Odds And Ends

Most of the leaves have come down, except for those of the white oaks in back and the walnut in front between my property and the neighbor's. The acorns finished coming down, at least on my porch roof and patio, weeks ago but there are still plenty of pods left in the locust tree. 

All the important plant work is done, the pots stowed away. With the exception of a couple of small jobs, I can rest for the winter. 

So now I'm looking through the pictures I took that didn't get used in a blog post. 

For instance, here is Speedwell Lake, located not far from where I live. It is stocked with trout, drawing fishermen and fishing birds, including great blue herons, double-crested cormorants and the occasional osprey. I liked the mirror effect in this picture taken in August.

(Margo D. Beller)

This next picture, meanwhile, was taken in October. I was walking along Patriots Path, a Morris County park near me I've written about many times. I was in an area where once heavy rains would create a lake. When many of the trees were removed because of emerald ash borer infestation, there was more light and so more grasses and weeds started filling in the space. On this day I noticed stands of cattails had suddenly (to me) appeared. Unlike phragmites, which are invasive and considered a biological threat, cattails are important for preserving wetlands. Finding these shows the environment is never static. 

(Margo D. Beller)

Sometimes I find things I can't identify, such as this flowering vine. 

(Margo D. Beller)

In October we had several mornings when I woke up to thick fog. This was the view out my front door one such morning.

(Margo D. Beller)

I enjoy the colorful autumn leaves, especially if I don't have to rake them. The camera does not do the scene justice, unfortunately.

Oct. 28, 2023, Patriots Path
(Margo D. Beller)

I like pathway pictures. This is another section of Patriots Path that, unlike the area where I took the picture of the leaves, is paved. It is popular with walkers, bikers and runners. It can also be very good for finding birds if you get there early, before it gets too crowded, but late enough for the sun to hit the tree tops and attract birds looking for food.

(Margo D. Beller)

Once in a while, you find a surprise. One area of Patriots Path I like to hike is along the Whippany River, which will eventually flow into Speedwell Lake. I have found many birds along this path including warblers in season, different types of ducks, great blue herons and Canada geese. But there have been oddities too, including over 20 turkey vultures roosting in a tree (with several black vultures below them on the ground) waiting for the sun to warm them. This time, in late October, my husband and I were walking along here when something noisily took off from a branch high above us. As it flew off I could see it was a mature bald eagle. But then it flew to a tree on the other side of the recycling center across the river. It stayed long enough for both of us to take some pictures. This picture is edited.

(Margo D. Beller)

Finally, here's a long view of the tow path along the Delaware & Raritan Canal, a state park. Canals were how you shipped goods, at least before the railroads came along and made canals obsolete. The two main New Jersey canals were the D&R, much of which remains as a linear park, and the Morris Canal, much of which was filled in for residential and commercial "development" throughout its route. (One of the exceptions is the Morris Canal Park in Jersey City, where the canal emptied into the Hudson River. I frequently visited this park when I worked in the area and, yes, found lots of interesting birds.)

D&R Canal Park, Kingston, NJ, November 2023
(Margo D. Beller)

When Too Much of a Good Thing Can Be Bad

Nobody goes there anymore, it's too crowded.

-- Yogi Berra

As more trees are cut down and more buildings are put up in urban and suburban areas, I've noticed it is rare to have a static piece of open space. It has to feature more things for people to do rather than boring stuff like walking, listening to the birds or sitting quietly on a bench.

These pieces of open land have to include soccer fields, playgrounds, areas for "special needs" people, cross-country running tracks and the occasional field hockey rink. This is known as "mixed use."

Boardwalk under construction at Great Swamp
(Margo D. Beller)

I can understand the need for such facilities. As there is less open land and more people living in new developments, those creating a park know residents need a place to run the dogs or get the kids outside to play in a supervised environment. It adds to the "quality of life," and is an attractive incentive to move to that development.

What I don't like is the effect of such thinking at federal "refuge" areas. 

There is a school of thought that if land is opened to more people, they will want to protect it. Or people who approve the construction of a park want to justify the cost because you can't collect property taxes on land where no one lives or works. In a state like New Jersey, where property taxes are the highest in the U.S. because they are used to pay for so many services, the latter is no small thing.

So, for instance, you have the Central Park of Morris County, created out of the old Greystone Hospital that was closed because of horrendous conditions. Empty stone buildings were taken down, including the historic Kirkbride Building, and the fields opened for soccer, cross-country running, even disc golf. The state had sold the land to the county for $1 at a time when people were yelling for affordable housing to be put on this huge piece of property. The park people won out, thankfully for me and my small town abutting the land, and the park is usually filled with people. If I go there birding, it is early in the morning and never on a weekend during school months.

Here's another example of how the law of unintended consequences could come into play.

In the central part of northern New Jersey lies a 12-square-mile piece of open land that is known as the Great Swamp. Most of it is overseen by the U.S. government through the National Park Service, with sections that became county parks run by adjacent Morris and Somerset counties. Private groups, such as the Great Swamp Watershed Association, also have a hand in making sure people are enjoying themselves responsibly, although park rangers do the enforcing.

Great Swamp entrance, not far from a network of boardwalked
trails (Margo D. Beller)

Half of the property is maintained as "wilderness" where the land is left alone for the most part - mud, overgrowth and all. There are no cinders on the trail, no boardwalks, very few signs. There are birds - wonderful birds - in season as well as deer, fox, possum and sometimes bear, among others.

The other half of the swamp is "managed." Fields are periodically burned to get rid of invasive plants or to open an area to a field bird like the woodcock.The main road through this part was once a real residential street. Little by little the federal government bought up the land. As people moved out the houses were knocked down. That empty road has become a tour road, allowing cars to drive through the sanctuary. Half the road's stretch is paved, the rest unpaved. In another part of the managed area trails are boardwalked to allow people to get to blinds or, in one case I'll get to, an "observation" area.  One particular trail in this part of the Swamp tends to get a lot more people who "find nature" while wearing sneakers or other footwear not suited for mud. On weekends and holidays they bring their kids, who usually rush ahead of them shouting.

Overlook, replacing a blind
(Margo D. Beller)

I avoid this particular trail.

The Swamp, located in the midst of suburbia, serves the same function as New York City's Central Park - a large area in the middle of a concrete jungle where migrating birds can rest before pushing on or arrive to spend the winter. Back in the 1960s, no doubt in the name of "progress," there was a serious move to make the Swamp the New York metro area's fourth airport. Protesters, led by Helen Fenske, fought over many years to get that plan blocked. 

When the Friends of Great Swamp decided to leave its old center at one end of the tour road to refurbish a larger property at the other end, the new visitor center was named for Fenske.

It is what is now taking place across the road from the center that sparked this musing on unintended consequences.

The old center was small. It had a bookstore, a bathroom and a kitchen where visitors could get a cookie, coffee or a glass of water. It had a very homey air about it. Outside were bird feeders, which attracted many birds as well as some of their predators, including a redtailed hawk and a kestrel. 

However, as a place where it could draw large numbers of people for lectures and showcase everything the Swamp has to offer, it was considered insufficient. After the Fenske center opened the old house was taken down. 

The larger center does not offer coffee and cookies. It has a larger bookstore, more bathrooms and more meeting areas, but is not particularly homey. There are still feeders, positioned so those inside can look through a plate-glass window without disturbing the feeding birds.

Winter, Great Swamp (Margo D. Beller)

When the Fenske Center opened several small trails were put in. However, another, much longer trail was soon blazed on the other side of the road. It was dubbed the "White Oak Trail" because, as my husband and I discovered when we walked it one winter, it leads to some huge oak trees several hundred years old. That winter the trail was icy, and I'm sure it became muddy in spring.

Now, it is being boardwalked.

The managed part of the Swamp, as I said, has long had boardwalked trails. And, unfortunately, there was precedent for taking a trail and making it more accessible with boardwalks. One trail I walked all the time was boardwalked until you came to the woods. Then you continued on to a blind. This trail is now fully boardwalked. No more trying to get around ankle-deep water after heavy rain. No more tripping over tree roots. 

No more old blind either - it was removed for a large "observation platform" named for a local environmentalist. It has plenty of seating. More people troop over there, climb the steps, look over the tall reeds at the distant waterfowl. When I am up there, which isn't as often anymore, most of those who come up do not stay long because they are not birding, they are only walking to the end of a boardwalked trail.

On the White Oak trail, before it was paved.
(RE Berg-Andersson)

As for the White Oak trail, even tho it is not completely boardwalked people are already on it. Perhaps one day MH, with his balky knees, and I will do it, too, if only to see what birds are still hanging around the area and check in on the old oaks (like the one in the photo above).

But I think something is lost when you open up an area like this in the name of making it "accessible" and getting people "back to nature." More people mean more erosion, more noise, less opportunity to stand in a truly quiet area.

I guess I am being selfish in wanting governments to leave parks alone. During Covid, this part of the Swamp was one of the few areas not closed down by a misguided federal government and thus available to people who needed to get out during a time of great fear. We came, too, and found the tour road crowded with cars, people walking (many with dogs on a leash) and riding bicycles. People fought over parking places. Cars crawled along the road, just like during rush hour.

It is nowhere near that bad now. But it could become that way again, and that is what I dread.