My latest work features the lively cascades and verdant woodland banks of the Hammonasset River, which forms the border between Madison and Killingworth as it courses south from Lake Hammonasset en route to Long Island Sound.
Along its northern stretches, the Hammonasset River is a modest, boulder-strewn brook with cool waters shaded by a dense forest canopy. Swirling pools, rips and riffles along its course are home to Connecticut’s only native trout: the brook trout. These fish are an important “indicator species” because their presence in a stream suggests that the water is sufficiently clean and cool; in short, that the habitat is in good shape. When the brook trout vanish, you can bet that major disturbances to the river ecosystem are to blame.
Oh, and just in case there was any doubt that brook trout still thrive in the Hammonasset, I was more than obliged to pull a fish from the very pool seen here in “Hammonasset Descending” this spring; an exquisite specimen, washed over with some incredible colors and patterning.
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It’s particularly gratifying whenever I see my photography put to use in a publication, even more so when its placement is prominent. This year’s Litchfield Town Guide does just that, filling its cover with one of my pieces from the wildlands of Litchfield, Connecticut.
When I produced my piece, “Ethereal Passage”, in mid-August of 2012 on the boardwalks around Little Pond at the White Memorial Foundation, its cover-worthiness was the last thing on my mind. My only interest in that moment before dawn, as I stood beneath a sky painted with wisps of faintly luminous clouds, was to capture the weather-beaten boardwalk as it meandered its way through shadowy wetlands towards a whimsical vanishing point in the misty, silhouetted forest on the horizon. The shot came together exactly as I had envisioned.
And, as it would happen, “Ethereal Passage” was precisely what Litchfield Magazine had in mind when it began looking for a cover photograph for its 2015 town guide. As a directory of places-to-go and things-to-do in the lovely town of Litchfield, it’s only fitting that the sprawling, 4,000-acre nature preserve in town operated by the White Memorial Foundation would be the first thing readers see!
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My piece, “Salmon River Wildlands”, brings you to the wooded banks of the Salmon River as it meanders through Colchester, Connecticut en route to its confluence with the Connecticut River. Riffles and wisps of whitewater wrinkle the river’s surface, which gleams with reflections of early morning light.
There was a time —back in the earliest colonial era of New England— when the Salmon River’s namesake, Atlantic Salmon, could be seen heading upstream in droves to spawn each year during autumn. It would’ve been a spectacle every bit as impressive as the modern salmon runs of Alaska and Western Canada. But dam-building, among other pressures, delivered a death blow to the species, barricading hundreds of miles of streams and brooks and cutting salmon off from their ancient breeding grounds. Annual migrations that had occurred faithfully for thousands of years in Connecticut came to a grinding halt after barely more than a century of European settlement. The Connecticut River strain of Atlantic Salmon was extinct before 1800, preserved only in the name of a few rivers and brooks where they had once flourished.
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My new release from the Brian E. Tierney Preserve, “Tierney Springtime”, brings you into the wooded hills of Roxbury in Western Connecticut. Jack’s Brook, a lively tributary of the Shepaug River, is found snaking through a rock-strewn glen in the faint morning twilight as broad, verdant leaves of riverside skunk cabbage jostle in the breeze.
Although the lush greenery of skunk cabbage is a refreshing sign of spring, anybody that has traipsed through patches of this plant in the wetlands as a child is all too familiar with the potent stench of its sap. That foul odor, not surprisingly, inspired the comparison to the rank odor unleashed by frightened skunks. Luckily, the stench of skunk cabbage isn’t quite as noxious and doesn’t linger nearly as long as that of an actual skunk, but it’s unpleasant just the same.
In spite of its unfortunate reputation, eastern skunk cabbage is actually a quite remarkable plant which is expertly adapted to the climatic extremes of New England. Beginning as early as January and February, the mottled flower hoods of skunk cabbage can be found melting through the snow and ice on their wetland habitat. That’s right: skunk cabbage is one of the rare plants that is able to generate it’s own heat, sometimes in excess of 20° to 30°F above that of the surrounding air. This incredible ability affords it the opportunity to push its flowers up in late winter in order to draw pollinating insects before its competitors have so much as sprouted. And believe it or not, even that offensive odor serves a very clever purpose. Since the smell roughly resembles that of rotting plants and animals, it attracts flies and similar insects that emerge very early in the year and pollinate the flowers of the skunk cabbage.
But truth be told, finding this natural garden of springtime foliage was actually just a welcome bonus along the route to my planned destination. The sight that had drawn me out to Tierney Preserve to begin with was a waterfall locally known as The Cascades which was mentioned in Russell Dunn’s book, Connecticut Waterfalls: A Guide. He had opted to prepend that generic name with the name of the brook upon which the 15-foot falls are formed, thus making them Jack’s Brook Cascades. You can see this waterfall in my new piece, “The Falls at Tierney” (above), where they weave through a rocky, woodland gorge in the faint morning light filtering down through the springtime canopy.
From a purely technical perspective, the waterfall really is more of a steep, spirited cascade. But I can understand why Dunn included it in his waterfall guide, since Jack’s Brook Cascades are every bit a waterfall by aesthetic standards. That is to say, it simply feels like a waterfall. Suffice it to say, you can expect to see “The Falls at Tierney” added to my ever-growing Waterfalls of Connecticut collection, which I urge you to check out at connecticutfalls.com if you haven’t visited lately. I’ve added a few more waterfalls over the course of the past season, so you’ll probably find something new.
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