The Blizzard of 2005

Where were you during the Blizzard of 2005? Were you at home, hoping that the power would not go out? Were you in your driveway, shoveling, trying to keep up with the snow? Did you have to leave your house and go stay with friends, or in an emergency shelter? Or were you one of the lucky few, who were out of town, and missed the storm entirely?

For me, none of the above applies. When the blizzard began, I was supposed to be at home, packing my bags for Mexico. When the storm was over, I should have been lounging on a sunny beach. But I got caught in between, and ended up waiting out the blizzard at the Hilton Hotel at Boston’s Logan Airport. Although inconvenient, it wasn’t the worst way to endure a storm.

The blizzard began on Saturday afternoon. My husband, sister and I were scheduled to fly out of Boston early Sunday morning, to meet my parents in Mexico. But when we heard the weather report on Friday night, we decided to book a room at the Airport Hilton. In New England, you never know what will happen with a storm until it is over. We didn’t want to take the chance of getting stranded on the South Shore and missing our flight. We arrived at the hotel at 4 p.m., just as the snow began to fall.

That morning, Janis, our travel agent had called to tell us that our original flight was already cancelled. She had rebooked us for Sunday afternoon. “It’s not so bad,” we thought. We didn’t have to check out of the hotel until noon, so we’d have a leisurely morning, then take the shuttle to our terminal. If all went well, we’d arrive in Mexico that evening, only 10 hours late.

But just in case, we extended our reservations at the Hilton for the following night. By the time we had settled into our room and gone to dinner, Janis had already called to inform us that all flights for Sunday had been cancelled. The airport was closed. But ever-vigilant, she had made new reservations for us – for first thing Monday morning.

We would have to wait out the blizzard. This was frustrating news, but there was nothing we could do to change the weather. We were relieved to have someone looking out for us. Friends who were also staying at the Hilton and headed for Mexico were spending most of their time on the phone, on hold, waiting to rebook their flights, but Janis had taken care of that for us.

Really, we had nothing to complain about. We were missing the first day of our vacation, but at least we were safe, warm and dry. As it wasn’t our responsibility to shovel the snow, we could sit back and enjoy watching it accumulate – which was fascinating, as much of the time it seemed to be falling horizontally. There was good company and plenty of food. For entertainment, we had cable TV and the books we’d intended to read on the beach, plus the gym and the heated pool. And we had time to explore.

The public areas of Logan Airport include five airline terminals and several parking garages, all linked together with window-lined, insulated walkways. The Hilton is an additional link in this system, enabling people to walk from the hotel to Terminal E, and all the way around the airport. We may have been stranded, but we had plenty of space to stretch our legs.

On Sunday morning, after stuffing ourselves at the Hilton’s giant buffet breakfast, we headed over to Terminal E to explore. The walkway gave us a bird’s-eye view of some outdoor parking areas, where snow had already drifted over the roofs of the cars. In the terminal, we had expected to find people sleeping in chairs and on benches, but instead it was practically empty. One newsstand was open, and one coffee shop. Otherwise, it was a ghost town.

It was strange to see the airport without its usual semi-controlled chaos. Usually I’m in such a rush to check in, check my luggage, go through security and be at my gate on time, that I don’t get a chance to look around. But with no crowds, no schedule and no immediate destination, there was plenty of time to observe some of the smaller details. For example, I never would have known that the floors between Terminal E and the Hilton are embossed with marine images – squids and seashells and right whales.

I can’t say that I would ever choose the Airport Hilton over a beachfront hotel in Mexico. But since this was not a choice, I can happily report that I enjoyed myself. Certainly, I felt powerless from time to time, but overall it was a pleasant experience. The hotel staff was friendly and accommodating. Stranded together, strangers seemed less guarded about speaking to each other in hallways and in elevators. We were all in the same boat.

We did finally make it out of Boston. The airport reopened Monday morning. By then our early plane had been cancelled, but Janis had gotten us on an afternoon flight. After one more rebooking (due to a power failure at Logan), we were on our way, arriving in Mexico only a day and a half later than we’d planned. Our luggage arrived about twelve hours after we did.

Perhaps as a reward for our patience, the sometimes-temperamental weather on our island getaway was perfect all week -- sunny and warm. After all the snow-related anxiety we’d suffered trying to leave Boston, we appreciated it all the more.

By Kezia Bacon-Bernstein, Correspondent
January 2005

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.

The Frog Pond

The heart-shaped pond at Kingston's Evergreen Cemetery.

When I was twelve, I dated a boy I knew from church. When we could manage it, we’d skip Sunday School and sneak out to the cemetery. It’s not as morbid as it sounds. The graveyard next to the church was quite large and actually very pretty, with lots of flowers, trees and shrubs. It was an ideal place for a stroll, or just to sit and talk.

There was a particular place we liked to hang out, well out of sight of the church and the roads that bordered the cemetery on two sides. Being teenagers, we thought it was cool to refer to the people whose graves were nearby as if they were our friends. “Let’s go visit Frank and Shirley,” we’d say. No one else knew what we were talking about. Since these people had died over a century before, it didn’t seem the least bit disrespectful.

The cemetery was one of the only places we could have quiet time, just the two of us, without our parents or younger siblings wondering what we were up to. We knew it was a little odd to be frequenting a place typically reserved for mourning and remembrance, but in a way, that just made it more attractive. As it was, we were constantly striving to stand apart from our peers. Having the Duxbury Town Cemetery be our special place certainly enhanced our individuality.

People change; situations change. That particular relationship lasted less than a year, but at the time it seemed like forever. My graveyard days ended along with it. As I grow older and more aware of my own mortality, hanging out among the headstones has lost its appeal. Still, I do appreciate it when I find a nice cemetery – one that feels more like a peaceful resting place than a flat, generic field.

One warm evening this spring, my husband and I were out with some friends, driving around in their convertible with the top down. We were on our way back from a movie, headed for dinner, cruising the back roads of Kingston. As we approached the Evergreen Cemetery in the town center, Chris suggested we stop so he could show us all something interesting.

Chris has been a photographer for the Mariner newspapers for fifteen years now, so he’s seen a lot more of the South Shore than the average person. He knows about all sorts of hidden treasures – things you would never find on your own. Chris wanted to show us Evergreen Cemetery primarily because it is such a lovely place – beautifully landscaped and well maintained. But in particular, he wanted to show us the heart-shaped frog pond just inside the entrance.

It was dusk when we arrived and as quiet as you’d expect on a Sunday night in June. The mosquitoes were out, but not yet in full force – annoying but not yet lethal. The stone-bordered pond was still, with a number of lily pads floating on the surface.

Walking down a slope toward the water, we heard a delicate croak, and then seemingly out of nowhere, a frog leapt out of the pond onto the grass in front of us. We took a few more steps and another one zipped by . . . and then another. The frogs were camouflaged so well in the water; it was hard to tell where the next one would come from. They moved so fast, you could barely see them.

Our friends raced off toward the other side of the pond, intent on catching a frog to study more closely. Chris went back to the car to get his camera. I just stood there, marveling. What a strange scene -- four fully-grown adults, hanging out in a cemetery playing with frogs . . .

by Kezia Bacon Bernstein, Correspondent
June 2003

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.

Brookline’s Larz Anderson Park

The car museum at Larz Anderson Park in Brookline.

My husband Chris grew up in the city – mostly in Brookline. Over the years, he has told me a number of stories about his youth and the adventures he, his brothers, and his friends shared in their pre-adolescence. It seems that whenever we drive around Boston, we pass by a place that holds some sort of memory for Chris. His childhood was so different from mine -- I always enjoy hearing what he has to say.

One place that Chris mentions frequently is Larz Anderson Park, or “Larzy’s,” as he likes to call it, which sits high atop a hill in Brookline. You know a place is important to someone if they’ve given it a nickname.

Larzy’s comes up a lot in conversation, and so after hearing about it time and again, my parents suggested that we go there together sometime. After seeing an article in the newspaper about the car shows the park hosts, we decided to visit one Sunday in May, to have a picnic and see the Cadillacs that would be on display on the lawn.

We couldn’t have picked a better day. After what seemed like interminable bad weather, we were given the gift of a beautiful, warm afternoon in the middle of the month. We headed into the city around noontime, parked our car at the top of a hill overlooking the Boston skyline, spread blankets on the park’s lush green grass, and enjoyed our lunch in the sun. After lounging for a little while, we walked down the hill and spent some time admiring the numerous generations of Cadillacs on display on the lawn.

Larzy’s is home to the Larz Anderson Auto Museum, which is situated in a castle-like carriage house that was once part of the Weld Estate, a 64-acre property donated to the Town of Brookline in 1948. The museum, with its changing array of automotive exhibits, is only one of the many features the park has to offer. There is an ice skating rink (housed in a former Italian pavilion), a modern playground, and gorgeous Asian-inspired gardens . . . plus the aforementioned lawn shows, which run the gamut from Chrysler Dodge Day, to AltWheels, to the Volkswagen Van Transporterfest.

After perusing the cars both outdoors and on display in the museum, we strolled the grounds, admiring the many trees and flowering shrubs in bloom. Formerly the summer estate of Larz Anderson, the US Ambassador to Japan, and Isabel Weld Perkins, his socialite wife -- who together purchased the property in 1899 -- the grounds once featured sculpture, rose gardens, bonsai, topiary, and even a polo field. Much of that is gone now, but fountains, the “Temple of Love,” and water gardens still remain. Larzy’s is such a lovely place; it’s hard to imagine it was once even more opulent.

On the day we were there, the park was alive with visitors. Fellow picnickers, antique car aficionados, families in the playground, teenagers sunbathing on the hill, all of them appreciating this oasis in the middle of a busy city.

You can visit Larz Anderson Park at any time of year – ice skating in the winter, playing outside in the warmer months. With all the elm trees, the fall foliage is terrific. The view of the city skyline alone makes it worth the trip.

The park grounds are open to the public during daylight hours. There are lawn events scheduled from now until October. The museum itself is open year-round, Tuesday through Sunday from 10 to 5.

For more information about Larz Anderson Park, visit the Auto Museum’s website at www.mot.org, or call 617-522-6547. The website offers excellent driving directions.

by Kezia Bacon Bernstein, Correspondent
May 2003

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.

Visiting the North River’s Couch Beach

The view from Couch Beach in summer.

It was a perfect July morning. Sunny, breezy, warm but not hot. A group of more than twenty of us had gathered on the banks of the North River to bend and stretch together as part of the NSRWA’s Yoga at the River’s Edge program.

We stood in silence amid the pines at Couch Beach, holding Vriksasana, the tree posture, breathing deeply, gazing out across the river and the salt marsh. A lone canoe carrying two people and two fishing poles was visible in the distance. The water below reflected the cloud-dappled sky.

“This is what I hope you’ll take with you when you leave today.” I said, opening my arms wide to the scene before us. “This sense of peace.”

I encouraged my students to stay for a few minutes after class, to absorb the landscape more fully. “You’ll be glad you did,” I promised. “It’s a great way to start your day.”

Serenity may come from within, but sometimes it’s easier to find when you surround yourself with natural beauty.

The pine grove at Couch Beach where Yoga at the River's Edge classes take place each summer.

I started the Yoga at the River’s Edge program because I wanted to introduce people to two of the things I enjoy most: the North and South Rivers and the practice of yoga. It has turned out to be a good match. On summer mornings, the open space areas on the banks of the rivers are ideal settings for yoga classes -- secluded, quiet, conducive to contemplation and inspiration.

But you don’t need a yoga class to find inspiration on the banks of the river. You don’t need someone instructing you how to move and breathe in order to feel contemplative or at peace. It helps, though, to take yourself to a beautiful place.

Couch Beach is one of Marshfield’s little-known conservation areas. If you spend time on the North River, you’ve certainly noticed Couch from the water, the only sandy beach upstream of The Spit. But from land, it’s a lot harder to find.

The access path to Couch Beach is located at an unlikely place, at the rear of Couch Memorial Cemetery, off Union Street. Driving straight down the cemetery’s main road, you come to a fork. If you bear right, you’ll see a metal gate, just outside of which are four or five parking spaces. From there, unless you’ve got your bike, you’ll have to walk.

The path isn’t all that long, and it’s a nice walk -- probably a half mile through the woods. If there have been heavy rains, you may have to skirt a few puddles, which grow in size as you approach the beach. Some of the larger puddles, which have been known to be six inches deep, have detour paths to lead you around them.

The waterfront area is large, a pine forest stretching for a considerable distance both upstream and down. High above water level, it offers tremendous views in any direction. In contrast, the beach itself, sited very neatly at the outside curve of a single bend in the river, is quite small. But it’s rarely crowded. You may have to share with a few other people, but seldom any more than that.

I enjoy wading in the river at Couch Beach, but I don’t swim there very often. At mid- and high tide, there is plenty of water, but the current can be strong. I never swim alone at Couch, and always feel safer wearing a life jacket as a safeguard.

I’m more likely to visit Couch Beach to appreciate the scenery. It’s a fine spot for a picnic, or just to spend some time reading, writing, or in conversation. In winter, when I want to get outside for a short and not too strenuous walk, the trek from my car to the river and back again suits me well.

For all Couch Beach offers, I think it’s the view more than anything else that keeps people coming back. I recommend you go see it for yourself.

by Kezia Bacon Bernstein, Correspondent
August 2001

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.

A New Bridge on the South River

Installing the Francis Keville Bridge on the South River in Marshfield.

After years of planning and discussion, there is now a footbridge over the South River in Marshfield Center, thanks to the efforts of the Planning Board, area businesses, and the family of Francis M. Keville, who erected the bridge in his memory.

The South River passes right through the center of Marshfield, yet many people have no idea that it’s even there. The river is visible upstream at Veterans Memorial Park, its first “public” appearance after winding through the woods of west Duxbury for several miles. It flows under Route 3A, and from there passes behind the playground of South River School, emerging again at Willow Street. But due to fences, dense vegetation, and traffic, none of these are ideal places to view the river.

From Willow Street east, the South River disappears amongst the vast expanses of salt marsh that border it on each side. You can catch small glimpses of it here and there in the side streets of the Rexhame neighborhood, but the river doesn’t appear again in plain sight until it reaches the back side of Rexhame Beach. Downstream from there, it completely changes character, suddenly out in the open as the western border of Humarock’s entire 3-mile extent.

Because of this visibility, many people are familiar with the lower portion of the South River, but few have had the opportunity to get to know the upper half. One of many reasons to celebrate the construction of this new footbridge is that the general public will now have easy access to the upper portion of the South River.

Why would you want to go see the South River? For one, it’s a feast for the eyes. Springing back to life after winter dormancy, the marsh along the river’s edge is just beginning to turn green. The colors change from day to day, fine tuned to the weather and the position of the sun in the sky. On a clear day the river appears deep blue in the distance, transparent up close, while on a cloudy one it might be green, brown, or gray.

The ever-shifting tide is another factor. Its influence might completely flood the marshes at one time of day, and later reduce the river to not much more than a trickling stream. Right now you can see the remnants of a dock -- it appears to have washed up on the northern bank quite some time ago, no doubt delivered on a storm tide from points downstream.

From the bridge, you will also be able to observe the South River’s simple yet elegant course, snaking right and then left and then right again as it makes its way from source to sea.

As beautiful as it is, it’s not the river’s visible qualities that most enchant me. Visiting the South River -- perhaps any tidal river -- brings me a profound sense of peace. There is something about a tidal river that quiets people down, makes them more contemplative and calm. I’ve seen it time and again: people arrive at a river and are struck silent, feeling no need to speak, even to move. The serenity just pulls you in.

That’s another thing that’s ideal about this new bridge being so centrally located. You might stop on your way to work with your coffee or breakfast, or take a few minutes out of a morning of errands, or make a brief detour at the end of the day. The short walk takes you away from the immediate hum of traffic. In the midst of the hustle and bustle of a busy downtown, you find sanctuary -- perhaps just what you need to get your day started on the right foot . . . or back on track. It’s simple, it’s accessible and it really does make a difference.

Getting There: The Keville Footbridge is located down a short path behind the new CVS in Marshfield Center — at the intersection of Route 139 and Webster Street. There is ample parking. There is also walking access from South River Street, a little bit east of Willow Street, next to the electric transformers. Take a short break from your day to stop and see the river, or spend an afternoon exploring the trail that leads from Summer Street, along Carolina Hill, across Ferry Street, behind the Fairgrounds, and across South River Street and the river to the new bridge.

by Kezia Bacon Bernstein, Correspondent
May 2001

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.

The Natural Treasures of North Weymouth: Webb and Great Esker Parks

Great Esker Park in North Weymouth.

Winter puts me in hibernation mode, and as much as I love it, there’s only so much time I can spend curled up on the couch with a book. As the days become noticeably longer and brighter, I’ve resolved to get outside more, particularly on Sunday afternoons, when my hours of free time seem most fleeting. The day may pass more quickly when I spend an hour or two outdoors, but it never fails that I feel more alive on account of my excursions.

These days I’ve set my sights on broader horizons, leaving the familiar sanctuaries of my hometown and the communities that surround it, and branching out further on the South Shore. I’ve been delighting lately in how much Weymouth has to offer in terms of open space.

Weymouth is a large town, but I tend not to think of it as coastal. Mostly what I see of it are the commercial routes — the highway, Routes 53 and 18. But in the northern part of town, the area spanned by Route 3A, is a tapering finger of land extending out into Boston Harbor and delineated by two tidal rivers, the Back and Fore. This peninsula contains several open space areas, all with spectacular views.

Last spring my husband, whose years as a newspaper photographer have made him an expert on the South Shore’s little-known parks and nature preserves, introduced me to Weymouth’s Great Esker Park, a narrow strip of high land bordering the Back River to the west. We walked our bikes up a tall hill, and then set off down a winding and often steep (but paved) wooded road that extended along the edge of the salt marsh. Eventually the path led us out onto the marsh, where we left our bikes behind to walk among sand and pebbles. There was so much to see and explore . . . I knew it was a place that had a lot to offer, but the offerings would have to unfold over time. I’m looking forward to going back sometime soon.

More recently, we visited Webb Memorial State Park, all the way out on the tip of the peninsula, due north of the Hingham Shipyard and the commuter boat docks. Because of strong winds and a considerable chill in the air, we chose the slightly more protected inland paths; but had we chosen to, we could have spent our entire walk tracing the river bank and the edge of the sea.

The view from Webb Park is panoramic — Quincy’s Germantown and Hough’s Neck to the northwest, Boston’s skyline and Harbor Islands, Weymouth’s Grape Island to the north, and to the east, much of Hull, plus World’s End Sanctuary in Hingham. At that’s just at first glance! Taking a longer look, you can make out the brick buildings of Thompson Island, the oddly shaped structures of Deer Island, the Quincy Shipyard’s giant crane.

Like many of the South Shore’s coastal conservation areas, Webb Park has a military history. A large stone memorial commemorates the Grape Island Alarm of 1775, where “Weymouth militiamen repulsed an attempt by the British to secure supplies from Grape Island from General Howe’s beleaguered Army in Boston.” The park was used again by our armed forces as recently as World War II and the tense days of the Cold War. As my companions and I stood gaping at a seemingly inexplicable exhaust fan emerging from an otherwise ordinary hill, a fellow walker explained to us that there was a bunker underneath, and that the site was once a station for Nike missiles.

Getting There: For Webb Memorial State Park in Weymouth, take Route 3A northbound, and turn right onto Neck Street (across from Dunkin Donuts). Neck Street eventually becomes River Street. The park is located at the very end of the road. For Great Esker Park, again from 3A northbound, turn left (at Dunkin Donuts) onto Green Street, and then left again onto Julia Road. The park is accessible from the Julia Road playground.

by Kezia Bacon Bernstein, Correspondent
March 2001

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.

Discovering Daniel Webster Wildlife Sanctuary

The main trail at Daniel Webster Wildlife Sanctuary in Marshfield.

One of the best walking places in the area just got better! After years of effort and an extensive permitting process, the Massachusetts Audubon Society recently added a new trail and constructed two bridges over the Green Harbor River at the Daniel Webster Wildlife Sanctuary in Marshfield.

The Webster Sanctuary, a.k.a. Dwyer Farm, is comprised of a diversity of habitats -- from meadow to marsh to woodland, plus a river and a pond. Trails and boardwalks stretch across expansive fields, along riverbanks, and through woods of cherry, maple and birch. To encourage visitors to pause and reflect upon their surroundings, the property also includes two wildlife observation blinds, numerous benches in quiet spots inviting contemplation, and a platform at the top of a small hill that offers one of the most unique views around.

There is so much to experience at Daniel Webster Sanctuary, yet I admit I have often yearned for more. I’ve longed to see what lies beyond the easternmost expanse of the trail system -- to explore the meadows that stretch from Fox Hill to the sea. I’ve daydreamed about paddling my kayak from the tide gate on Dyke Road, upstream through the Webster Sanctuary, as far up the Green Harbor River as possible. And I’ve always wanted to explore the woods on the other side of the river.

What a thrill that one of those wishes has now been granted! The River Walk, the new trail at the Webster Sanctuary, branches off from the property’s main path, crosses a simple but beautifully constructed wooden bridge, and leads onto a finger of land owned by the Marshfield Airport. Surrounded on three sides by the Green Harbor River, this small parcel was until recently a mystery and a temptation to sanctuary visitors-- in plain view across a stretch of river, and yet completely inaccessible.

The trees one sees along the River Walk’s boardwalk path are quite strange. This is a recurring theme in the Green Harbor River Valley. Not only at the Webster Sanctuary, but at nearby conservation areas Wharf Creek, Cherry Hill, and Webster’s Wilderness, the tree trunks are dark, gnarled and stunted-looking. They twist and turn at odd angles, sometimes stretching out parallel to the ground. There is very little growth around them, and very little color, resulting in a landscape that is both eerie and intriguing. What makes the trees grow this way? Is it the soil? The wind? The salt air? The lack of light? Is it some man-made influence?

The Daniel Webster Wildlife Sanctuary is located at the end of Winslow Cemetery Road in Marshfield. From Webster Street, you can follow the blue and white Audubon logo signs. At the end of the road, you will find a small parking area and a visitor information building. At the entrance, you can pick up a trail map, learn more about the property, and find out what creatures have been observed there lately.

Proceed from there to the trails. My favorite tour of the property begins on the Fox Hill trail. Follow it downhill, and take a short detour through the Piggery Loop. Keep your eyes open for the seven northern harriers (marsh hawks) currently inhabiting the sanctuary -- sometimes they perch on top of bird houses.

Once you’ve returned to the main trail, look for signs for the River Walk, which will take you to the first bridge. Cross the river, and follow the boardwalk through the woods and on to the second bridge. You might pause there to see not only a great view of the surrounding marshes and meadows, but also, if you’re lucky, the muskrats who play in the water below. Be sure to stay on marked paths, and don’t stray too close to the river. The banks are unstable and the riverbed itself extremely silty -- not the kind of place you’d want to get stuck (like the Audubon staff member who once sunk in to the top of his chest waders).

The second bridge will connect you with the Sparrow Trail, which leads along the river and back to the main path. Climb to the top of Fox Hill, to the observation platform. If you’re there at the end of the day this winter, you might see long- and short-eared owls hunting. Because the sanctuary is open only from dawn until dusk, the casual observer will have only fleeting opportunities to see these rare creatures. Watch the skies, looking out over the fields toward the ocean, for the fluttering flight of the short-eared owls, or scan the trees and signposts for the more direct movements of the long-eared ones. Audubon occasionally offers guided tours of the property, where you can stay later and see more.

From Fox Hill, return to the main path. You may hear meadow mice scurrying in the grass. Take the winding Secret Trail through the woods to Pond Loop. Consider stopping at the observation blind as well. Most likely, you’ll encounter a flock of Canada geese on your way to the exit; watch your step for their green droppings. Allow yourself at least an hour for this tour, and if you have binoculars, bring them along.

Like all Massachusetts Audubon lands, activities at the Daniel Webster Wildlife Sanctuary are restricted, so please leave your dog, bicycle, skis, and loud voices at home. For a more formal introduction to the property, inquire with Audubon’s South Shore Sanctuaries office (781-837-9400) about their Family Days at the Farm program, happening on the third Sunday of each month this winter, from 1-3.

by Kezia Bacon, Correspondent
January 2000

Kezia Bacon’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.