Place Entry #3: A Scar in the Park

Saturday, February 12th
5:14 PM
27°

A link to a trail map of Clark Reservation can be found
here.

I stayed inside most of the day. Whenever I looked out the window, the snow fell sideways from the sky. The sun peeped between the clouds around 4:30 PM, so I prepared to leave for Clark Reservation. When I arrived a little after 5PM, the one car in the parking lot was leaving. The trails wove visibly through the trees.  The snow was packed down from the many footsteps that must have traveled the trails today. As I walked along Cliff Trail, I heard the occasional groan of wood as a gust of wind shook the piles of snow from the heavy limbs. Chunks of snow dropped while little snowflakes drifted into the breeze and melted against my face.

The trail forked at Long Trail and later at Saddle Back Trail, but I remained on Cliff Trail until it ended. The trail ended. The trees ended. The shrubs ended. I could see where the trees started again, but I knew the trail didn't pick back up. A large space of forest had been cleared to allow power lines to cut through the state park.

When I visited the park last September, I had walked to this spot. The winter blankets the scar. When the trees were green, the cleared area looked dead and burnt. The brown nakedness stood in sharp contrast to the bushy greenery hugging the land on both sides. Still, the power lines looked wrong in the snowy landscape. The buzzing of the electricity seemed to grow louder the longer I lingered in the open.

The darkness sank into the trees as I hurried back. The snow became a faint shade of gray. Snow pelted from the sky like thick mist. I had kept warm, but now the cold started reaching its way from my face down my neck. Goosebumps rose on my arms. I could see the twinkling lights from civilization beyond the park. I welcomed the thought of those places, warm against the cold and bright against the darkness. Minutes ago, I had felt saddened by the sight and sounds of the power lines, yet I was already thinking happily of the things electricity would bring me: light, the washer and dryer (which I needed to use), the stove, and my laptop. My own thoughts were a contradiction. How can I hate what I love?

On my way out I noticed some holes on tree trunks gathering a deeper darkness than the sky. I stopped at the information boards at the end of the trail and looked for any information on woodpeckers in the area. The pileated woodpecker is among 140 species of birds that make their home in the park. This particular bird is the largest woodpecker in North America. I hope I'll spot the triangular, red blaze atop their head in the future. As I left to head back to my home filled with the marvels of electricity, I wondered how many woodpeckers had lost their homes when that strip of forest was skinned for the power lines.