We're lucky enough to live next to a park that's been carved into the wetlands that our neighborhood butts up against. Because the land is constituted of wetlands, it's federally protected, and no one can build or develop on it. A true blessing and treasure.
The park has about a half mile worth of path that's mowed into it, and if you pick the right day, like we did today, you can see all kinds of wildlife on your hike, including a nice sized group of deer. Today, as we were walking up along the Salt Creek, which borders the park to the east, we caused enough of a racket to motivate about 20 or so of the deer to take off on a gallop about 100 yards or so in front of us. Over the eight or so years I've been hiking in the park, the group has grown from about seven or eight adults to what is now probably about 30 or so adults and fawns at any given time. At night, they come out to graze on the grass, and years ago, before more and more people started moving in, the deer would come right up to the park swings and slide as if they wanted to play. Today, they keep their distance, probably because there are a lot more dogs around.
If you walk early enough in the morning and are quiet enough, you can get within 50 yards or so of where the deer live among a thick patch of trees stretching upward from the greenest, mossiest grass you've ever seen. I've gotten within 20 yards of the deer on certain occasions in the winter. On other days when I've brought my binoculars and picked a good tree to sit underneath, I've been able to watch them do their thing for as long as I was able to sit.
Beyond the deer, you're likely to see dozens and dozens of geese cruising in the creek, countless black birds and crows, rabbits, plenty of hawks, and the occasional coyote and fox. One night, I was in the park hiking under a full moon way beyond the stated curfew when I heard the grass starting to rustle about 20 yards or so behind me. When I stopped walking, the rustling stopped. When I started again, the rustling started again. I'm pretty certain it was a cat of some sort, but I was too scared and just smart enough to not stick around and find out. Not long after, I took photos a largish cat strolling along the bank across the creek. Not long after that I read in the paper a cat had been spotted by more than one person in the area.
I really love this park. In my estimation, it's the best aspect of the neighborhood I live in. I particularly love it in the winter and late fall, and many days when I'm hiking, it's not difficult at all to look upon this land, which has remained untouched by humans for who knows how long and imagine pioneers crossing in wagons and on foot. It's not difficult, either, to imagine Native Americans on their horses riding along the banks of the creek or the various wildlife that populated the area in far greater numbers than today.
These days, the houses the border the park off to the west server as a constant reminder that things aren't the same. Worse, there's a gun range a few miles to the southeast that ironically sound off a constant "pop, pop, pop" from shotguns, as well as a motor cross track not much further away that render a steady "roarrrrr" on certain nights. Still, on any given afternoon, this park has given me a much needed escape from the world that I can reach in just a few blocks on foot. Once there, I can stroll among the native grass and reeds and pools of water and mud, open my ears wide open, and hear birds singing as if just for me. Later, I can meet up with my old deer friends and just let time trickle by the way it was meant to.
The park has about a half mile worth of path that's mowed into it, and if you pick the right day, like we did today, you can see all kinds of wildlife on your hike, including a nice sized group of deer. Today, as we were walking up along the Salt Creek, which borders the park to the east, we caused enough of a racket to motivate about 20 or so of the deer to take off on a gallop about 100 yards or so in front of us. Over the eight or so years I've been hiking in the park, the group has grown from about seven or eight adults to what is now probably about 30 or so adults and fawns at any given time. At night, they come out to graze on the grass, and years ago, before more and more people started moving in, the deer would come right up to the park swings and slide as if they wanted to play. Today, they keep their distance, probably because there are a lot more dogs around.
If you walk early enough in the morning and are quiet enough, you can get within 50 yards or so of where the deer live among a thick patch of trees stretching upward from the greenest, mossiest grass you've ever seen. I've gotten within 20 yards of the deer on certain occasions in the winter. On other days when I've brought my binoculars and picked a good tree to sit underneath, I've been able to watch them do their thing for as long as I was able to sit.
Beyond the deer, you're likely to see dozens and dozens of geese cruising in the creek, countless black birds and crows, rabbits, plenty of hawks, and the occasional coyote and fox. One night, I was in the park hiking under a full moon way beyond the stated curfew when I heard the grass starting to rustle about 20 yards or so behind me. When I stopped walking, the rustling stopped. When I started again, the rustling started again. I'm pretty certain it was a cat of some sort, but I was too scared and just smart enough to not stick around and find out. Not long after, I took photos a largish cat strolling along the bank across the creek. Not long after that I read in the paper a cat had been spotted by more than one person in the area.
I really love this park. In my estimation, it's the best aspect of the neighborhood I live in. I particularly love it in the winter and late fall, and many days when I'm hiking, it's not difficult at all to look upon this land, which has remained untouched by humans for who knows how long and imagine pioneers crossing in wagons and on foot. It's not difficult, either, to imagine Native Americans on their horses riding along the banks of the creek or the various wildlife that populated the area in far greater numbers than today.
These days, the houses the border the park off to the west server as a constant reminder that things aren't the same. Worse, there's a gun range a few miles to the southeast that ironically sound off a constant "pop, pop, pop" from shotguns, as well as a motor cross track not much further away that render a steady "roarrrrr" on certain nights. Still, on any given afternoon, this park has given me a much needed escape from the world that I can reach in just a few blocks on foot. Once there, I can stroll among the native grass and reeds and pools of water and mud, open my ears wide open, and hear birds singing as if just for me. Later, I can meet up with my old deer friends and just let time trickle by the way it was meant to.
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