The Wrack

A walk in the woods and a chance encounter lead to a path of discovery.

It's been well over a week since our few inches of snow fell and we've been through a a number of melt/freeze cycles over that time. Skis and snowshoes won't be much fun; wear sturdy boots and take your time on the uneven and sometimes icy surface.

Weather is not looking great. Your best bet this weekend is probably Saturday afternoon. Be careful early Saturday, as the roads might be slick. The skies brighten for the start of the work week.

We have no public programs this weekend, and the Visitor Center is closed until April, but next Wednesday at lunch time Sue Bickford will talk about Soundscape Ecology in Mather Auditorium.

I have volunteered at environmental centers for most of my life. The most popular question by far is some variation on "Where is everything? We didn't see anything!" They probably saw lots of things — but just didn't notice them.

The following was published in the Biddeford-Saco?Journal Tribune Sunday edition, 8/17/2014.

Around the time I was twelve, I went through what my parents called the Indiana Jones stage. I wore an officially licensed brown fedora, carried a homemade clothesline bullwhip, and definitely expected to be an archaeologist when I grew up. I even talked my way into a field expedition to the Caribbean island of Grenada, though I was two years short of their minimum age requirement. Rules didnt matter  in search of lost tribes, buried treasure, even whip-cracking adventure, I dreamt only of piercing the jungles dark heart. Cue the trumpets!

Alas, dogs have been barred from the Wells Reserve trails since the early 90's. Why? The short answer is: to preserve nature. But here's my longer answer.

I stopped short on the wooden boardwalk of the Laird-Norton Trail. The fog of my breath flew a few more feet ahead of me, dissipating slowly in the still air. It was my first time at the Reserve, and I was alone in the woods.

And something was coming towards me. Something big.

I tried to swivel my ears in the direction of the sound. Picture a grown man in a business suit, in a ski hat with pinned-up earflaps, trying to swivel his ears.

Crunch-crunch, crunch-crunch, crunch-crunch it came, approaching quickly.

A new boardwalk protects a fragile bog habitat while keeping feet quite a bit drier. This has been a long-desired improvement.

Eight interpretive signs got installed along the Salt Marsh Loop and in the native plant demonstration garden.