When I suggested to Marita that we explore Brownfield Bog this afternoon, she wondered how much water we might encounter on the road. And so we wore boots. Marita donned her Boggs, while I sported my waterproof hiking boots.
Until we got there, we didn’t realize that the privately-owned road leading into the bog isn’t open yet, but thought we’d park at a driveway near the beginning and leave a note. The owner came along, whom she knew, and graciously invited us to park near his home and cross through his woods down to the bog road. He and his wife share a piece of heaven and I took only one cheery photo to remind me of their beautiful spot and kind hospitality.
And then on to the bog it was. Just after the gate, we realized that we couldn’t walk to the Saco River–literally a river road.
But this is a bog, where all forms of life enjoy wet feet.
From pussy willows to . . .
and flowering red maples–wet feet are happy feet and they all thrive in seasonally flooded places.
We kept scaring the ducks off, but know that there were wood ducks among the mix. They, of course, know the importance of wet and webbed feet.
And by their lodges, tree works and scent mounds, we knew the beavers had been active–another wet-footed species. We did wonder about the survival rate of those that built beside the road–seems like risky business given the predators that travel this way.
Speaking of predators, check out the orange rodent teeth among all the bones in this owl pellet.
On this robin’s egg kind of day
with Pleasant Mountain sandwiched between layers of blue,
the breeze brisk at times and the sun warm always,
the flow of water didn’t stop us.
Waterproof boots and wool socks–the perfect combination to avoid wet feet. Well, maybe a wee bit damp, but five hours later and I just took my socks off.