Patience is key when visiting a marsh Penjajawoc reveals hidden treasures

If you are patient enough, a marsh will give up its secrets.

I realized this as I stood at the edge of the Penjajawoc Marsh in Bangor. Many of the wetland’s shy denizens seem to excel in the art of concealment; only their voices give away their presence. However, I am continually amazed at what I see if I remain quiet and still in one place long enough.

Thick wetland vegetation provides excellent cover, and many water birds do not make a habit of wandering in the more open areas. But every once in a tantalizing while, when my eyes were in the right spot at just the right time, I saw one or more of the sprites as it moved from one swath of reeds to another.

Last week I had stationed my camera at a spot just opposite an opening in the marsh’s vegetation. The small pool of open water was ringed by cattails and other water plants, and contained a compact island of plants in its center.

As I was adjusting my camera, I happened to catch movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned and just managed to catch a string of young ducklings as they slipped silently – and surprisingly quickly – through the water and back into the wall of vegetation. It happened too fast for me to identify what species they were, but I was tickled to have seen them nonetheless.

A few minutes later another bird made its presence known. A small, chicken-like wading bird called a sora scuttled out from the small island in the center of the pool. It uttered its distinctive, whinny-like cry, and quick as a flash hid itself from my view again.

Marsh wrens were plentiful, but most of the time I could only distinguish their presence by their voices. I guess it depends on what time of day you visit the marsh; I’ve had people tell me they’ve seen several of the birds perched conspicuously atop reeds and cattails. I was only able to see them occasionally, but their voices filled the air, as much a part of the marsh as the liquid notes of the red-winged blackbird. In fact, their lengthy, exuberant, and bubbly songs far outmatched their diminutive size and provided stiff competition for the larger, flashier blackbirds.

The haunting voices of pied-billed grebes drifted across the marsh and added suspense to this lovely chorus. Although these birds frequent the open water of the wetland, they always seem to station themselves at the end of the marsh farthest away from any visiting humans. They were often too far away for me to see clearly.

I felt that day as if I were continually discovering hidden treasures. As I walked through the marsh, the sky filled with billowing cumulus clouds; the gentle murmur of the breeze through the reeds and cattails was a perfect accompaniment to the birdsong that surrounded me. Swallows sailed through the air and tree frogs trilled from the foliage at the marsh’s edge.

I thought: surely this must be heaven.

Chris Corio, a volunteer at Fields Pond Nature Center in Holden, can be reached at fieldspond@juno.com