The Narrow River has been a constant in my life — a ribbon of water winding through marsh and meadow, always ready to offer a moment of beauty. Over the years, it’s been a source of endless enjoyment.
Its waters are alive with summer boating and fishing, the kind of legendary pastimes that fill a season with memories. Along its edges, wildlife thrives — an ever-changing cast of characters that keeps a pair of field glasses busy. Egrets stalk the shallows, ospreys hover overhead, terns dive-bombing for silversides, and in the right light, the river seems to hold its breath, waiting for you to notice.
One of my favorite things about the Narrow River is its unpredictability. You never really know what you might see.
Take one morning, for example. I was out on a quick errand — no camera, naturally — when an eight-point buck wandered into view. He strolled through the marsh as if he were out for an early evening promenade, antlers catching the sun in just the right way. It was pure magic. And it’s a moment I can only share through words, because the only photograph is the one in my memory.
For all that the river means to me, I can only imagine what it is to the creatures who call it home. It’s not just water and marsh — it’s shelter, food, and the heart of an entire ecosystem.
I count myself lucky to live in such an extraordinary place. And luckier still that I now get to share it with my grandchildren, watching their faces light up as they discover its wonders for themselves.
How lucky am I.
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