Schoolyard Habitat

Yesterday my supervisor and I went to do a site survey of an area that a local middle school wants to turn into a schoolyard habitat. Evidently there is a grant program from US Fish and Wildlife service that will provide $10,000 to schools that come up with a plan and supporting committee. This school is just starting.

Mostly I took pictures, did a little surveying, and some GPS mapping. The area they have already has a pond full of frogs, cattails, and dragon flies. We started talking to the fish hatchery nearby to see if they'll give some mosquito fish and hopefully we can get the boy scouts involved as well to build a small trail around the pond. I won't get to see the finished product but it's neat to see the beginning of the process.

Shortcut

The other day when I was biking back to quarters along the park tour road it slowly began to rain. Fortunately I was close to a trail head and quickly veered off down a trail to avoid being soaked again. I'd only taken this trail once before and I knew there were several turns off to the right in the direction I had to go. It was later in the afternoon and the trail was deserted and at the beginning very wide and evenly graded. Coming to the first trail intersection I turned right and quickly began going downhill. I remembered that there was a large valley between my present location and quarters so this didn't surprise me. I was only startled when the trail kept getting steeper, going from a gentle pitch on which I could easily brake and switch directions to a near vertical decent that would have turned my bike (and I) into something approximating a lunatic's attempt at modern art had I tried to stop. This was not the trail I'd been on before. At this point the trail had narrowed to about four feet across and I was ducking tree branches and vines the size of thick sausages. Recent rain had washed away much of the gravel surface of the trail and I was bouncing over small gullies and rocks with bone jarring force. I pictured myself hang from a vine that had snared me, while my bike was a mangled heap against a tree. I briefly considered that such an accident was sure to get me an extension on my last internship paper. So there I was hopelessly careening down a hill, dodging vegetation and rocks, and hoping that there was nothing at the bottom that I would need to avoid. I had a vague memory of a stream at the bottom of the valley and was praying there was a bridge with no stairs leading up onto it. Then I hit the valley bottom and the trail leveled quickly. The transition between breakneck decent and dead flat was too sudden for my built up momentum and I rocketed across the valley floor through a long patch of deep mud, which splattered over my shins and back and up the other side of the ravine. I was half way up the opposing hill before I started to slow to any great degree. I had grown unused to pedaling and now had to remind myself of the necessity. At the top of the hill I wondered for a moment where the stream and bridge had gone. I didn't think long about such things since I recognized the next trail intersect.

Shaken, mud splattered, and baring a few red welts from branches that were too much for my reflexes I made it to quarters in record time. My survival justifies the shortcut, but I won't be taking again anytime soon.

It never did really rain.

Man the Barricades

It's nice when the revolutionaries start putting up road signs.

Bits and Pieces

A few days ago I was out driving around and found a few interesting items. The park has lots of small areas that are disconnected from the main park below are a couple of monuments that the park is responsible for but are completely surrounded by private or city land.

The grass is city maintained and only the concrete and granite are park land. 

This sits right in the middle of a busy intersection and next to an elementary school.

Flotsam

Last week I founds this piece of ceramic on the bottom of a shallow portion of Poor Creek, which runs through the battlefield. I took it to the park archaeologist and she told me that the edge design could be from a kind of ceramic commonly made in the 1700's. Unfortunately without more of the piece there is no real way to date it. 

Law Enforcement

I spent today shadowing one of the law enforcement officers. He showed me a different side of the park and told me a lot of good stories of things people have done on park land. These include, but are not limited to the following:

1. Building a cabin back in the woods and living in it until caught.
2. Burning stolen firearms
3. Digging up old forts at night looking for artifacts and claiming (when caught) the that they didn't know it wasn't allowed.
4. Hunting deer in the park.

This morning we were making rounds and got a call for some of the maintenance staff that there was a hole that had been dug at City Point. We were already nearby so we checked it out. The hole was kind-of half covered with loose dirt. When I looked close I could see a skull partially protruding. At that point we started taking pictures. The sight and smell was disgusting and I won't post the pictures here. After uncovering we could tell that someone had buried their dog and the creature was now a little more than half decomposed. Maintenance said they would rebury it (I mean what else could we do). Evidently burying deceased domestic animals is something of a favorite past time in National Parks despite the little problem of it being illegal. I was told that rangers have found buried dogs, cats, gerbils, birds, and a goat. Later when we got back to the ranger station we found that another ranger had been called to Five Forks where a puppy had been abandoned and she'd brought the dog to the office since the local animal shelter was closed today. One of the other rangers decided to adopt the pup. Upon meeting its new owner for the first time the energetic black lab smelled his shoes and promptly peed on the floor.

All in all it made for an interesting day.  

The Taylor Farm

Fort Morton and the ruins of the Taylor farmhouse might be my favorite sites in the main part of the park. The sites are within walking distance (100yrds) of each other and both afford quite a good view out over a large expanse of the battlefield. The farmhouse in particular has an air of lonesomeness and solitude. I've often wondered what became of the Taylors themselves when the war came. We know both sides used the house as an observation post at times since it was between the lines. But where did the family go?

There is also quite a lot of wind all the time on the rise which encompasses both the house and the fort. Even on the stillest days, if there is going to be a breath of air stir anywhere in the park it will be at the Taylor farm. When a storm is coming in swiftly you might just believe you could be blown off of the little ridge. There are days when what I want is a meadow, long and sunlit with grass being rolled by the breeze or thrashed about by a violent wind. Fort Morton is a place for such days. The grass there isn't terribly long because it is often mowed, but it is let grow long enough between each cutting that it can still show the switch and curve; the fickleness of the wind. The five cannon that mark the fort's no vanished wall stand in strange juxtaposition to the grass and wind. Silent, immovable, and steady, they will be at Fort Morton until kingdom come.

Ruins of the Taylor farmhouse

First floor fireplace, chimney, and outer wall foundations

Union battery at Fort Morton