t seem to know we were approaching until we were right on the bank of the stream.
This day, however, the deer was gone into the woods and we started undressing for a swim. I heard a noise upstream and saw the same deer floundering in the water of another pool about 60 years upstream. Sarah and I watched, thinking the animal was having a hard time on the slippery rocks. Suddenly the deer turned to the side in the water and I saw a tawny form on it’s back.
“There’s a mountain lion on it’s back!” I shouted to Sarah. We both stood in awe as this struggle played itself out in front of us.
Now, I was thinking that we had gotten this deer into trouble when we frightened it into the path of the coyote. It seemed like unusual behavior for a coyote to attack a healthy, full grown deer. I think the deer, frightened by us, ran into it’s path and the coyote was surprised and jumped on it. It seemed like the deer ran back to the stream, hoping to find safety.
Sarah and I looked for a stout stick, but couldn’t find one. I ran toward the two animals, engaged again in their life and death struggle. Leaping from rock to rock up the stream bed, I thought more than once, if I miss the next rock, the coyote might have two meals.
As we got closer, we were both clapping and whistling, hoping the coyote would find the approach of two humans too much and get out of there. It did. I chucked a few rocks after it, thinking I would just remove any doubt it might have about this whole tableau.
The deer meanwhile, was standing in shallow water, panting and looking at us. It’s tail was bleeding and stripped of fur near the animal’s rump. It was also favoring one hind leg. We watched it, standing there in the water, not more than a half dozen yards from us.
We wanted to encourage the deer to the other side of the stream from the coyote, as we had no idea where it was. I had walked into the woods in widening circles from where the deer was standing, hoping to the coyote would leave the area.
We “herded” the deer towards the opposite bank, but I think it didn’t want to make the steep climb on it’s injured leg. It kept struggling over the rocks in the stream bed, heading upstream.
We went back down to the swimming hole, excited by the encounter and hoping the deer was able to find it’s way to safety.
“We should get our shoes back on,” I heard Sarah say, as I was thinking we were going to rescue this deer. By this time I had seen the animal on the deer’s back was not a cougar, but a coyote.
I whistled and both animals froze in their struggles. The deer moved again and the coyote shook the water off itself and looked at us. I thought the deer would take this opportunity to get a head start on the predator. But the coyote lunged again for the deer’s back, and both animals splashed down into the water again.
Mark Svetz and Sarah Winter own Clothworks, a shop on Church Street in Downtown Willimantic, where they make and sell clothing and bags. They often cannot resist the siren call of the forests and streams of the Quiet Corner!
