PIctures will be lacking for this blog, in the chaos of moving.
Please bear with me – imagelessness will not be the case from now on.
Moving to Lawrenceville takes me to within less than a mile of the “Pole Farm.” This preserve was nicknamed because there were wooden telephone poles on this AT&T property, upon which telephone men (very likely no women) learned to climb and descend in order to repair wire problems.
Now the old white barn has been painted red, and marvelous triails extend in many directions, especially to Hopewell. Trails smooth, with small gravel that does not turn the ankle. Trails broad and safe, so one can walk and only look for birds, and blossoms, clouds and other eager walkers, without worrying about roots, about turning an ankle or worse.
Everything has been built with care, with fine, strong materials.
There is a bird blind with useful pictures of grassland and other birds they are managing this preserve to attract/ These panels also effectively describe bird song, so that anyone can identify rarities about to be encountered..
There are two birdwatching platforms, –one where one is likely to see the increasingly rare (but likely here because of restored grasslands) Northern Harriers now, and one where one will see exotic short-eared owls in early winter.
There are trees and shrubs, –some blooming, some budding, some struggling, because of all the disturbance on this sight.
There is the likelihood of seeing a fox and even coyotes – for I have seen coyote scat dramatically placed in the middle of Pole Farm Trails on earlier walks.
There is silence and there are flowers. There is bird-song, and the occasional silver plane making its certain way to Mercer Airport. Somehow these planes are not disturbing.
There are sturdy benches carefully placed.
One come upon parts of the forest where the understory seems to be revivifying, even though deer-hoofprints punctuate any muddy spots.
Signage is fequent, informative, and useful – to the tenth of a mile for any particular trajectory.
I was given the miracle of the ‘ping-pong-ball’ song of the field sparrow over and over, on Friday, on Sunday this past weekend.
I was given the sight and sound of the elusive, dramatic towhee, with its unlikely chestnut-hued sides, dark head, whitenesses, and surprising heft – as this is a member of the sparrow family.,
Above all, with two different friends, within seconds of my new apartment in Lawrenceville, I was in a nature paradise, once ruined, now returning to life that matters to wild creatures.
It therefore matters to me.
And will to you — especially if you bike, because you can zoom off to Hopewell and back.
And think about times when Roosevelt and Churchill spoke transcontinentally in most crucial days of WWII, through facilities maintained at this site, and explained on clear signs.
Good hiking! Good birding! Great history!