A project in the shop limited my marsh time to just a few hours, but they were well spent. With all channels now clear, it's just a matter of letting the tide push the debris against the bank for easy scooping.
As I was moving logs through the water I heard the unmistakable sound of adolescent cackling originating from the beach. I turned and found perched atop the dune, teenagers, ten deep, whacking the grass and gawking at me as if I were the Montauk monster. I'm sure they were wondering where my orange vest and the prison guard were. From across the water we exchanged gazes for what felt like a half hour, equally fascinated, and then, with a few more sand kicks, snickers and grass swats, they headed off down the beach. As the weather warms I suppose I should expect more terrifying encounters like this.
There was little camera trap activity over the past week, but I did pick up our fifth species: a meadow vole.