Do You Use Freecycle?

Several years ago, my husband pulled into our driveway with his pickup truck and said, “Honey, you’ve got to come with me to this yard sale. They’re giving everything away for free!”

We drove up the street, following the signs to the “Yard Free.” A family was moving out of state and downsizing from a large Colonial home to a condo. Rather than try to sell the items they didn’t need anymore, they were just giving them away. They probably figured that they could get rid of a lot more stuff that way. And I’m sure they did. We took home a patio umbrella, a lounge chair, a set of bowling balls in their own custom bag, a set of four outdoor chairs, and plenty more that I can’t recall at this point.

I’ve never seen another Yard Free, but there’s something almost as good out there – the Freecycle Network. Freecycle permits you to post notices about things you’re getting rid of – or things you want to acquire -- on the internet. A list goes out each day to everyone in your Freecycle group, and if someone wants an item – or can fulfill a request for one – they e-mail you and make arrangements for pickup. There is no cost involved, and you end up giving away or getting stuff for free.

There are 4,342 Freecycle groups around the world, including 82 in Massachusetts alone. It is recommended that you join the most local network so you don’t have to use up precious fuel driving all over the place to pick up your free stuff. Some local groups include Bridgewater, Brockton, Canton, Cape Cod, Carver, Hingham, Holbrook, Kingston, Plymouth, Quincy, Rockland and Weymouth.

According to Freecycle, “It’s all about reuse and keeping good stuff out of landfills. It is *not* a place to just go get free stuff for nothing. It *is* a place to give or receive what you have and don't need or what you need and don't have -- a free cycle of giving.”

Basic Freecycle etiquette asks that you give at least one thing away on the network before you start posting notices for things you’d like to receive. And that once you’ve claimed a Freecycle item, you pick it up promptly from the giver – don’t just say you’ll be over “eventually” for that sofa for which they are itching to find a new home.

It’s such a green thing to do. By passing along an item on Freecycle, you are reducing the amount of trash you discard, as well as reusing things that still have life in them.

What can you post on Freecycle? Almost anything. I gave away a child’s car seat that my family didn’t need anymore, as well as two small vacuum cleaners. I’ve got some clothing slated for a future giveaway, as well as some VHS tapes and old computer equipment.

What can’t you post? The usual no-nos – pornography, alcohol, tobacco, drugs of any kind, firearms/weapons or human beings (this isn’t a place for personal ads or matchmaking services). You’re also asked to leave your politics, religion, moneymaking schemes and bad manners at home.

My rules for putting something on Freecycle are slightly more complex. Is it worth my time to sell it on eBay? If not, can I give it away locally? To a friend? To the clothing bank? To the food pantry or another charity? If not – if it’s too bulky (a giant bolt of floral fabric), too strange (a handsome painting on velvet of a Doberman Pinscher), too random (37 partially-used balls of wool yarn), it’s time to post it on Freecycle.

It feels good to pass along things that are still perfectly usable – just not by you. You get to de-clutter your house without feeling guilty about supplying yet another item to the already-too-full local landfill. Plus, you know that someone else is making use of your cast-off.

Plus, the Freecycle Network makes it easier to get rid of something you’re fairly ------ but not entirely – sure you won’t need again in 12 years. If it turns out, many years down the line, that you really did need that set of snowshoes, you can post a notice stating so, and very likely someone else in the network will have some they’re ready to part with.

So far, I haven’t found much on Freecycle that I’ve wanted to acquire. I was delighted to receive two metal folding chairs that I needed for a yoga class. Soon I will post a notice seeking one of those plastic (or wooden) outdoor playhouses for our son. I’ve been tempted by notices for other toys, as well as ink jet printers and a wooden fence – but not tempted enough to actually send an email to find out whether the items have been claimed or not.

I’m looking forward to further opportunities to pass things I don’t need on to other people. Freecycle is inspiring me to take stock of and part with items that have been cluttering up my house for years. Especially now with many towns adopting Pay As You Throw trash removal, Freecycle provides an excellent alternative to just-throwing-things-away.

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
April 2008

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org.

Skunks and Skunk Cabbage Mean Spring is Here

One night in early March I caught my first whiff of skunk spray in the air – a sure sign that spring is on its way.

Other than Pepé LePew and the fact that they are smelly (and can make you or your pets smelly too), I have very few associations with skunk. So I did some research to learn more about these much-maligned critters.

The skunks that live here in New England -- Mephitis mephitis nigra, the striped skunk -- are easy to spot. Their distinctive black and white striped fur and bushy tail make them stand out at dusk, or when your headlights flash on them while driving at night. Unlike other members of the weasel family, they are not especially agile. Their gait is wobbly, and with short legs, they move rather slowly. Perhaps that is why so many of them end up as roadkill. Generally an adult skunk measures 29-36 inches in length, tail included, and weighs 6-10 pounds. The males and female look alike, although the males are 25% larger.

Striped skunks usually make their homes in fields and woodlands, but they are just as happy to live under a porch, deck or shed. Because of their short legs, skunks don’t climb well, but they are excellent diggers. Sometimes they dig their own burrows, but more often they take over that of another animal, such as a woodchuck or fox. The burrows are from 6-20 feet long, with a round room at the end lined with leaves and grass.

Nocturnal, they rest in the burrow during the day, and search for food by night. While foraging, they usually stay within a one-mile radius – but they will go as far as five miles if they need to. Their diet consists primarily of small rodents, insects, and seasonal fruit – but they also will eat the eggs of turtles and ground-nesting birds, as well as garbage and pet food. While not true hibernators, they do tend to settle down in groups of three or four for the colder seasons, emerging only when the weather grows warmer than 30 degrees.

Here, breeding season for skunks is in February and March. Litters of two to ten are born between late April and early June. Six to eight weeks later they are ready to learn how to forage for food with their mothers (the fathers are not involved with raising the young).

While we tend to associate skunk with the stink they can make, the truth is, they spray this scent as a last resort. Skunks will spray when they sense they are in danger – but when possible, they prefer to walk away from danger altogether. If you find yourself face to face with a skunk, it is best to back away slowly. And bear in mind these warning signs. Before a skunk releases its spray, it arches its back, raises its tail, turns its back toward its target, and stomps its feet. The musk is released in a fine spray from two glands on the skunk’s rear end. It can travel a distance of 15 feet – and there is enough in the glands for 5 consecutive sprays.

Taking up residence under your deck, perhaps, or getting trapped in your garage, skunks can be a nuisance. Mass Audubon’s Living with Wildlife is an excellent resource, accessible via the website http://www.massaudubon.org/Nature_Connection/wildlife. It includes some guidelines on skunk problems and how to avoid or fix them.

Another sure (and somewhat related) sign of spring is the emergence of skunk cabbage in wetlands. In mid-March I noticed the rounded purple heads beginning to emerge in a swampy area of my back yard.

Eastern skunk cabbage, or Symplocarpus foetidus, is one of the first plants to bloom in the early spring. This foul-smelling plant produces a bulbous, mottled purple flower, about 4-6 inches tall. The flower appears to be lying in the mud, leaves or moss in which it grows because the stem and leaves do not emerge until later in the season.

The leaves are large – 15-22 inches long and 12-15 inches wide. When torn or trampled upon, they are quite smelly. The smell is not harmful to humans – and in fact it attracts pollinators such as bees and stoneflies to the plant, and helps prevent larger animals from damaging it.

Skunk and skunk cabbage – smelly when disturbed and not especially attractive -- might not be among our favorite things in the natural world. But by winter’s end, it’s a joy to see them . . . some of the first signs of spring!

Sources:
www.massaudubon.org/Nature_Connection/wildlife
www.wikipedia.com
Living with Wildlife: The Skunk in Massachusetts – Massachusetts Department of Fisheries & Wildlife

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
March 2008

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org.

Exploring at a Toddler’s Pace

My son Abel will be two years old in May. Our house is small, and when winter began, I was concerned that as the cold days wore on, it would start to feel like the walls were closing in on us. But so far, we’re doing okay. We’ve learned that we can still play outside as long as the temperature is above thirty degrees. And if it’s colder than that but sunny, if we bundle up, we can still take a short walk or enjoy a brief stay at the playground.

One mild Saturday in February, we were on our way out the door, headed to the playground. It was one of those days where time kept getting away from us. I’d bundled up Abel in his coat, hat and mittens, then realized that he needed a diaper change. Then the phone rang. Then Abel became fascinated with a toy on our screen porch. When I asked, “Do you want to go to see the big slide? Do you want to ride on the seesaw?” he said “No.”

So maybe the playground wasn’t going to happen after all. Anyway, it was getting close to naptime.

Done amusing himself on the screen porch, Abel asked, “See Dada? See Dada?” Then commanded, “See Dada in barn!”

My husband was trying to get some work done. But I figured we could go down and say hello at least, and tell him we weren’t going out after all. On the way out of the barn Abel spotted my husband’s tractor, and commanded “Tractor! Ride!”

This is a common occurrence. Abel likes to sit on the tractor and pretend he’s driving it. So we “rode” the tractor, and then we went to the shed to “ride” the other tractor, and sit on the motorcycle -- and then we did the same loop again, because Abel wanted to touch all the wheels. “Wheels!” he shouted.

We do have outdoor toys. We have a sandbox and a swing and a little slide. We have a wagon and a tricycle and two dozen different-size balls. But these days Abel is more fascinated with Dada’s “toys.”

So I said to Abel, “I know where Dada has ANOTHER tractor. Do you want to see it?”

“Anudder one? ANUDDER one!” He was excited.

I said, “But first we have to take a walk in the woods.”

“Walk in da WOODS!”

Abel has been walking for almost a year. Why hadn’t I thought of this before?”

So we followed a path through the woods, to the clearing where my husband stores yet another tractor. After “riding” it and touching the wheels, Abel was ready to move on.

“Do you want to see the baby river?” I asked. Using the word “baby” to describe something is guaranteed to get Abel’s attention.

“Baby river! Baby RIVER!”

Abel has finally learned the difference between a river, pond, and ocean. At least most of the time.

We took the typical toddler route along the path, stopping to investigate deer scat, surveyor’s flags, and big sticks, which Abel would hand to me to carry.

A tiny brook skirts the rear border of our property. It’s maybe two inches deep, and sometimes you have to look carefully to see if it’s flowing. The mild days had caused a lot of snow to melt, so the brook was flowing fairly well. Abel actually shuddered with excitement. “Baby RIVER!”

At first he seemed afraid to get close to it. I gave him a long stick so he could make ripples in the water. He inched closer and closer, until he ended up sitting down at the water’s edge, splashing with both his feet and the stick, and getting quite wet. It was hard to tear him away.

After about ten minutes of playing in the brook, Abel and I headed back to the house for naptime, gathering sticks the whole way.

A toddler will spend a long time being fascinated with the simplest things. So on a day when it seems like there’s nothing to do, a simple tour of the backyard can provide all sorts of fun. We both got some fresh air and exercise, Abel saw something new, and I had a chance to slow down and enjoy the quiet of the forest.

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
February 2008

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org.

The Brant Rock Dike Feud

Driving along Route 139 in Marshfield’s Green Harbor, you might not notice that the road passes over a tide gate, also known as the Brant Rock Dike. The harbor itself lies to the east of the gate, while to the west, the tidal Green Harbor River and its marshes stretch out toward the horizon. Although beautiful, it seems like an ordinary kind of place. You’d never know from looking that the Brant Rock Dike was the site of quite a bit of controversy back in the nineteenth century.

The Green Harbor River rises from springs and ponds near the Garretson Cranberry Bogs on the Marshfield-Duxbury line. It passes under Webster Street, and flows through the Green Harbor Golf Course and Mass Audubon’s Daniel Webster Wildlife Sanctuary. Continuing through a basin of wide, grassy meadows, it enters a tide gate at Turkey Point and empties into the sea via Green Harbor itself, on the Brant Rock/Green Harbor line.

Originally the river’s path to the sea was much less direct. Passing what is now the harbor (which was then just another bend in the river), it continued on a circuitous route through narrow marsh creeks, and eventually into Duxbury Bay.

Ever since the Pilgrims settled in Marshfield, there have been efforts to improve the river’s navigability. In 1633, a canal was dug to better connect the river to the bay. In 1636, this canal was widened and deepened per order of the court. In 1806, a group of Marshfield landowners successfully petitioned the court for permission to dig a more direct canal from Green Harbor to Duxbury Bay. Known today as the Cut River, this canal flowed through the marshes and meadows behind Green Harbor Beach, and out to sea near present-day Canal Street on the Duxbury line. But soon after the canal was complete a November storm closed off its mouth completely.

An even more direct outlet was cut in 1810 – and remains to this day. While prior attempts to improve the river’s navigability had been permitted -- or even decreed -- by the court, this was a case of townspeople taking matters into their own hands. According to Joseph C. Hagar’s book, Marshfield, 70’40” W, 42’5” N: The Autobiography of a Pilgrim Town, “This labor was done under cover of night and about forty men were engaged in the undertaking.” (This was not an uncommon practice – attempts to improve the outlet for the North River were also made in this fashion.)

By eliminating the narrow last leg of the river, the 1810 cut dramatically increased the incoming tidal flow to the Green Harbor River. This was a boon to local fishermen, as it improved the harbor’s navigability. However the owners of farms bordering the river saw things differently. The increase in both the volume and the frequency of saltwater flooding to their lands was a big problem, as crops don’t like salt water.

So in 1871, a group of farmers petitioned the court to construct a dike, or tide gate, that would block the flow of saltwater upstream, and create more arable land. The dike was constructed in 1872, with the condition that “Should shoaling take place above the level of mean low water in the channel in consequence of dike construction, it was to be removed by the Marsh proprietors.” Shoaling did occur, and thus began the “Brant Rock Dike Feud.”

By 1876, shoaling in Green Harbor was significant enough that the Harbor and Land Commissioners demanded its removal. The fishermen claimed that “the value of the harbor was totally destroyed,” as there wasn’t enough water for their boats to enter the harbor at times other than high tide.

The farmers did not respond to this request. They said the harbor was made illegally, while they followed proper channels to get their dike. They argued that boats had trouble entering the harbor at lower tides even before the dike was built. They claimed that shoaling would have happened anyway, without the construction of the dike, and that if they removed the shoals, the problem would return soon enough.

The situation remained in stalemate until one angry anti-diker, Henry Tolman, contrived to force the issue by blowing up the dike. Word of his plan got out, and a Boston detective firm was hired to keep an eye on him. Marshfield selectmen warned that “No man can catch him but a woman can,” so a female investigator was assigned to the case. After becoming acquainted, Tolman invited her to accompany him to the dike in the middle of the night. He brought along a wheelbarrow of dynamite, fuses and “other equipment necessary to achieve the destruction in view.”

Tolman was arrested. Unfortunately, the police acted too soon. Tolman was stopped while still on the road above the tide gate, not down in the sluiceway where the detonation was to occur. In court he claimed that he was only transporting the dynamite Brant Rock, and he was doing so in the middle of the night so he wouldn’t endanger anyone. He was allowed to go free, but “under bond for the rest of his life.”

The dike feud continued for decades. In 1898, the Massachusetts legislature passed a bill that called for the removal of the dike. But a few days later, Governor Wolcott vetoed the bill, because it included a clause guaranteeing the farmers be paid damages for what would once again be salt-ruined land. So the dike remained.

Really, no one won the Dike Feud. Unfortunately, Hatfield/McCoy-type spats continued in town meetings and other venues for many years. Although the farmers got to keep their dike, the promise of arable lands upstream never did come true, as their crops did not grow the way they had hoped. Meanwhile, the fishermen continued to deal with shoaling in the harbor – a problem that continues to this day. But Green Harbor’s cod and lobster fishing industry has prospered for many years nonetheless.

It is important to know that shoaling has always been an issue on the Green Harbor River, even before the dike was built. According to Jim O’Connell, a Coastal Processes Specialist at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, “the channel would be shoaled with or without the dike.” O’Connell continues, “The harbor tidal prism (volume of water between high and low tide) is too small to flush the channel to a point to keep the channel open; wave and wind dynamics move sand into the channel and current velocities are too low to move the sand back out.”

Does the dike contribute to the need for periodic dredging in Green Harbor? It is certainly a factor, but so many other issues must be considered as well. Professor of Geography Reed Stewart cites a few: sea level rise, the building of seawalls, and the changes in the amount of sand washed south along the beach since the realignment of the North River mouth in 1898.

“Even after extensive study, the Corps of Engineers cannot figure out how to keep the entrance channel from shoaling,” says O’Connell. “Natural coastal processes are at work here that we humans cannot overcome!”

And that’s really what it comes down to. No matter what we do to change the course of a river – dig canals, reroute channels, build jetties, perhaps even blow up tide gates – Mother Nature will always have the upper hand.

Source:
Hagar, Joseph C. Marshfield, 70’40” W, 42’5” N: The Autobiography of a Pilgrim Town. Marshfield Tercentenary Committee (Marshfield, MA, 1940).

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
January 2008

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org.

Visiting Norwell’s Fogg Forest

Last January, I made the resolution that I would visit at least one new conservation parcel in 2007. I finally succeeded, in November, by going for a walk with my sister and my son at the 40-acre Fogg Forest in Norwell.

Fogg Forest is one of those places I have driven past for years, always intending to investigate, but never actually stopping to do so. The main entrance is located right on Main Street/Route 123. For years it was marked with a large wooden sign that read ‘Conservation Area,” although that sign is now gone.

From the street, the property just looks like a big grassy field. The grass is mowed regularly, so it doesn’t really appear to be the typical conservation place. But if you walk away from the road, toward the rear of the field, you will see another sign and the trailhead.

There you will find the main trail, which forms a half-mile loop as it passes through a mixed pine and hardwood forest, dotted here and there with large rhododendron shrubs and crumbling stone walls. It’s relatively easy walking – the trail is wide enough for a jog stroller, but not so wide that two adults can walk side by side.

From the main trail, you can explore several narrower, one-way trails that generally lead to private properties. One of these (take your second right once you’re on the main trail) leads to a bridge that crosses Black Pond Brook and eventually opens to the Central Street entrance to the property. According to the Town of Norwell’s website, it’s another half mile to Central Street.

If you prefer long walks, Fogg Forest probably isn’t the best choice for you. But if you don’t mind a shorter hike, or plan to spend most of your time birding or paying attention to the finer details of the woods, Fogg Forest is a quiet, relatively uncrowded place to stretch your legs. I’m sure it’s beautiful after a snowfall, too.

To Get There: From Norwell Center, proceed 1/4 mile west on Route 123 to the property. Look for a large grassy field. You can park along the roadside; there is room for about 4 cars. There is also access, along with benches and a picnic area, from Central Street, but no parking.

For a trail map, visit http://www.geocities.com/norwelltrails/fogg.html

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
December 2007

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org.

The Land Doesn’t Change

A mill building in downtown Adams, MA.

My maternal grandmother passed away in November, after a long illness. “Babci” (the Polish word for grandmother) had been living in a local nursing home these past few years, but on the occasion of her death, my family and I traveled to the Berkshires, to the small town of Adams, to attend her wake, funeral and burial.

Babci grew up in Adams, as did my other grandparents, my parents, and the rest of my extended family. As a child, I spent a lot of time there – climbing Mt. Greylock, swimming in nearby lakes, and riding my bike on old country roads. But after my paternal grandparents passed away in the 1980s, I stopped visiting Adams to any significant extent. Certainly, my family drove out there a few times each year to see great aunts and uncles -- and to bring Babci to Marshfield for visits -- but we rarely stayed more than a single night.

Many people have heard of North Adams, the city directly to the north that’s home to the Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts (formerly North Adams State) and Mass Moca, the contemporary art museum. Founded in 1778, Adams was once a thriving town in its own right – first as a farming community, later as a mill town, thanks to the brisk flow of the Hoosic River.

Beginning in 1814 with the opening of the Adams South Village Cotton Manufacture Company, Adams’ population flourished, jumping from 2,000 to 4,000 between 1820 and 1835. It continued to grow well into the 1900s, as woolen, lumber and plastic mills and the promise of good wages drew people there. A state of the art cotton mill, Berkshire Cotton Manufacturing Company, later Berkshire Hathaway, was founded in Adams in 1889; over the years they added three more mills and became Adams’ lifeblood. It was a boomtown. The cotton mills even managed to prosper through the Depression, and thrived during World War II.

But after that things changed. The new post-war economy brought a decline in wages. The mills moved south, where they could find cheaper labor and weaker unions. In 1958, Berkshire Cotton closed down its Adams operations. The boom went bust. Textile-related industry remained for many years, but job opportunities diminished greatly. Now the only remaining mill is Specialty Minerals, which mines and processes limestone.

And so the town of Adams struggles to reinvent itself. Many nearby communities have turned to tourism. The more posh Berkshire towns of Lenox and Stockbridge have relied on this for decades. North Adams and Pittsfield are seeing some success as they follow suit. But even with such draws as Mt. Greylock, the highest peak in Massachusetts; the Ashuwillticook Rail Trail, a rich cultural history, and a shiny new visitor center, Adams has a long way to go. Jobs are hard to find. Population continues to drop.

My grandmother was buried in the Polish cemetery, up high in the hills of the Hoosac Range. Driving back into the heart of town after the services, we were treated to a panoramic view of Adams. Looking down from the mountain, we could see the valley below, the river flowing through town, the church steeples, dairy farms with green pastures, beautiful stands of trees in their red-gold autumn finery, Mt. Greylock towering above. This is the way Adams looked before the mills came to town. This is how it is today.

The land doesn’t change. Humans and their industries come and go. Mining and deforestation may alter the way a place looks, but the land itself remains the same. The casual visitor may only see closed down restaurants and storefronts, but like any town, Adams means “home” to generations of people – there is much more to it than what one sees on the surface.

Is there a way for Adams to get back on its feet? Will the prosperity of other towns filter into Adams? There is talk of a “recreation area” up on the mountain. Is the landscape enough to draw people in?

The South Shore is experiencing its own “boom” these days, with the revival of the commuter rails and an influx of population. The landscape continues to change as more and more homes, “big box” stores and “lifestyle” shopping centers are constructed. Lucky for us, we have set aside thousands of acres of land as open space. Thanks to Conservation Commissions, land preservation groups such as The Wildlands Trust and The Trustees of Reservations, Community Preservation Act funds, and foresight of voters, we have ensured that – no matter what the future holds -- the land itself will remain.

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
November 2007

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org.

Vacationing at Home

Staycation means extra time exploring in the jog stroller!

My husband and I used to travel twice a year, usually in the fall and winter. Even last year, after our son was born, we still managed to go away for a week in September. Although a 6-day stay at a friend’s Vermont condo with our 4-month old was far less glamorous than the 2-week vacations in Mexico and road trips in the American West that we’d enjoyed in prior years.

This fall we chose to stay home. Now that our son is more than a year old, travel for pleasure has taken on new meaning. It’s hard to “get away from it all” when you’ve got a trunk full of baby gear and a little one in the back seat who doesn’t appreciate scenic vistas or long drives.

Not going away was a conscious choice. We contemplated planning a toddler-friendly trip – perhaps renting a house where we could sightsee by day, but also have a quiet place to retreat to during naptime. A place where we could cook our own meals and have room to spread out our son’s toys. It was certainly possible -- still, it didn’t seem worth the effort. No destination was compelling enough to warrant the energy required to make it happen.

Staying home had its own appeal. Two weeks off from the 9-5 job (for my husband) so he could spend more time with our son. Extra opportunity for me (the primary caregiver) to work. More time for both of us to catch up with projects around the house that never seemed to get done. And best of all -- more time with each other. It wasn’t our typical vacation, but it sounded nice – and cheap.

And good for the planet. Typically our vacations involve airplane travel, and often a rental car on which we put at least a thousand miles. The carbon emissions that this “trip” would generate would be significantly less. Sure we might venture into Boston one day to visit the Children’s Museum – but that was nothing compared with – for example -- driving from San Francisco to Seattle and back.

As it was, we spent a lot of time visiting with friends, going for walks, checking out local playgrounds, and just hanging out in our own yard. Since we weren’t working as much, our morning and nighttime routines were more relaxed. We could stay up late or sleep in (as much as our son permitted), and let our days develop at their own pace. We didn’t feel rushed. It was a wonderful reprieve. One of my favorite memories from that time was sitting on the Sea Street Bridge in Humarock with my son in his stroller, sharing a snack of Goldfish crackers, and watching the boats and seagulls pass by as he exclaimed “Boat!” “Bird!” “Cracker!”

The challenge of vacationing at home is that you can take on too many projects and end up resting less than you would on a normal week. That was certainly an issue for us – but still we both managed to achieve a good balance of down time and “getting stuff done.” As for our son, he seemed to enjoy “helping” Daddy fix the tractor and organize the basement.

I have to admit, do miss the travel. There are plenty of places in the world I’d like to see, and plenty of places I can’t wait to show to my son. I can’t imagine that it will be easy to watch my parents and sister leave for Mexico this winter without us. But on the other hand, travel just doesn’t seem important right now. I know we’ll get back to it someday.

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
October 2007

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org.

A Baby’s View of Nature

On Sunday afternoons Abel (my 16 month-old son) and I often spend time with my parents. In the summer we hung out around my folks’ pool, but now that fall is here, we like to go for walks. Recently we explored the Norris Reservation in Norwell.

When we’re in the woods, I usually transport Abel in a jog stroller. However on this particular Sunday, the jogger had a flat tire, so we opted for a backpack specially designed to carry children. I had purchased it at a yard sale months ago, but this was my first time using it.

A pack loaded with a 20+ pound child isn’t easy to lift onto one’s back. My dad had to help me get Abel up there. And we weren’t sure for how long Abel would tolerate this new outlook. But it turns out that he loved it! As opposed to moving along at stroller-level, it must have been a great novelty to have his head up among those of the adults.

So we set off into the woods. You enter the Norris Reservation by heading down a wide trail that leads to an old mill pond. This is a favorite fishing spot for young families, and sure enough, a father and his two boys had just pulled a small fish out of the water. As we approached, they were examining its scales before throwing it back “to his mother.”

As soon as Abel saw the pond, he shouted “Pool!”

“Pond,” we said. “That’s a pond, Abel. Lots of water – just like a pool.”

Abel has a vocabulary of about sixty words, and can sometimes get his point across quite clearly. “Pool” is his word for most things watery – swimming pools, puddles, the ocean, the rivers.

We started down the path that leads to the old boat house, a favorite spot for many who walk at the Norris. “We’re going to see the river, Abel,” my father said.

“River!” replied Abel.

These days, Abel mimics a lot of the words he hears, but doesn’t necessarily know their meaning. We talked some more about what we might see along the trail. Every once in a while Abel would say “river,” excitedly.

Soon we were at the boat house. We stood at the railing, and looked up- and downstream.

“Pool!” Abel cried, his eyes shining with delight.

“This is the North River,” my mom explained.

“Boat!” said Abel, seeing the vessels moored not far away.

“Yes, there are boats on the river,” I said.

“Pool!” shouted Abel. “Pool, pool!”

My father gathered a handful of stones. Abel has recently figured out how to throw things. He often grunts with the exertion as he throws, but then giggles as the object meets it target. We began handing him the stones, and one by one, he tossed them into the water.

“Rock!” he exclaimed, as each one left his hand. “Pool!” This distracted us all for several minutes.

After awhile, we headed back to the trail and continued our walk. The woods grew denser around us, but every so often we could still see the river through the trees. “See the river?’ we asked Abel.

“River!” said Abel. “River, river!”

He said river! Had he learned a new word?

After climbing a hill, we paused to look out from another vantage point. The river was below us now. “See the river?’ we asked.

“Pool!” said Abel.

We continued through the woods. Abel did a fair share of happy-sounding nonsense babbling, and every so often, he would say “river.” I began to wonder if it actually was the forest he was associating with that word. We have yet to succeed in teaching him “forest,” “woods,” or “trees.”

At another stop to look out over the water, we asked, “See the river, Abel?”

“River!” he replied.

After an hour or so, we had completed our walk. As we passed the mill pond, Abel was beginning to nod off in his back pack. But when he saw the water, he managed to summon enough energy to comment upon it. “Pool . . .” he sighed.

Has he learned the word “river?” We’re not sure. But we’ll be returning soon to the Norris Reservation, and to many other of our area’s nature preserves, to find out.

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
September 2007

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org.

Nature Brings a Sense of Peace

Abel at Garfield Park in Norwell.

It was a cool, quiet, Sunday morning in August. Abel, my 15-month-old son, and I had been at Gaffield Park playground in Norwell for about a half hour. It was our first visit there, and we’d already checked out the swings, the toddler-size jungle gym, and some of the woods that surround the park.

Our next destination was the “big” slide. Abel loves to go down the toddler slide, but he also enjoys riding the “big” slide in my lap. He was excited to see this “big” slide for the first time. I let him scramble up the many tiers of the jungle gym, following closely behind. Once we reached the top, I sat down and he crawled into my lap.

You may remember reading last year in this column how shocked I was by the changes to my life that motherhood brought. Becoming a mother really threw me for a loop. I wrestled with post-partum depression for my son’s first few months – and struggled quite a bit longer with depression-related anxiety issues.

Through much of Abel’s first year, I could function well enough, but I really didn’t feel like “myself.” My doctor likened it to being between the rungs of the monkey bars. I had let go of one, pre-parent, version of myself, but had not yet grasped hold of the new “mother” version.

Identity-wise, I was in sort of a free-fall. It was scary when I had time to think about it -- but as any mother of a young child will tell you, when you’re raising a little one, there really isn’t much time for thinking. Not the thinking you used to do before you were a parent, anyway. Not the big picture thoughts that come up when you take long walks in the woods, or spend an afternoon kayaking on the river.

Back to the slide. We were up high -- ten to fifteen feet off the ground. Abel was secure in my lap, with my arms around him. I had scooted to the lip of the slide, and was just about to push off, when I paused, just for a few seconds.

I could hear the wind in the trees. I could smell the peat and decaying leaves of the woods around us. I could sense the presence of the North River, which isn’t far, as the crow flies, from Gaffield Park. I could hear birds and insects and distant traffic. None of this was remarkable except the simple fact that for the first time in at least 15 months, I was noticing it.

Could it really have been that long since I’d stopped to be aware of my surroundings? Since my mind was quiet and content enough to experience such simple peace? Apparently so.

Spending time outdoors has always been an important part of my life. I love to go out on the water, to visit nature preserves, to find someplace beautiful and just sit and listen – and watch. Such activities have always made me feel good, and more connected with myself.

In his first 15 months of life, my son has already visited a number of conservation areas here on the South Shore. He’s been to the beach; he’s sat beside the rivers. His dad and I – and the rest of his family -- look forward to exposing him to much, much more of this. We hope he’ll experience the same sense of peace and contentment there that we often do.

Sitting at the top of the slide with Abel nestled happily in my lap, I felt so grateful. To have survived the first year of motherhood; to have reared (so far), a smart, healthy, sensitive child; to have so much to look forward to in the years to come – even if some of it might be scary.

“Are you ready?” I asked Abel, giving him an extra squeeze.

He giggled.

“Here we go!” I said, pushing off.

And down the slide we went, both smiling.

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
August 2007

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org.

Our Resident Rabbit

A cottontail rabbit.

A cottontail rabbit has taken up residence under our screen porch. Every evening we see it nibbling the weeds that grow in the gardens around our house. It doesn’t seem to mind us watching – even when my one-year-old shrieks with delight.

We’ve seen an increase in rabbits in our yard this year – in fact, an increase in wildlife in general. A family of turkeys trots across the lawn every day around dusk, the mother along with ten babies. A hawk perches on the roof of our barn or in the trees above our house, and we have regular evening visits from a family of deer. Our back yard connects to a wide corridor of undeveloped land, close to the highway, so I imagine these creatures are roaming free in their natural habitat – what’s left of it. But nothing comes as close to the house – and its inhabitants – than the rabbit.

Massachusetts is home to two species of cottontail rabbits, the New England (Sylvilagus transitionalis) and the Eastern (Sylvilagus floridanus) . The two species look very much the same to the untrained eye, although the former is generally a little bit smaller in size. But they prefer different habitat. According to the Massachusetts Department of Fish and Wildlife, the New England Cottontail likes denser areas – mountains, shrub-dominated wetlands, brush-filled woods, as well as regenerating clearcuts, and densely-forested power line corridors and highway medians. The Eastern Cottontail, on the other hand, prefers more open areas -- pastures, fields, farms, stone walls, marshes, and suburban backyards. Their home range can be anywhere from half an acre to more than 40, depending on the terrain. Since our resident rabbit is hanging out so close to the house, I’m guessing it’s the Eastern variety, even if the woods out back are brushy and fairly dense.

Cottontail rabbits are active at dawn and dusk. They tend to be solitary, and very territorial. They are herbivores, eating tender green vegetation – including grasses, clover, and garden veggies --when it is available, and bark, twigs and buds in the colder months.

The Eastern Cottontail rabbit has long ears and, true to its name, a short, fluffy tail. It is reddish brown or brownish gray in color, with lighter color on its belly and the underside of its tail. It has big eyes, weighs 2-4 lbs., and can range from 12 to 20 inches in length.

Eastern Cottontails breed in the spring and summer. During mating season, the male and female perform a sort of dance, wherein the male chases the female until she stops to box at him with her front paws. Then, they each take a turn jumping straight up into the air. Now that’s something I’d like to see!

Eastern Cottontails nest in shallow depressions in the ground which they line with grasses, other plants, and fur plucked from the female’s belly. After about a month, the female produces a litter of 1-9 young, who leave the nest at 3-5 weeks of age. The female may mate again very soon, and she can have up to four litters per year.

Cottontail rabbits can move quickly, leaping distances from 10-15 feet at a time, and running up to 15 miles per hour. They stand on their hind feet to watch for predators, which include fox, bobcat, hawks, owls, snakes, and even pet dogs and cats. When chased, they sometimes dart from side to side to break the scent trail. Just as much of a threat is the hunter -- the Eastern Cottontail is the most widely hunted game animal in the eastern United States.

Our resident Eastern Cottontail doesn’t have to worry about being hunted – unless it strays beyond the bounds of our neighborhood. I don’t even mind that it has eaten a hole in our compost bin, where it seems to take much of its nourishment. We will enjoy watching it come out for its evening meal, and hope the hawk that perches on the barn can continue to look the other way.

Sources:
http://www.mass.gov/dfwele/dfw/dfwcotontail.htm#History
http://wildwnc.org/af/easterncottontailrabbit.html
http://www.nhptv.org/natureworks/easterncottontail.htm

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
July 2007

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168 or visit www.nsrwa.org.

No More Plastic Bags?

San Francisco has been getting publicity lately for becoming the first major American city to ban non-biodegradable plastic bags – if only in large grocery stores and pharmacies. The Boston City Council is considering taking similar measures, as are leaders in other municipalities around the country. I find this intriguing . . . and also a bit worrisome.

As I’ve stated a few times in this column over the years, I try to use my own shopping bags whenever it’s convenient. I have a set of strong, amazingly expandable, cotton mesh Eco Bags that are perfect for hauling groceries and other large loads. Notice that I used the word “convenient” above, and not “possible.” There are still plenty of times when I don’t have a bag with me, and have to choose “paper or plastic,” and plenty more times when a using mesh bag would not make sense.

When I have to choose, it used to be that I would almost always go for the paper bags, since my town’s recycling handler prefers us to bag our paper waste before we place it in the bin. But occasionally, and increasing since my son was born last May, I’ve gone for the plastic ones. They’re a great way to diffuse the stench of a well-used diaper, or to contain the juices and scraps from a package of meat. These are important measures to take when you don’t want to attract raccoons to your garbage can -- or when your trash pickup is still a week away.

Still, I could be more vigilant about limiting my use of disposable bags -- especially when I consider the consequences. Did you know that the typical plastic shopping bag requires up to 1,000 years to decompose? Further they are made of polyethylene, a petroleum-based product; with gas prices hovering around $3.00 per gallon, we could all do our part to reduce our dependence on foreign oil. Each bag we keep out of the landfill – either by reusing an old one, or replacing it with something more earth-friendly – is a tiny contribution to the health of our planet.

These days, most grocery stores offer their own reusable tote bags. For a few dollars, you can purchase a nice canvas sack in which to carry home your groceries. If you bought one each month, you’d soon have enough bags to contain your entire grocery order. It’s a great idea – as long as you remember to bring the bags with you when you go to the store. (Hint: between shopping trips, keep them in your car.)

However, you don’t need a “special” bag for your groceries – any sufficiently strong tote bag will do. Check out the mesh bags at ecobags.com, or reuse the paper and plastic bags from your last shopping trip. Whole Foods Market will give you five cents off for each shopping bag you provide (and use) yourself.

I’m not naïve. I know that there are plenty of people who can’t be bothered to bring their own bags along every time they go shopping. There are worse sins, to be sure. But there are also alternatives. How about paying a small fee for the use of a plastic bag? Ikea, for example, essentially taxes you five cents if you accept a plastic bag from them. Perhaps stores could drop their prices ever-so-slightly if they didn’t have to shell out big bucks for free bags. Another alternative would be to create a strong, cheap DEGRADABLE plastic grocery bag. I for one would be psyched about that!

One excellent option is to skip the bag altogether. I’ve worked in a few different music stores over the years. It never made sense to me why anyone would need a bag to carry one small cassette or compact disc. So when I rang up a small order I would always ask my customers whether or not they wanted a bag. Some said no. Some said yes. Others paused to think it over, and generally declined the bag after all. Consider that next time you’re in a store for just one thing.

Even if we don’t stop using plastic bags altogether, we can still reduce our reliance on them. It takes some time to break a habit – but the rewards make it worthwhile.

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
June 2007

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168.

Robin Rescue

American robin.

This spring, a family of robins built a nest at my parents’ house in Marshfield. There is nothing unusual about robins nesting here on the South Shore, however, this particular robin family chose a somewhat unique location to roost: on top of an outdoor floodlight, attached to the house, about 10 feet off the ground.

There was no way to see into the nest – neither from the ground, nor from the second story windows. But still you could get an idea of what was going on there – the mama bird keeping her eggs warm until they hatched, and later bringing worms and insects to the babies to eat.

We were all saddened one day in May to see that one of the small blue eggs had fallen from the nest. But that hardly compared to the anguish we felt two weeks later when we discovered that the nest had fallen from its precarious perch, and broken apart. Two baby birds were lying in the dirt below, alive but clearly stunned.

We wanted to help, but we didn’t know how. We had heard that, once handled by humans, baby birds would be rejected by their parents. A call to Massachusetts Audubon’s South Shore Sanctuaries saved the day.

Audubon’s Education Director Ellyn Einhorn was happy to advise us. She said that the “parental rejection due to human scent” thing was a myth, and that it was okay to handle the birds and the nest. But we had to act fast, before the parent birds viewed the situation as a lost cause.

Einhorn advised us to scoop up the remains of the nest and to fit them into a container to help them retain their original shape. We found one of those plastic mesh trays used at garden centers to transport potted plants – and fitted the nest parts together in one of its corners. We added more pine needles and leaves to fill in the gaps.

She then told us to place the birds securely in the nest. We’d never handled birds before, and felt a bit anxious about this – especially since the mama robin was perched on a tree limb nearby, seemingly warning us to stay away from her babies . . . or else. (Einhorn said that the parents probably wouldn’t attack us.) One of the birds was quite sedate, lying in the nest, opening and closing its mouth as if asking for food. The other was all a-flutter. It didn’t seem able to get comfortable, and kept flipping over onto its back. Its head seemed to be turned the wrong way. But – this was probably the most heartbreaking thing -- it was very much alive, and in need of help. They were both so warm to the touch, their first feathers just beginning to sprout, their tiny legs and feet tucked beneath them.

Our next task was to put the nest and its contents back as close as possible to where it had been. Even if we’d had a tall enough ladder, there was no easy way to secure the nest on top of the light fixture. So instead, we placed it about eight feet high in the same pine tree where the mama bird had been perched earlier—and secured it to the branches with wire.

Then all we could do was wait. It was up to the parents now – would they go back to the nest and bring their babies food? Or would they abandon them? We tried to stay out of the front yard to give them some peace. Later in the day we were happy to observe the parents returning to tend to their young.

The next day, we peeked into the nest and were saddened to see that the injured bird had died. But the other one seemed okay. Now we’ll keep an eye on the situation, and see whether the robins build a new nest someplace else, or just stay in the makeshift home we created for them. Maybe we’ll see that remaining baby bird take flight!

A word of advice: not all bird species have the same needs. If you find yourself in a similar rescue situation, you might contact Mass Audubon for guidance. You can reach the South Shore Sanctuaries office at 781-837-9400.

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
May 2007

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168.

Wild Turkeys in Our Midst

A common sighting: wild turkeys in the road.

On a recent Sunday morning, a neighbor saw a turkey pecking at my dad’s home-office door in Marshfield. Across town, I spied a small flock of turkeys strutting across my back yard. We are used to squirrels and chipmunks frolicking in the yard, but turkeys? Even in big cities, wild turkey sightings are becoming more and more the norm.

Wild turkeys are not new to New England, but it has been a long time since it was common to see one anywhere other than on the dinner table. In Colonial times, turkeys were quite prevalent, but like many other species, they were hunted or driven away as human settlement expanded. By the early 1800s, a wild turkey was a rare sight -- largely because the hardwood forests they called home had been cut down.

There were attempts to reintroduce turkeys to Massachusetts in the early to mid- twentieth century, but these all proved unsuccessful. However in the early 1970s a flock of 37 wild turkeys were set free in Berkshire County, and by 1978, the turkey population had grown to 1,000. Some of these birds were relocated elsewhere in the state, and now the estimated turkey population is more than 15,000.

When you see a wild turkey, there’s no mistaking it for another bird. A male turkey, or tom, is large – 16-24 lbs. – and when it struts, its head turns bright red. Across short distances, it can run up to 20 miles per hour. Its feathers are black or brown, with white bars on the wings, and a hair-like “beard” extends from its breast. During mating season, mid-March to early May, it puffs out its feathers, fans its tail, and gobbles. As you may already have discovered, it’s a little scary and a little weird to encounter one at close range.

The hens are smaller, only 9-12 lbs. After mating, a turkey hen lays 12-15 eggs in a shallow leaf-lined nest on the ground. These hatch after about a month, so in early June we begin to see baby turkeys, or poults, . . . as long as the foxes don’t get them. Soon after hatching, the poults instinctively follow their mother, who provides protection and food. They learn quickly how to climb into trees at night, where it is safer to roost.

Wild turkeys live in flocks, and each flock has its own system of social ranking. This “pecking order” determines which turkeys are dominant over the others. This is not a pun – the dominant bird actually has the privilege to peck on a bird of lesser rank. This behavior can be a nuisance – or downright frightening – if a turkey deems a human or other animal as subordinate. Especially during breeding season, a turkey is prone to peck at or attack any potential threat. In addition to other animals, turkeys sometimes peck at shiny objects like cars -- or even reflections.

But you don’t have to worry about a wild turkey actually eating you. They consume a primarily vegetarian diet, including acorns, nuts, grapes, skunk cabbage, plus some berries and tubers. They will also scratch at the ground in search of food. Poults also eat insects.

Turkeys are fascinating to observe, especially from a distance, or through a window where’s there’s no threat of attack. The Massachusetts Department of Fish and Wildlife offers these tips for preventing conflicts with turkeys.

• Don’t Feed Turkeys. Feeding, whether direct or indirect, can cause turkeys to act tame and may lead to bold or aggressive behavior, especially in the breeding season.

• Keep Bird Feeder Areas Clean. Use feeders designed to keep seed off the ground, as the seed attracts turkeys and other wild animals. Clean up spilled seed from other types of feeders daily. Remove feeders in the spring, as there is plenty of natural food available for all birds.

• Don’t Let Turkeys Intimidate You. Don't hesitate to scare or threaten a bold, aggressive turkey with loud noises, swatting with a broom or water sprayed from a hose. A dog on a leash is also an effective deterrent.

• Cover Windows or Other Reflective Objects. If a turkey is pecking at a shiny object such as a vehicle or window, cover or otherwise disguise the object. Harass the bird by chasing it, squirting with a hose or other means of aggression.

• Protect Your Gardens and Crops. You can harass turkeys searching for food in your gardens. Dogs tethered on a run can also be effective in scaring turkeys away from gardens. Netting is another option to employ. In agricultural situations, some scare devices are effective.

• Educate Your Neighbors. Your efforts will be futile if neighbors are providing food for turkeys or neglecting to act boldly towards the birds. It requires the efforts of the entire neighborhood to help keep wild turkeys wild.

Sources:
www.mass.gov/dfwele/dfw/dfwturk.htm
www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A11162-2004Nov24.html
www.post-gazette.com/pg/05327/611403.stm
www.birding.about.com/od/birdsturkeys/a/wildturkeys.htm

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
April 2007

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168.

It’s Not Easy Being Green

Last month I wrote about “Ten Simple Things You Can Do To Stop Global Warming,” and in the past I’ve referenced other ways to reduce one’s impact on the planet. It all sounds good on paper, but I will be the first to acknowledge that putting environmental consciousness into action can be a challenge. To quote a song sung by Kermit the Frog, “It’s not easy being green.”

In recent print advertisements, Kermit the Frog has been the spokesman for the Toyota Prius, the most popular hybrid vehicle in the United States. So even those of us who don’t watch Sesame Street regularly may be reminded of the potential pitfalls and perils of “being green.” I’ve been listening to Kermit’s song a lot, however -- driving around in the car with my son Abel, who will turn one next month. “It’s not easy being green,’ Kermit sings. It’s true, and for me, parenthood has made that truth all the more evident.

Let’s start with the diapers. Before Abel was born, I considered using cloth diapers, but only until I’d conferred with fellow moms and got a reality check. Gone are the days of the local diaper service. There are plenty of new-styled cloth diapers on the market that you can wash at home, but when you’re going through ten diapers a day, you have to wonder if the environmental impact of all that laundry is any less than that of using disposables. So we’re using the Pampers, and contributing generously to the landfill each week. On top of that, some diapers are accompanied by a handful of baby wipes and wrapped in a plastic grocery bag to seal out odor. At least the grocery bags are recycled! I don’t even want to think about how many years it will take for those diapers to decompose…

Despite the disposable diapers, we’re doing quite a bit more laundry these days too. This is a natural consequence of when a family grows by 50%, especially when the baby is learning how to feed himself and crawl. So are we reducing the amount of hot water we use? Nope. Definitely using more of that, and more of the dryer too. I put most of the grown-up clothes on the drying rack, but not the little ones -- I just don’t have time!

What about reducing the amount of packaging we throw in the trash? Again, I had good intentions. Sure, baby food jars are recyclable, but it would be more ecologically sound – and cheaper – to make one’s own baby food. Most of my friends envisioned me as the queen of homemade purees, and I thought they were right, but here I am, stocking up on crates of baby food at the grocery store each week. Sure, Abel gets the occasional homemade meal, but I have to admit, I’d rather play with him and his blocks than stand at the stove steaming carrots.

My husband and I have always been good about turning off the lights when we exit a room. But that has changed too. A typical hour for Abel involves roaming through all of the rooms on the first floor of our house, finding new things to explore. Even when we put up the gates and confine him to a smaller space, we find that we’re going back and forth from the kitchen to the living room to the dining room to meet his needs. The lights stay on until Abel’s bedtime. At least we’ve begun to replace our regular lightbulbs with compact fluorescents, so even though we’re using more energy, we’re being somewhat conscious about it.

Which is good, because we’re going to need those savings to offset the cost of keeping our house warm enough for baby. We used to keep the house at 58 degrees all day, and turn it up to 62 when we got cold. Now the thermostat is set at sixty, but if we’re home (and we’re home a lot more than we used to be) it goes up to 64. So much for turning your thermostat down a couple degrees in winter to conserve!

It’s not all bad though. Most of these measures are temporary, and we can go back to being more environmentally conscious as our son grows older. We still recycle, compost our food waste, and use cloth grocery bags. We take Abel outdoors a lot, which we hope will foster in him a love of nature. We’re trying to improve in the areas where we’ve slipped. And we try to be aware of the impact we have upon the earth even if it’s a negative impact.

So no, it’s not easy being green. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to be. Even the smallest steps we take will count toward lessening our impact on planet Earth.

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
March 2007

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168.

How You Can Stop Global Warming

“An Inconvenient Truth” recently won the Academy award for Best Documentary Feature. If you haven’t seen the movie, it is essentially Al Gore giving a presentation on global warming.

The presentation itself isn’t anything fancy – more like a lecture by one of your more captivating college professors, along with some really cool graphics. But it does state the facts of global warming quite clearly.

There are dissenters, but the prevailing school of thought these days is that global warming – the widespread rise of temperature on our planet – is a direct result of the burning of fossil fuels such as coal, gas and oil, as well as the clearing of forests. Both of these increase the amount of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, which in turn heats things up. These are manmade problems -- not natural ones.

You might think a small rise in temperature is not such a big deal, but it does have consequences, such melting glaciers, severe storms and droughts in greater frequency, and serious changes in plant and animal habitat. According to the website www.climatecrisis.net, “The number of Category 4 and 5 hurricanes has almost doubled in the last 30 years,” and if global warming continues at its current rate, “Sea levels could rise by more than 20 feet, devastating coastal areas worldwide.” Some of the documentary’s most compelling scenes were computer-generated oceans rising to fill the streets of modern cities.

What I liked best about “An Inconvenient Truth” was the tips it offered as the end credits rolled – Ten Simple Things You Can Do To Stop Global Warming. I also liked the fact that movie’s message wasn’t all doom and gloom – instead, it reassuringly stated that we CAN solve the problem of global warming, and that small efforts could bring big results.

So here’s what you can do:

Replace regular lightbulbs with compact fluorescents. The compact fluorescents screw into the socket the same way. They cost more, but they last much longer. Also, turn off lights when you’re not using them.

Drive less. If you can walk, bike, carpool or take mass transit instead of driving, consider doing so. A friend in Albuquerque started taking the bus instead of driving to work. He’s saving money, using less fossil fuel, and also meeting new people and seeing things he wouldn’t ordinarily see on his daily commute.

Recycle. Aim to recycle half of your household waste. Most paper, plastic, cans and jars can go in the recycle bin. You can also donate things you no longer need to charity (instead of sending them to the landfill). Organizations like Big Brothers/Big Sisters and the Vietnam Veterans of America will come to your house and carry away your castoffs.

Check Your Tires. Keeping your tires inflated properly can improve your gas mileage by more than 3%.

Use less hot water. Install a low flow showerhead or take shorter showers. Only do laundry with hot water when you need to – warm and cold usually suffice. Be mindful when you wash the dishes and avoid keeping the water running when you don’t need it.

Consider how things are packaged. Choose products with less packaging to reduce the overall amount of garbage in your household. When purchasing fresh produce, ask yourself if you really need the plastic bag. Most of the time you don’t.

Adjust your thermostat. Would you still be comfortable with the inside temperature a couple degrees lower in winter or higher in the warmer months?

Plant a tree. Trees absorb carbon dioxide. They can also shade your house and reduce your need for fans and air conditioning in the summer.

Turn off electronic devices when they’re not in use. Do you keep your television or computer on when you’re not using it? Turn it off and save energy! You’ll notice a difference on your electric bill too.

Encourage people to see “An Inconvenient Truth.” Hopefully they’ll get the message and pass it on.

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
February 2007

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168.

Development on the South Shore

The Jose Carreiro Woodland in Marshfield could have easily been a housing development, if not for the longterm dedicated efforts of concerned citizens and the town's Community Preservation Committee.

Back in December, one of the last stands of trees in the commercial section of Marshfield’s Route 139 was cleared to make room for a new office building. Technically, we’re not supposed to be upset by this, as the land was zoned for business. Still, I heard lots of people bemoaning the loss of the woods, or otherwise commenting on how striking the difference is, landscape-wise, when you drive along that road. Even now, two months later, I still do a double take when I drive past the cleared land. I miss the trees.

This sort of thing is happening all over the South Shore. Take Route 53 in Hanover and Norwell. A number of properties have been cleared, razed, or renovated in the past year to make room for new commercial buildings. In many cases, an eyesore was demolished to make room for a newer, larger, and (I hope) more aesthetically pleasing structure. In other cases, it was only forest that was taken down.

Again, these are commercially zoned parts of town. They are “meant” to be developed. But it’s sad to see the wooded areas go.

Why is this happening all of a sudden? It isn’t sudden, really. It’s been happening all along. My neighbor, who is in her eighties and grew up in Marshfield, told me a story about how when she was a child, she used to sit down in the middle of Union Street to play. Now Union Street is a narrow but busy thoroughfare where cars zip along at 40+ mph and most people wouldn’t even dare to walk along the side of the road. With 40B communities, a day camp, and numerous new houses vying for building permits up and down the road, it promises only to get busier.

When I was a child, in the 1970s and ‘80s, there were acres upon acres of undeveloped land in town. Now the “new” neighborhoods that were carved out of those forests in my lifetime – places like Woodland Hills and Arrowhead – are no longer even considered new. The trend continues. I can’t even count how many new roads and age-55+ complexes are being built in our town. It’s the same all over the South Shore.

You can blame some of it on the trains – the Kingston and Bridgewater commuter lines, and the Greenbush line that is coming to Scituate. Easy access to public transportation makes communities more attractive, and so we’re building houses and businesses to accommodate the population influx. But some of it is just “progress.” As long as they have their permits in order, people who own residentially zoned land are entitled to develop it. Towns that had the foresight to set aside land for conservation will maintain that open space, but where that isn’t or wasn’t a priority, land will just continue to be cleared and built upon.

Here’s my conundrum: how much of it is good, or inevitable, and how much of it is not? I’ve been asked to sign petitions protesting certain developments. I have resisted so far because I honestly don’t know where I stand on those matters, even when presented with facts and figures. But when conservation groups set up campaigns to save parcels of land on the South Shore, I try to give generously.

I don’t have the answers. I am grateful for the Wildlands Trust, the Trustees of Reservations, Mass Audubon, and the Nature Conservancy for maintaining open space here on the South Shore, and where possible, campaigning to acquire more. I am thrilled with the towns that have adopted the Community Preservation Act and who continue to buy land for conservation. I think it’s a foregone conclusion at this point that traffic is only going to get worse around here. Can we make it less worse? We can’t stave off all development, but can we contain it? Can we find a balance somehow?

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
January 2007

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168.

Avoiding Nature Deficit Disorder

Bay Farm, on the Kingston-Duxbury line, is a favorite spot for families.

My son, Abel, who is seven months old, loves to go for walks outdoors. When we step into the woods or fields of a nature preserve, he inevitably begins to babble excitedly. Even though we have no idea what he is telling us, it is clear that he is quite pleased.

This makes me so happy! I too love the outdoors, and I’d be dismayed if my son didn’t share my enthusiasm. I know there’s a really good chance that when he’s thirteen he may prefer video games to hikes, but for now we’re good. We’ll continue to walk as long as the weather permits it.

Chris, my husband, is already talking about bringing Abel to the redwood forests of Northern California when he gets older. We’ll camp for a week or two while Chris photographs the ancient trees. And my parents are planning to bring Abel to the Grand Canyon when he is ten years old. This fall my father and a friend hiked down to the canyon floor – a tremendous physical challenge that only one percent of Grand Canyon visitors even attempt (but that’s a story for another day). Maybe someday we’ll do that too. For now, I’m content to dream of watching the sun rise over the canyon rim with Abel and the rest of my family.

According to the National Park Service, my dream – which used to be quite common – is becoming more and more rare as the years pass. Visits to national parks have been on a downward slide for the past decade, and fewer and fewer people are interested in staying overnight at park lodges and campgrounds. The Park Service is studying the trends and ramping up their efforts to attract visitors, especially young ones. But the competition from theme parks threatens only to worsen.

Richard Louv’s 2005 book “Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder” discusses how childhood is becoming an increasingly indoor affair. We are so concerned about the possibility of abductions and other crimes, not to mention insects bearing horrible diseases, that we won’t let our children play outside – at least not to the extent that we did when we were kids.

When I was growing up, my parents permitted my sister and I to roam the neighborhood, including the woods and the cranberry bogs nearby. In fact, my mother wanted us to play outside as much as possible, and encouraged us accordingly. We weren’t supposed to go anywhere alone, but as long as a friend or sibling accompanied us, we had free reign over a large area. I want to offer this same freedom of exploration to my son as he grows up. I’m not sure that’s possible.

Some National Park officials cite our overly cautious and litigious society as the source of the problem. If we didn’t have to post signs warning of flash floods, bears, ice, dangerous spiders, and so forth, perhaps people would be more apt to spend time outdoors. Too many warnings scare us away from some of the most magnificent places on earth, not to mention the more mundane but still beautiful nature areas right in our back yards. Did you opt out of a walk in the woods this summer for fear of catching Lyme disease or encephalitis? Certainly these fears are warranted, but how cautious is too cautious? Is it really better for your health to stay indoors?

It’s winter, and spending time in nature is less of a priority for most people now than it is during the other, warmer seasons. Still, most of us need to go outside every so often to get a breath of fresh air or to avoid cabin fever. Chris and I discovered that even as a tiny baby, Abel benefited from some time outdoors. We try to bring him outside every day. When he gets cranky, the change of scenery seems to improve his mood. It does the same for us.

Before long Abel will be walking – and then running. Our wooded back yard will be a great place to play, even if we have to take extra precautions to avoid ticks and mosquitoes. The South Shore’s myriad nature preserves will make excellent field trip locations. And when Abel gets older, we look forward to visiting some national parks. It’s funny – before Abel was born I couldn’t imagine camping in the redwood forests of northern California – but now it sounds fun!

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
December 2006

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168.

Marshfield’s Puddle Wharf Conservation Area

Thanks to the Marshfield Trailheads, a community organization dedicated to improving access to local open space lands, I have discovered a new nature preserve. While perusing the Trailheads’ (www.marshfieldtrailheads.org) website, which also provides information on the official Marshfield Trails and Ways Committee, I came across an item on a large conservation parcel that I’d never noticed before, named Puddle Wharf. I was eager to check it out.

According to the Trailheads, the Puddle Wharf Conservation Area is home to Marshfield busiest nature trail, probably because the high school cross-country team uses it for practice. You can see where the team runs because the trees are emblazoned with white paint to mark the way. But both days I visited, my guests and I were the only people on the trails. That’s my kind of “busy” nature preserve!

You can access the Puddle Wharf Trails from School Street. Look for parking just off the roadside (there is no designated parking area) at the bottom of the hill, near the water pumping stations (brick buildings). The trailheads are marked with small round metal plaques – look for them at eye level on the trees.

The Puddle Wharf trails extend for quite a distance on both sides of School Street. If you head south, a walking path leads you through the woods and alongside Puddle Wharf Creek for a short distance. Then the path broadens considerably. One trail veers uphill while the other continues straight ahead.

If you go straight, you will soon encounter a very large sandpit, which is bordered on one side by Forest Street. While not necessarily “pretty” this is nevertheless an interesting landscape to behold. There are spur trails all along the borders of the sandpit, many of which lead to private backyards. It’s probably possible to make your way around the sandpit without hitting a dead end or having to detour out onto Forest Street – but I haven’t yet figured out how to do it! One noteworthy discovery was a stand of “furry” pine-type trees on the perimeter of the sandpit near Forest Street. I’ve never seen anything like them.

Because the trails on the southern section of the property are wide, Puddle Wharf is inviting to cross country skiers. The sandpits are a popular winter sledding spot.

The trails on the northern portion of the property are more wooded and enclosed. Following heavy rains, they can be wet too. The walking path, which was recently improved by Boy Scout Troop 212, winds through the forest, and offers an occasional bench. After a short distance, you will need to cross under the high-tension lines. Go to your right and downhill a little bit, and watch for the trail to continue on the other side of the clearing. It’s my understanding that the trails continue all the way to St. Christine’s Church and Pine Street. On the day I visited this northern side, about 3/4 of the distance into the property there was a giant puddle blocking my way, so I wasn’t able to confirm this.

Puddle Wharf Conservation Area is managed by the Marshfield DPW, the town Water Department, as well as the Conservation Commission. The area is important for protecting the town’s wells and drinking water supply. In fact, five of the town’s wells are located within or adjacent to this property. Marshfield relies on its own groundwater supply (as opposed to water piped in from other sources), so it is essential that these lands be protected from contamination. The property is part of the Furnace Brook Watershed, which drains to the South River.

Motorized vehicles are prohibited from the Puddle Wharf Conservation Area, yet sadly there is plenty of evidence of ATV (all-terrain vehicle) use on the property. There are signs posted that encourage visitors to report any illegal activity. According to the Trailheads, such reporting occurs quite frequently, and the Police Department takes action.

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
November 2006

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168.

Pembroke’s Canoe Club Preserve

What a delight to discover a new place to walk! You’d never know it, but behind the new Pembroke Pointe Shopping Plaza (at the junction of Routes 53 and 139 in Pembroke), you will see a sign for the Canoe Club Preserve, 20 acres of open space managed by the Wildlands Trust of Southeastern Massachusetts. I’m always trying to keep up-to-date on new conservation lands, so on a recent Sunday, I decided to check it out.

The trailhead for the preserve is well marked from the plaza’s rear parking area. Watch for the sign, then head down the hill, and you can choose to go right or left.

If you go to the left, a narrow trail leads you through the woods. For my visit on a bright morning in mid-October, the fall foliage was at its peak. The sun filtered through the trees and illuminated the leaves like stained glass. Beautiful!
As the trail is new and not yet well trod, be careful where you step. There are some small stumps and roots to watch out for. That should change soon enough -- the more people who use the trail, the better it will be!

Eventually the path opens into an extensive boardwalk that crosses swampy woodland and tidal freshwater marsh. You may see moving water beneath the boardwalk – springs that lead to the upper reaches of the North River, which is just down the hill.

Now that it’s mid-fall, the colors of the marsh are fading, but there is still plenty to admire. While the lush green grasses of late spring may turn more heads, the golds and grays of autumn offer their own subtle glow.

As for wildlife, Jessica Schultz, Director of Stewardship for the Wildlands Trust, recommends that visitors be on the lookout for migrating birds. In addition, she says one of the highlights of the property is the view through the forest from the hillside, especially at this time of year. Typically we see the woods from the ground up, but as the Canoe Club Preserve is set on a steep hill, following the boardwalk trail reveals the mid-level of the forest.

The boardwalk eventually leads to a three-way intersection. Turn right and proceed to another dirt path, which completes a loop back to the trailhead. If you look up when you get to this part of the trail, you may see a chair mounted high in a tree. This is an old hunting stand, which eventually will be removed. It’s an odd site in an otherwise natural environment.

Please be aware that the other section of boardwalk that links into the aforementioned intersection is private property, even though it is not yet posted as such. (I didn’t know this at the time of my visit. Trespassing afforded me some great views of the marsh and the upper reaches of the North River, but I don’t recommend you follow suit. Those lands, which include a dock, boathouse and several wooden benches -- belong to the homeowners at the adjacent Canoe Club Estates.)

How did this come to be? As part of his subdivision construction plan, Ron Wilson, the developer of Canoe Club Estates, was required by the Pembroke Planning Board to set aside a portion of his land for conservation. In April 2005, he gave 20 acres to The Wildlands Trust for public use. The Wildlands Trust created the trail and boardwalk system – a process that took a full year to complete since the Pembroke Pointe Shopping Plaza was under construction at the same time. Wilson was enthusiastic about the trail system, and participated in its creation.

I applaud the Pembroke Planning Board for their vision. What a great idea – to require that some land be saved while adjacent properties are developed. And what an attractive feature to offer potential homebuyers – Wilson’s subdivision includes a private nature preserve that links into the Wildlands Trust parcel. I hope to see more collaboration like this in the future.

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, correspondent
October 2006

Kezia Bacon-Bernstein's articles appear courtesy of the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a local non-profit organization devoted to the preservation, restoration, maintenance and conservation of the North and South Rivers and their watershed. For membership information and a copy of their latest newsletter, contact NSRWA at (781) 659-8168.