There are two Stony Hill Roads on the South Fork, one in Amagansett in East Hampton Town, the other in Noyac, in Southampton Town. How did they get their names? By chance? No! They got their names because of the presence of boulders left by the receding glacier more than 15,000 years ago.

Geologists early on termed these boulders glacial erratics. They were deposited here errantly by the last glaciation. Take a ride through Pennsylvania, the northern Midwest, or the northwest of California and you will see a trail of glacial erratics, some as big as a barn, all from the same receding Wisconsin glaciation as it melted away to the north under the influence of a long-lasting warming trend, a trend, mind you, that lately has been picking up speed under the influence of global warming.

Long Island has some mammoth glacial erratics. Much too enormous to be moved by modern earthmoving equipment, they have remained in place where they came to rest after being deposited by the glacier. We don’t see those that are still covered by earth, only the ones that rise out of the earth or rest on its surface. Many are still on land, and many are fully submerged or partially submerged by the marine waters of Long Island Sound, the Peconic Estuary, and by Block Island Sound and the Atlantic Ocean around Montauk.

Lion Head Rock is just one of those many that sit in Gardiner’s Bay, Split Rock sits beside an old trail through Montauk’s Hither Woods, Jason’s Rock reaches up between Bull Path and Two Holes of Water Road in Northwest, and two enormous ones sit in western Southampton Town, one near Stony Hill Road in Noyac, the other south of Great Hill Road in North Sea. My favorite large glacial erratic is the one that sits on the east side of Springy Banks Road, where Hand’s Creek Road enters from the west. It is accompanied by a large lop tree, a white oak, well more than a hundred years old, and the two represent a kind of monument to early East Hampton and the Duke Estate.

The waters in and around Sag Harbor sport an array of large erratics. A bunch lie in plain view during low tide in the shallows of the Sag Harbor inlet on the east side of North Haven. A big one that has become a favorite perch for double-crested cormorants sits in Sag Harbor Cove south of Long Beach Road, where Short Beach Road begins. Since almost all of these erratics are hard rock, such as granite, in composition, they erode very slowly. Where there is a crack in one such as that in Split Rock, trapped water when it freezes can widen a narrow slit into a gaping fissure over time.

Skin or scuba dive in the waters off Montauk and you will find that the glacial erratics reach far offshore, especially the ones that you don’t see from the beach. The glacier that created Montauk reached a couple of miles offshore. Montauk is a mere ribbon of what it used to be. Old Montauk is underwater, both on the south and on the north. Surfcasters use the same exposed erratics over and over again — one might say they own the ones they stand on. The underwater parts of these half-submerged boulders are often covered with barnacles and seaweeds. In other words, they are micro-marine habitats.

Lichens often cover more than half a given erratic’s surface. They are mostly gray-green in color, but occasionally an orange, yellow, or white one is found. They can be very old, as they spread very slowly. Mosses and even ferns can often be found growing in a large erratic’s cavities that have collected a little soil over time. In an age when one fad follows another in short order and fashions come and go in the wind, it is comforting to pass a large erratic by the side of the road or on a trail and know that it is almost ageless, at least as old as Long Island itself.

You won’t find any glacial erratics along the southern part of the South Fork west of Montauk and well south of the terminal (or Ronkonkoma) moraine, except in a few spots where the ice sheet almost reached to the ocean, as at Kellis Pond in Bridgehampton. The ocean beaches from Napeague to the Rockaways are sandy, not stony.

If you walk along a north-south transect, say in Water Mill or Bridgehampton, from the moraine south, you will find that the rocks and stones get smaller and smaller and then disappear altogether. The south half of the South Fork is made up of rich sandy soils, perfect for cultivation. Hardscrabble, a place name for the land south of the moraine reaching to East Hampton Airport, is one of those in-between spots where the sandy soils have a mixture of stones and sand — not prime agricultural land for cultivation.

Where railroads and paved roads have been built and maintained over the years, the once-visible erratics have been removed. In some spots within the last 50 or 60 years, some glacial erratics have been decorated with paint. A few have been carved into. But most of them are in good shape, even in back and front yards, such as along Alewife Brook and upper Springy Banks Roads, where they soften the residential landscape.

There is an old saying that a naturalist steeped in fauna and flora eventually becomes a geologist, and I find myself on that route in later life. The birds and mammals come and go, but the glacial erratics are more permanent, as in the rest of geology. Long Island mostly came from the north by way of glaciers: You have to drill a hole a thousand feet deep in Montauk to reach bedrock, but in New York City you can dig down a few feet and find it.

On Long Island, unlike state-protected tiger salamanders and federally protected sandplain gerardia plants, glacial erratics are not protected by any federal, state, county, town, or municipal statutes. Is that because they are almost timeless in our eyes? Primordial, so to speak? We hate it when a large oak, seemingly almost as timeless, is cut down for a residence or killed by a gypsy moth infestation. In a sense, glacial erratics protect themselves. “They don’t need no stinkin’ badges,” as the saying goes, at least not within our lifetime.

Larry Penny can be reached via email at [email protected].

The next time you fill up your boat with fuel, you may want to have an extra credit card handy. Like the steadily increasing price on land, the cost to top off your tank at your local fuel dock has probably made you flinch, or even dissuaded you from planning that extended cruise to Rhode Island or perhaps rushing off to that distant yellowfin tuna hot spot. And from the look of things, it appears the price will continue its upward trend through the summer.

No doubt about it, basic economics come into play at which boaters, either consciously or unconsciously, tend to curb the use of their craft when the price of fuel reaches a certain point. There is a breaking point where, many times, your wallet is reluctant to get out of your back pocket.

Talking to a local dockmaster the other day when I filled up with diesel (at $4.32 a gallon), she remarked that there is indeed a point where boaters feel the pain at the pump and lessen the time they spend behind the wheel and pushing hard on the throttle. She felt that time will come if the price goes up another 50 cents. Given how quickly it has risen this year, that could happen in the next week. 

After filling up and returning to port following a fishing trip on Monday, I decided to take a look back at my fuel log over the past 20 years of what my Nova Scotia-built boat has sucked down in diesel. It would also be a helpful reminder of the good, bad, and the ugly of the ups and downs of the unpredictable nature of the cost of marine fuel. 

Turning back the pages of history in my weathered spiral notepad, I noticed a high point of an astounding $5.72 per gallon I paid on July 4, 2008.  Ouch! I don’t recall, but I doubt I cheerily celebrated Independence Day 10 years ago with great enthusiasm after paying for my fill-up. And when I looked at whether I used my boat less when compared to other seasons when the price was lower, the answer was very clear. My hours on the water were down over 25 percent when compared to the prior season when fuel was significantly less. 

Right now, the high price of fuel has not held me back from any of my fishing trips. Will that change if the price creeps up to $5? I really don’t think so. I savor and appreciate my time away from terra firma and so value the peace and solitude of a day on the water. It’s really hard to put a price tag on such pure bliss.  

And if you think it through, when you consider the additional expenses like dockage, storage, insurance, bait, tackle, and rudimentary maintenance that’s involved in operating a boat, the amount spent on fuel each year makes up a rather small slice of the entire boating pie. It is okay to loosen the pockets and give your credit card a taste of some fresh, salty air as it gets processed once the tanks are full.

That all said, I have not given up my search to purchase a sailboat.

On the fishing scene, the action has firmed up in many locales with a number of different species now in the mix.

“Fishing has been really good on a lot of different fish,” said Harvey Bennett of the Tackle Shop in Amagansett. “Striped bass fishing off the beach near White Sands and Hither Hills has been excellent, with many fish in the 20-pound range being landed. Some really big bluefish are there too.” The veteran shop owner added that porgies are excellent in Cherry Harbor, while blowfish and kingfish are good in Fort Pond Bay. “And don’t forget that fluke fishing has also been solid off of Napeague, as well.”

“The fishing really can’t get much better,” said Ken Morse, the proprietor of Tight Lines Tackle in Sag Harbor. “Plenty of big bluefish and striped bass are around. Those who live-line bunker near any deep hole or point are doing really well on the bass. Weakfish are being picked up in good numbers, and the porgy fishing, too, has been great at Cedar Point.” As per fluke, Morse said that the fishing has been good, but is dependent on location. “Seems like the better action has been on the north side of Shelter Island the past week, with many large fish taken,” he said. “And if you like blowfish, you are in luck. I had one customer catch 38 the other day.” Morse recommends Noyac Bay and Long Beach as a good place to wet a line.

“The porgy bite out around Rogers Rock, Jessup’s Neck, and Shelter Island remains solid with a bit more larger fish back in the mix,” said Scott Jeffrey of East End Bait and Tackle in Hampton Bays. “Fluke are a bit tougher to find.   Large bass have been chasing bunker around Shelter Island. Over all, the action is hot, so get out there and take advantage.”

Out at Montauk, windy weather has played a bit of havoc on getting to certain fishing grounds. “Fluke are around when the winds allow you to get out,” said Paul Apostolides of Paulie’s Tackle Shop in Montauk. “Striped bass fishing has been good off the beach at night with fish up to 40 pounds taken. And the bluefish have been coming and going.”

We welcome your fishing tips, observations, and photographs at [email protected]. You can find the “On the Water” column on Twitter at @ehstar­fishing.

In only 20 days, the daily photoperiod will start to wane. Perhaps that’s why almost all of nature is focused on reproducing. Osprey eggs are hatching. Crows are roaming the treetops looking for unguarded nestlings. On Saturday shortly after noon a screech owl up the block started singing his wavering whistle in full daylight. The first tropical storm hit the Florida panhandle on Memorial Day.  Observers were quick to blame “global warming.” Hmmm. I wonder.

One hundred and fifty years ago, if you lived at the edge of the Hempstead Plains, once the largest grasslands in eastern North America, you might have been roused from your sleep by the popping sounds of male heath hens promenading in front of an onlooking coterie of females while trying to woo them. The last heath hen, Booming Bob, died on Martha’s Vineyard in 1932. Today in a few Long Island spots one can still hear the drumming of the ruffed grouse, a bird that used to be plentiful here in the Northwest Woods. I haven’t heard of one seen locally since before 2000.

As a boy in Mattituck I woke up each spring to the songs of bobwhites. There are still a few around. A few were heard last year “bob, bob whiting” in Montauk east of Lake Montauk. Ground-nesting birds have become very scarce hereabouts. One that isn’t, however, is the wild turkey, which was reintroduced into Hither Woods in January of 1991 and is now likely to be spotted every spring on almost all the back roads of the South Fork. The male wild turkeys spread their magnificently plumed tails when courting; the one with the prettiest display usually gets the females.

Courting is pretty much over now and precocial wild turkey chicks are already running around feeding on their own, protected by their mother.

The Morton Wildlife Refuge in Noyac is just one of the local spots where you can observe these large birds up close. The males are not only the owners of a beautiful tail, they are also equipped with other devices to get a female’s full attention, namely a fleshy red wattle hanging from the chin and a beard of black feathers protruding from the chest. While keeping a roadkill tally each year since 1982, I am pleased to say I have encountered only a handful of run-over turkeys. Is it because they seldom bolt across a road as deer do? When they do cross, they strut, and usually in the company of others. Because of their size they are hard to miss.

You may have noticed that the local mated pairs of Canada geese already have goslings in tow, whether in the water or on land. Of the thousands of geese that overwinter here, it is hard to know what percentage skip the breeding migration north to nest locally. Is it the young of the local breeders that tend to follow in their parents’ footsteps and choose to skip the flight north? Likewise, mallard ducks have hatched out their young and any pond or creek on the South Fork is bound to have a mallard family growing up but not yet fledged. The seasonally high counts of coliform and enterococcus bacteria encountered in local ponds, say, Georgica and Lake Agawam, are partially attributable to these two waterfowl species.

Some observers have reported to me that mute swan nests seem to be less common than usual. In the winter months these nonmigratory waterfowl gather together in larger ponds that are unlikely to freeze solid for long periods of time, such as Georgica Pond and Mecox Bay. When ice does force them out, they usually sit in the marine waters, especially those parts of the Peconic Estuary that are salty and very rarely freeze over. During courting a female mallard is usually accompanied by two males, but Canada geese and mute swans are about as monogamous as a species can be. It’s easy to tell a male mallard or wood duck from their female counterpart, hard to tell a monogamous male Canada goose from its female courtesan, or the monogamous cob swan from its pen.

Almost all of the other waterfowl go north to breed. Each summer groups of scoters and eiders hang around in the ocean or Block Island Sound just offshore. It is believed that these are birds that have yet to reach maturity, so why not hang around with the tourists and enjoy the underwater mussels and the like while doing so?

Come July, the osprey and bald eagle young will begin to develop their wing strokes while in the nest, and shortly after they’ll be learning how to dive for fish, or in the fledgling eagle’s case, how to steal fish from the fledgling ospreys.

Meanwhile, local populations of oystercatchers, willets, and black skimmers continue to grow. The willets breed in salt marshes, the oystercatchers and skimmers often breed proximate to tern colonies to take advantage of the terns’ aggressive protective behavior when set upon by unwanted visitors. Gardiner’s Island is a favorite spot for them. And let us not forget the cormorants. They nest in tree rookeries, the closest one to the South Fork being found on Gardiner’s Island.

 It wasn’t too long ago when all of these water bird species, along with the black-crowned night heron, snowy egret, and great egret, were either missing or uncommon. Given protection, however, they are thriving. And let’s not forget the importance of the foodstocks in the local waters they rely on, just as the fishermen do. Let’s hope there is enough to go around. As long as the sand eel and bunker populations are not in trouble, however, there is usually enough food to go around, and I’m told that those two fish populations are just ducky for the moment.

Larry Penny can be reached via email at [email protected].

For as long as I can remember, a strong tradition has surrounded the Memorial Day weekend in my family. It’s a pretty basic one actually: You had to put on your finest swim trunks and go for a swim (usually a very brief one) in the still chilly waters. 

While it is still technically spring according to the calendar, the Memorial Day holiday generally heralds the start of the summer season in my eyes. With that thought in mind, no matter the weather, it was mandatory that the ritual of a saltwater plunge be upheld.

I’m not sure how or why this all started in our family, but even as a very young child, I remember my mother saying we had to partake in such a swim at some point over the three-day weekend. We were not the only ones; there were other kids in the neighborhood who practiced this same tradition. It seemed that my brain was programmed automatically to do this. And bad karma would haunt me if I didn’t.

Last Friday afternoon offered the first opportunity for the annual dip. While not a hot day by any means, the sun was strong as I watched two young kids cautiously enter the waters of Shelter Island Sound at my neighbor’s house next door. Standing up to their knees in the clear water, they moved very slowly together as they waded deeper, until they were up to their waists, arms raised above their heads. The voices of the boy and girl could be easily heard as they chided each other to see who was brave enough to get completely wet first. They stood motionless for five minutes contemplating their next move. 

Finally, and now holding hands, they decided to dive in together. Their plunge took only a split second, but they accomplished their mission with high-pitched screams. Then, rather than run out of the 60-degree water and dry off, they surprisingly remained in the drink for 20 more minutes. Water fights were frequent and their laugher and giggles traveled along the shoreline as they experienced their first swimming adventure of the season. Young innocence at its finest.

Was I tempted to join them? No. I was more than comfortable sitting in my Adirondack chair on the patio enjoying their fun. Besides, Saturday was expected to be a much warmer day for that first swim.

They next day brought out the expected heavy sunshine blended with some dense, early season humidity. Fishing on my neighbor’s boat was on the agenda for the afternoon, accompanied by five young children, most of whom had never caught a fish before. Thankfully, the fishing did not disappoint. The kids enjoyed catching and releasing a mix of porgies and sea robins as we returned to the dock by 4 p.m. As we tied up the boat, the hot, sticky weather felt worse than it had when we left the dock. The stench of skimmer clam bait on my hands reminded me that now was the perfect time to take my traditional swim and clean up too. 

Opening the door to my house, I was greeted by a welcoming blast of air-conditioned air. The Arctic-like environment felt great and provided complete and instant relief. Sadly, the comfortable interior temperature also dissuaded me from a plunge. I opted to take a shower instead, which turned out to be a poor decision, as strong northeast winds and a very cold rain dampened any thought of a Sunday swim and conditions on Monday were not exactly summer-like either. Alas, my traditional swim never occurred.

The streak had to end at some point. It was a good run that lasted over five decades. Not bad. I will attempt my dip next year. I just hope the boy and girl I witnessed on Friday taking their first swim will continue the same Memorial Day tradition for many years.

As per the fishing scene, the mixed bag of weather either helped or hindered the catch.

“Sunday was a total blowout,” said Harvey Bennett, proprietor of the Tackle Shop in Amagansett. “But on the other days, the fishing was excellent on many fronts. Bass fishing has been really good on the ocean beaches with fish up to 20 pounds mixed in with some weakfish, while fluke can be had off Accabonac, Napeague, and Clearwater. Big bluefish are in thick at Sammy’s Beach and the porgy fishing in Cherry Harbor has been excellent most days.”

Sunday’s lousy weather allowed Bennett to watch the Indianapolis 500. “I love Indy car racing and always wanted to go there to see it live,” he added from his store, where numerous autographed pictures of race car drivers can be seen on the well-weathered walls. 

“Striped bass fishing has been excellent,” said Ken Morse of Tight Lines Tackle in Sag Harbor. “And some real big fish will likely be seen with the full moon on Tuesday.” The late May moon usually sees a number of stripers landed in the 30-to-50-pound range. Morse said that fluke fishing has been good at Cedar Point and Greenlawns, while porgy fishing remains solid in Noyac Bay and other local spots. Mixed in with the scup are a few weakfish.

“Big bluefish are still hanging around,” said Sebastian Gorgone of Mrs. Sam’s Bait and Tackle in East Hampton, shortly before departing for France on Saturday evening for a much-anticipated 10-day cruise. “Porgies are really good in Cherry Harbor and the bass fishing in the bays and from the ocean beaches has been pretty consistent.”

Those who like to pursue their fish via light tackle or fly-casting also reported some good action of late. “Fishing has been very good on really big bluefish,” said Capt. Ken Rafferty, a light-tackle fishing guide based in East Hampton. “On Saturday we went into the Peconics and caught and released a load of 15-to-20-pound bluefish. It’s been a good start to the season so far.”

At Montauk, the striped bass action continues to heat up along the beaches and in the rips, while bluefish are starting to make their appearance known. For those focused on fluke, catches continued on the upswing. A few of the larger party boats, including the Miss Montauk II and the Ebb Tide, even braved it out in Sunday’s messy seas and still caught some nice flatties. The fish are there.

“The fluke are starting to spread out from up to the north all the way to the south side,” said Capt. Michael Vegessi of the Montauk-based Lazybones. “The best fishing is still on the south side with some bigger fish, but it’s good to see many areas beginning to produce.” It will only get better, too. The Bones sets sail every day at 8 a.m. and 1 p.m.

We welcome your fishing tips, observations, and photographs at fish@ ehstar.com. You can find the “On the Water” column on Twitter at @ehstar­fishing.

Striped bass anglers are a bit different from most. They are by nature a rather secretive group. Whether from boat or shore, many are very protective of their favorite fishing haunts. Quite a few also refuse to reveal what they caught and what lures were used successfully on their most recent outings. Bad weather rarely inhibits their pursuit. Other than hooking them up to a lie detector, you’re usually not going to get a straight, honest answer to many of your questions.

A close friend of mine is one of these people. While I have never been invited on his boat to fish for stripers, I do know he is very successful. He only fishes at night, usually pulling quietly away from his slip at 3 a.m., depending on the tide, and returns home most times before the sun breaks over the horizon. While out on the water, he keeps a close eye to ensure nobody is either following him or fishing near him. To ensure stealth mode, he leaves his navigation lights off. 

I see him several times a week and I always ask how the fishing is. The reply is usually rather bland and benign: “Not bad” or “Decent.” I don’t press the issue, nor do I ask what lure is the hot one. While I have a hunch as to his fishing methods and know the general area where he likes to fish, I respect the time and effort he has put into fine-tuning his craft and will not encroach on his turf. He’s paid his dues over several decades to ensure success, and I’m not about to mug him. Friendships can be quickly broken over something like that.

The desire to catch a striper in the night is not high on my list anyway. I throw back most of the fish I catch as it is, and despite having radar on my boat, I’ve never enjoyed operating a vessel under the stars. My own passion for fishing has always been strong, but I guess I’m just more laid back by nature. 

While I’m an early riser, I don’t mind baiting a hook with a piece of clam for porgy after I’m finished with breakfast. For my secretive striped bass friend, I admire his intensity and passion for one of our foremost game fish, no matter the time of day or night.

As for those striped bass, the fishing in the bays picked up strongly over the past week as linesiders up to 20 pounds have been feasting on a heavy diet of bunker and butterfish.

“Bass fishing is really good and the bigger stripers should be showing up any day now,” said Ken Morse at Tight Lines Tackle in Sag Harbor. “Big bluefish are everywhere too and sometimes can interfere with the bass fishing.” Morse said that porgy fishing continues to hold up and that weakfish up to 8 pounds can be had at buoy 16 in Noyack Bay on jig heads tipped with rubber bodies. He reports fluke fishing as decent. 

As noted by other tackle show owners, Morse is having a hard time securing local spearing, a small baitfish that fluke consider to be a main source of their diet. “I have not seen a single school of spearing yet this season. And even those commercial fishermen who net them have said it’s been extremely poor. I was fortunate to get a delivery of 80 packages a few weeks ago, but I think I have only one left.” I concur with Morse and others on the lack of this popular baitfish this spring.

Over at the Tackle Shop in Amagansett, owner Harvey Bennett ran down a long list of fish that are now running well in local waters. “You name it, you have a good chance to catch it,” he said behind the counter of his shop on Montauk Highway on Monday. “Striped bass and big bluefish are all over the place from Napeague to Gerard Drive in Springs. Good bass fishing on tins and bucktails are on the ocean beaches, while blowfish, porgies, and kingfish can be had in Fort Pond Bay.” Bennett was equally enthused about the freshwater fishing in Fort Pond in Montauk. “Excellent action on walleyes and smallmouth bass there,” he quipped while repairing a well-used fishing reel. “Big fish, too.” 

“Big bluefish are in the bays and rat-sized bass are around in large numbers in Three Mile Harbor,” said Sebastian Gorgone of Mrs. Sam’s Bait and Tackle in East Hampton. “Fluke fishing has been rather quiet, but that’s mainly due to the lousy weather we’ve had the past few days as few went out.” 

Despite the busy upcoming Memorial Day weekend, Gorgone is looking forward to a 10-day Mediterranean cruise that commences on Saturday. “We’re going to France, Portugal, and the Rock of Gibraltar to name a few places. But I’m making sure the shop is well stocked in my absence.” Bon voyage!

Out in Montauk, striped bass action for surfcasters has been solid of late. “No big fish yet, but plenty of fish to 30 inches are being taken from Montauk Point westward along the beach,” said Paul Apostolides of Paulie’s Tackle Shop. The veteran shopowner recommends fishing with bucktails or tins.

“Fluke fishing has been improving on a daily basis,” said Chris Miller of Westlake Marina in Montauk. “Weather conditions play a big part in the catch, but some nice fish have been weighed in. As for striped bass, the fish are starting to show up in the various rips off the lighthouse and should gain momentum shortly.”

Not all striped bass-fishing spots are classified as top secret. 

We welcome your fishing tips, observations, and photographs at [email protected]. You can find the“On the Water” column on Twitter at @ehstar­fishing.

Last Thursday afternoon I had the good (bad?) fortune of being in Montauk. I had heard the talk about moving the downtown (to where, I wonder), putting in a sewage treatment plant (where would the outfall go, I wonder), ospreys coming back to nest, and the like.

Montauk looked solid enough, however, and I began to think that overstatement was the likely cause of so much concern.

That optimistic overview was suddenly wiped away, however, when I turned onto Industrial Road from Flamingo Avenue, then onto Second House Road. What happened to Brushy Island? The only sign of it remaining in Fort Pond was a single stump sticking up about a foot above the surface. The rest of it had completely disappeared from view. Uh-oh, I thought, not only is the second largest freshwater pond on Long Island plagued with blue-green algae, it had reached a record-high water level. Given a big coastal storm with lots of rain and wind, the pond will be splashing onto Industrial Road and into the buildings across the street.

It’s hard to imagine that less than 100 years ago, Brushy Island was doing fine. The botanist Norman Taylor had written about the American basswood tree growing on it, the only one he found among the hundreds of native plants he discovered in the whole of Montauk in the 1920s. The island is still visible on the Google satellite map for Montauk, but only as a vague shadow.

If only the town had trenched under the Long Island Rail Road tracks and installed a conduit to Fort Pond Bay to reduce the pond’s water level before damages to the generator station and massive battery-to-be could be avoided. The two main high-tension electrical cables serving Montauk, which once ran from the Long Island Power Authority’s Amagansett substation on steel poles across Napeague, are now buried along the north shoulder of Route 27. The two lines leave 27, course through Hither Woods to the nexus of Second House and Industrial Roads and then onto the National Grid station on the north side of Fort Pond.

In fact, before the Long Island Rail Road was extended to Montauk at the turn of the 19th century, Fort Pond used to be regularly sea-poosed to Fort Pond Bay so that fish, including alewives, could move back and forth between bay and pond for spawning and feeding purposes. Alewives have been missing for more than 100 years, but the freshwater clams that still survive in the pond owe their lives to them. The larvae from their spawning would attach themselves to the alewives’ gills and ride out to sea with them at the end of summer. 

Freshwater clams also reside in Big Fresh Pond in North Sea, which still plays host to an annual coming and going of breeding alewives and their young via North Sea Harbor. I would imagine that those ones in Fort Pond at its north end could be 100 or more years old. I have yet to find a little one amongst them. Hard clams, or quahogs, can live to be centenarians, why not closely related freshwater clams too?

There are several explanations for Fort Pond’s inevitable rise. Fresh groundwater that fills the pond rides on top of salt water because it is less dense than the latter and is buoyed up by it. As sea level rises — more than a foot since the railroad was extended to Montauk — the fresh water on top rises commensurately. Because Montauk’s groundwater is shallow in thickness and sullied here and there, there is not enough good water to supply Montauk’s potable needs. 

Since the 1990s Montauk has been receiving supplementary fresh potable water from Suffolk County Water Authority wells west of Napeague by way of an underground water main, the same main that provides water to the motels, restaurants and houses along the Napeague stretch. After the Water Authority’s water leaves the motels, restaurants, businesses, and residences by way of septics it becomes part of the groundwater regime, most, but not all, of which flows out to sea on both sides of the Montauk peninsula. Thus there is an additional slow but steady rise in the elevation of Montauk’s freshwater water table as reflected in Fort Pond’s rise. A drought, such as that experienced by Long Island in the 1960s, could reverse this process, but only for a little while.

A downtown sewage treatment plant discharging spent water into the ocean (or Block Island Sound) by way of an outfall pipe would slow this rise somewhat, but what would all that wastewater do to the surrounding marine waters? 

Montauk is just the tip of the iceberg as far as the South Fork and the rest of Long Island are concerned. Has anyone actually run the numbers? Are there enough pure, fresh groundwater reserves in the Upper Glacial, Magothy, and the Lloyd aquifers to suit Long Island’s ambitious thirst for development? I very much doubt it. Two hundred units here, five hundred there, a new hotel here, new motels there, thousands more single family residences, the Ronkonkoma hub, Nassau Coliseum, the Sayville retirement community. I could go on and on. There is simply not enough potable water under our feet to suit the developers’ and builders’ current and future appetites, which only grow larger and larger as we get bigger and more populous.

Long Island is loaded with planners and different committees that investigate our future water needs and publish annual reports, but there is no getting around it: If we continue to develop at the pace we read about every day in Newsday, we are destined to go the way of countless villages, towns, cities, and, even, civilizations that depended on fresh potable water, but ran out of it instead. 

Larry Penny can be reached via email at [email protected].

Nature itself, left alone without human interference, is what you might call wondrously beautiful in all respects. Even natural death has its positive side. Nothing goes to waste; everything is recycled. Then, humans came along and began to spoil it. Try as we may to recycle, not everything — many plastics, for example — is recyclable. Let’s face it, we’ve made one humongous mess of things and we have very little time before the lights go out to make it right again.

Yes, we can dump the old Tappan Zee Bridge parts into the ocean and create reefs for fishes and other marine organisms, but will a concrete and iron mass ever approach a true coral reef in beauty and functionality? Never. It’s one way to get rid of our junk. China is full of our junk and it is beginning to say, “no more.” We live in a consumer society and the rate at which we consume and jettison nonrecyclable stuff is growing astronomically as our world population continues to grow in pace. 

When I look at a group of deer — does and fawns — feeding quietly in the afternoon sun in the Rock Foundation’s green fields on the north side of Further Lane in East Hampton — I think to myself, “How exquisite.” Somebody else might come along after me and think, “Look at those bastards.” It’s the kind of world we live in. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right? Fine arts — say, the celebration of millenniums of human aesthetics — have become so abstract that some of us no longer find them beauteous, just as some of us no longer find nature beauteous.

I’d like to ask the robin on the lawn how it sees the world, but we speak different languages. That male Baltimore oriole singing its territorial song high above in the oak tree is quite beautiful to most viewers and listeners, but what is its concept of beauty? A leaf full of gypsy moth worms just waiting to be gobbled down? Again, we speak different languages.

Most of us humans have a couple of years of preschool, 12 years of elementary, middle, and high school (some more than that), then, perhaps, four years of college and finally graduate school. Some of us spend 20 years or more learning this and that special discipline, but still have problems behaving properly. We take drugs, smoke, drink too much, then discover that our role models are as defective or more so than we are. Meanwhile, nature is always there waiting in the wings for us to recover, for better or for worse.

We don’t know for sure, but we think that the birds nesting in the bushes at the edge of our property lead much simpler lives. They court, build nests, lay eggs, incubate them, feed young, and fledge them. We, on the other hand, struggle with housework, paperwork, getting this or that fixed, corresponding, nurturing, answering robo calls or removing spam and trash from our cellphones, driving here and there and back, making ends meet, and the like. Yet we are the most advanced species in the evolutionary hierarchy. It doesn’t make sense that we do so much and have so much to do, does it?

As I grow old and visit more and more doctors, I’ve noticed that landscapes are the most common pictures in doctors’ offices. I find them pleasing to look at while I wait to be diagnosed. I don’t watch American mysteries on TV because the backdrops are mostly urban streets and buildings, but instead watch British ones over and over just to take in the pleasing and peaceful scenery. In a way, the British ones are more gory, but the juxtaposition of the ugliness and the beauteous countryside, even as seen at night, keeps me enraptured.

We are told over and over that we are the most advanced of God’s creatures, yet we kill and harm one another with abandon, whether in wars, on highways, or clandestinely. And most of us live in cities, 24.5 million in Shanghai, nearly 9 million in New York City by last count. Cities are the smoggiest spots in the world. Some — such as Saudi Arabia’s capital, Riyadh — are so bad one has to keep a respirator handy just to survive. More than a million of us gather in Times Square annually to ring in the New Year. Obviously we are mostly homophilic, we like to be with our own kind, no matter the consequences.

Birds that are territorial while breeding often become gregarious when migrating or spending the nonbreeding season in the tropics. Indeed, passenger pigeons before the turn of the 19th century were as common as starlings and blackbirds are today, so homophilic that it led to their collective downfall and subsequent extinction.

When the ospreys come back from South America, Central America, and the Caribbean in late March and early April, they must heave a sigh of relief when they find their old nest poles still standing. Some may have been tilted by northeasters, but none have been bulldozed to make room for new buildings. I bet for them, it’s sort of like when I came home to rural Mattituck on the North Fork from Oakland, Calif., after being discharged from the Army. No barracks, superhighways, tall concrete buildings, just green trees and verdant fields.

It’s hard for me to hold a bustling urban scene in my head long enough to frame it in my cerebrum. A pastoral scene on the other hand is easily farmable and can last forever. If Beethoven were alive today, could he have composed his sixth symphony? That music called hip-hop which has been around for almost a half century now and is still going strong is anything but pastoral; it’s suggestive of life being lived at a frantic pace, life in bars, elevators, subways, crossing city streets, hollering for taxis and the like. But, Norway rats don’t seem to mind it at all.

After the last bomb has fallen, the last high rise has been smashed to smithereens, and hip-hop has become a faint memory, these rodents from Eurasia that are uniquely adapted to thrive in such harsh and uninviting environments will do fine, just like the fish that will take to the old rusting Tappan Zee parts once they are cast into the waters off Long Island.

The knowledge that not a single one of us Homo sapiens will live forever on this planet or any other may be the best saving grace of the lot!

Larry Penny can be reached via email at [email protected].

The sad saga surrounding the black sea bass season continues to frustrate anglers. At an Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Council meeting last week in Stony Brook, the group voted to adopt last year’s inequitable black sea bass quota for this upcoming season, which cuts New York’s black sea bass allocation compared to neighboring states, even though the black sea bass stock has rebounded and is currently 240 percent above target biomass.

While the sea bass season will open on June 23, four days earlier than in 2017, anglers can retain only three fish over 15 inches through the end of August, when the quota increases to seven fish. By comparison, New Jersey’s season for black sea bass opened in May and anglers can keep 10 fish over 12 inches; by November, 15 fish can be kept.

“No doubt about it, the D.E.C. and A.S.F.M.C. screwed us on sea bass,” said Capt. Michael Albronda of the charter boat Montauk. “It’s totally ridiculous and just not fair at all.”

“This ‘deal’ is no victory for New York fishermen and is worse than status quo with other states receiving an increase,” said Representative Lee Zeldin. “New York continues to roll over for the A.S.M.F.C. while New York fishermen get screwed. I will not pull the wool over the eyes of hard-working New York fishermen and claim victory. Any deal on behalf of New York fishermen needs to place them on a level playing field with New Jersey and Connecticut, and this deal, cementing a quota cut for local fishermen in comparison to other states, is not equitable. I will not accept anything less than what New York fishermen, both recreational and commercial, deserve — parity.” 

To any casual observer, it is clear that the sea bass population is at an all-time high. In my last two trips on my boat, I landed (and released) a number of large black sea bass while fishing for porgies and fluke. One can only hope that sanity will one day prevail with various government and fishery officials to reset the regulations and properly level the playing field. Until then, boat and business owners who rely on black sea bass for part of their income will continue to shake their heads in disbelief.

“I mean, something has to change at some point,” added Albronda.

Outside of the black sea bass maelstrom, fishing continues to improve on several fronts as water temperatures continue to rise. Bay water temperatures have reached 60 degrees in spots and boating activity, either by power or sail, is increasing on a daily basis.

Speaking of Albronda, he took some time off with some friends to take the long boat ride westward from Montauk to Jessup’s Neck for porgies on Friday, where they fished next to my boat. We witnessed decent fishing but small fish made up most of the catch. “There has been a lot of fishing pressure the past few years on the spring porgies,” he said. “Three years ago, they were all jumbo spawners in that area, with just about every fish over two pounds. Not anymore.” Indeed, in addition to one Montauk party boat making the long trek, two head boats from Connecticut were also on the fishing grounds that morning.

“The lilacs are starting to bloom and the weakfish have arrived right on schedule,” announced an excited Harvey Bennett at the Tackle Shop in Amagansett. “The box traps in Amagansett are getting them and I had a customer on Sunday catch two of them in Northwest Harbor. Also, there are a lot of big bluefish off of Accabonac Harbor and Gerard Drive, but they have been a bit finicky and tough to catch at times.” 

Bennett added that those jigging for squid at night are doing very well in Montauk’s Fort Pond Bay. “The squid haven’t been harassed by the bluefish so the jigging has been really good. For those focused on striped bass, they can be had on the bayside and there have been a few shots of them on the ocean beaches.” 

Over at Mrs. Sam’s Bait and Tackle in East Hampton, the owner Sebastian Gorgone suggested taking out the heavy surf rods for the alligator-size bluefish that are terrorizing the local shoreline. “The fish are really big and mean off of Gerard Drive,” he said. “Leave the light tackle at home.” Gorgone added that striped bass can be had in Three Mile Harbor on small lures, while those looking for fluke have headed up to Greenport for decent action. “And folks are waiting for the jumbo porgies to show up in Cherry Harbor,” he added. 

On the tournament front, the Montauk Surfmasters Spring Shootout will run from tomorrow through July 7. The tournament will include an adult division as well as an open catch-and-release division. Kids and youth tackle prizes will be awarded for the top three bluefish and striped bass. 

The tournament raises money for a local scholarship fund, while supporting and prompting catch and release. Registration is online at montauksurfmasters.com or in person at Paulie’s Tackle Shop in Montauk. The entry fee for adults is $100. There is no entry for the kids and youth divisions. 

Paulie’s and West Lake Marina are the two official weigh-in stations for the tournament. 

We welcome your fishing tips, observations, and photographs at fish @ehstar.com. You can find the “On the Water” column on Twitter at @ehstarfishing.

Last week’s surge of hot weather was much needed in so many ways. A number of popular pursuits like gardening, planting of crops, and fishing were all affected by the extended and painfully cold spring weather. Other than a trip or two to the lobster grounds, I never even considered wetting a line to go fishing. It was just too windy, cold, and damp most days. But the burst of heat changed all of that in a hurry. 

While Friday was not as warm as the previous two days, it was time to get the bait out of the freezer and take a ride to the fluke grounds. The season for the popular flatfish opened that day and many other anglers had the same idea. 

Pulling away from my dock slip at 7 a.m. with a hot coffee in hand, I was joined by Robert Cugini, a good friend from Seattle, who also has a place with his wife in Sag Harbor. Every November, Cugini faithfully flies in from the West Coast to join me for the opening week of bay scallops. He told me that he already has secured his plane reservations for the scallop season that’s still six months away. Now that’s dedication.

While his passion for scallops runs deep, for some reason he had never done any fishing in his 20 years as a part-timer on the South Fork. It was certainly time to break that streak and hopefully land a fish or two for dinner. A 30-minute ride to the west side of Shelter Island, an early season fluke spot, was our intended destination. 

About a dozen boats, including a few party boats, greeted us upon our arrival. A light, warm southwesterly wind rippled the waters ever so slightly as the engine was shut off for our first drift of the season. Squid strips and local spearing were our baits of choice and we promptly dropped our rigs into the clear 50-foot depths. Last week, the bay temperatures hovered around 47 degrees, but they jumped to 55 degrees with the heat. We hoped the fluke had followed the warming waters from their winter grounds far offshore.

While pods of bunker rolled on the surface nearby, the first two drifts on the outgoing tide produced nary a bite. The action on the others boats was similar. Moving farther to the south in shallower water, our luck finally changed. But the first fish of the day was a sea robin landed by Cugini. While not our intended species, at least he caught his first fish. He was off the hook so to speak. A few minutes later, I nabbed a keeper-size porgy and finally an undersize fluke (anglers can retain four fish over 19 inches).  

We made a few more drifts before the tide slowed down. We landed a few more fluke, including a keeper, plus a large number of sea robins and a nice black sea bass, which sadly had to be thrown back as the season does not open until later in June. Nearing 10:30 a.m., it was time to call it a day, as we both had a number of chores to do around the house.

By no means was this a great morning of fishing but given the lousy weather we have dealt with for so many weeks, it did not matter to us. It was just good to be on the boat to relax. It also gave my friend an opportunity to try something different for the first time. He is now looking forward to his next trip at the end of May. He’s hooked. 

In other areas, fishing activity picked up. While Montauk is still shaking off the cobwebs of a long winter, a few boats made the trip outside the inlet. Most tried for fluke, but a few others, like the Viking Star, made the long trek westward to the bays to find porgies.

“Fluking was okay, but the waters are still cold,” said Capt. Michael Vegessi of the Lazybones party boat. “The water is about 44 degrees, but the action should continue to build over the next few weeks.” The Bones is out there every day, weather permitting, with half-day trips at 8 a.m. and 1 p.m. 

“There are small striped bass all over, including Hither Hills, Georgica, and in all of the harbors on the bay side,” said Harvey Bennett, owner of the Tackle Shop in Amagansett. “Big early season bluefish have shown up off of Accabonac Harbor as well as some porgies in Cherry Harbor.” Bennett said that some nice fluke were taken outside Napeague Harbor as well, and that freshwater fans have done well with largemouth bass at Hook Pond in East Hampton and Fort Pond in Montauk. 

The well-seasoned salty proprietor added that he expects to receive a shipment of Van Staal and Zeebass reels shortly. For those who ply their trade along the surf line, these reels are considered to be the Rolls-Royce and Lamborghini of their class. Lastly, Bennett has expanded his store hours to be open from Thursday through Sunday.

“The squid are in!” said a very enthused Sebastian Gorgone, owner of Mrs. Sam’s Bait and Tackle in East Hampton. “They are getting them off the docks in Three Mile Harbor and Fort Pond Bay in Montauk, as well as in the commercial box traps. How long the fishing lasts is anybody’s guess, as the bluefish are sure to be behind them shortly.” 

Bluefish have a particular taste for calamari. Gorgone also noted that anglers have headed up to the Greenport area to try for fluke with decent results. “And those who went inside the Peconics did well with porgies too,” he said.

Over at Tight Lines Tackle in Sag Harbor, the owner, Ken Morse, welcomed the warm weather, but fishing was a bit on the slow side. “Fluke fishing got off to a mediocre start, but there were a couple of keepers taken. Porgies were on the small side too, for those who focused on them.” Morse added that some small stripers are around in the various coves and bays. “The action should begin to heat up soon. It’s still very early in the season.” 

We welcome your fishing tips, observations, and photographs at fish@ ehstar.com. You can find the “On the Water” column on Twitter at @ehstarfishing.

All of a sudden, the trees along our back roads have burst into bloom. The black and scarlet oaks were in full flower by Friday evening. As of Sunday dogwoods were just beginning to leaf out, the lowbush blueberries and huckleberries that make up the bulk of the shrub layer are leafing out and blooming simultaneously. 

For those among you who say that the deer are eating up the understory, drive through along Sagg Road, Swamp Road, or Two Holes of Water Road and you will see seas of green two to three feet high. The understory has survived the winter and the deer exceedingly well.

By the weekend the Napeague shads and Long Beach beach plums should be blooming snowy white. Then come the white dogwood flowers, followed by the pinkish white mountain laurels. If you are lucky, you may still find a few bird’s-foot violets in flower, say along Old Northwest Road and maybe even a blue lupine or two among them. Twenty years ago, East Hampton’s side roads were resplendent at this time with these two flowers, but these are modern times and most of them have left us.

If you have oaks in your yard that are not blooming, chances are they are white oaks. They are the last local hardwood trees to bloom and leaf out. And let us not forget those who have lost their pitch pines to the southern pine beetle. Fortunately, the tighter-barked white pines of Northwest have not succumbed. They will expand their range in the absence of competition from the other.

One of the first wildflowers to bloom in Montauk is the trout lily. Victoria Bustamante has been keeping track of the population east of Lake Montauk. They don’t bloom every year, which is probably a good thing because their showy presence would give them away to the hungry herbivores come spring. Lilies come before orchids, which don’t start blooming until late June or July. 

Most of the spring migrants have arrived by now. Terry Sullivan had a male rose-breasted grosbeak in his yard on Monday. Baltimore orioles should be back in a day or two, and the spring warblers, as many as 15 different species, should be passing through any minute now. At least eight species are known to breed here.

In two more weeks I will make my annual nighttime count of whippoorwills. They may be making a comeback if last year’s count is any indication. You hear them, but you rarely see them; listen for a chuck-will’s-widow among them. Each year at about this time, Stephanie Krusa goes to the end of Navy Road at the east end of Hither Woods in Montauk to listen. She is rarely disappointed, at times hearing as many as three different whippoorwills calling at the same time.

Birds that one rarely hears locally these days are wood thrushes, nighthawks, wood pewees, hermit thrushes, ruffed grouse, bobwhites, barn owls, and pheasants. Thank God, the male woodcocks still do their romancing at night over the Montauk grasslands in April, but I haven’t seen or heard one for many a moon.

The run of elvers and alewives is pretty much over for the year. I have yet to smell the oil scent from schools of bunkers in Noyac Bay this year, but then again I don’t smell wafting odors like I used to.

On a rainy night more than a week ago I got a call from fellow naturalist and resident of Sag Harbor, Chris Chapin. Listen, he said, and I did: nasal “cronk” after nasal “cronk” after nasal “cronk” nonstop into the night. The spadefoot toads that live near him were in the nearby recharge basin, finally up and calling after several years’ absence.

Let me know what’s going on in your neighborhood. 

May is my favorite month, have a good one.