March 01st, 2026

The brothers John (a philosophy professor) and James (a retired English professor)—my tribe!—brought their families for a two-hour tour that had us launching just as the heavy fog lifted like a veil on the river, and the day showed its gorgeous face. Three osprey cross-stitched the blue sky, and above them, five turkey buzzards. I was reminded of a line in John Graves’ paddling book Goodbye to a River: “A sky without buzzards seems empty to me.”
 
The kids were full of energy and inquisitiveness, and as we made our way through the rice canal, I heard a wild pig grunt in the wild rice and take off through the mud. Sadly, no reptiles today other than the sunning turtles, but we timed the tide perfectly, paddling up White Creek just as the tide was beginning to ebb, and the current offered little to no resistance. The landscape still had not burst into spring’s greens just yet, but we saw a pair of herons in their rookery when we got back to the big water, where we rode the outgoing tide over the waves of a boat wake, and then right on time to the landing.  
 
The conversation was, as to be expected, literary and philosophical, and I was delighted when the whole family burst out into an impromptu song about their dried mango snacks. Good folks, good weather, good water...great day.