My Wetland

There used to be a wetland much like the one pictured here on the way from the parking lot where I park at SUNY Oswego to the building where my office is located (Mahar Hall). The parking lot, which is a staff/faculty lot that at some point must not have been paved, is generally known as "the mudlots," even though it has been paved for as long as I can remember.

One on side of the parking lot is Lake Ontario, and on the other side, you walk on a paved path up a small incline to the street, Rudolph Road (or County Route 89). Across the street are classroom buildings (Mahar Hall, Lanigan Hall) and Penfield Library. Close to the parking lot there is a utilitarian building that is some kind of waste water treatment plant. There is an unpaved, i.e. footworn, path up the slope between this plant and what used to be my wetland.

A couple of years ago, the college spent quite a bit of the state's money to build a new campus center, which includes a hockey rink. This new building, which connects to a couple of existing buildings on campus, is across the narrow parking lot from Penfield Library and roughly across the road from the mudlots. Campus folklore has it that my wetland spoiled the view from the new campus center to Lake Ontario. Whatever the true reason might be, my wetland was removed.

To be accurate, one-half of the wetland was removed. The part on the right hand side of the paved path up to the road is still present and flourishing. It is the part on the left side, that bordered on the parking lot, that is gone. That is the part that I thought of as "my" wetland, because it was close and I could look into it and see what was going on. This consisted of a low-lying area at the bottom of a wooded slope. The low spots filled with water that mostly didn't drain away, so there was standing water in among the trees. The trees were somewhat shabby maples, alders, a couple of elderly oaks, some dead trunks, and a lot of brush, brambles, and wild grape vines. You might call it a thicket or a scrub woodland. But it also had standing water, so I have always thought of it as a wetland.

Anyway, it was a delight to walk by this thicket and hear the birds singing, watch the squirrels and rabbits scoot in and out, and follow the life course of the many wildflowers that flourished at the margins of the wetland. There was a nearly constant hammering as unseen woodpeckers worked on the trees. My favorite plant was a kind of wild monarda called purple bergamot. I was always struck by the intense blue of the wild chicory flowers on their ugly, spiky stems. No matter how often they mowed the grass verges on either side of the asphalt path, the bergamot and chicory flowers would come back, now close to the ground and with only a very short stem. There were also pink and ivory-colored cornflowers, a couple of flowers whose names I don't know that looked like little orchids, one of them bright yellow, and the usual daisy-like flowers, probably including wild chamomile. There were, of course, less glamorous plants, such as thistles and the common milkweed, which is so important for monarch butterflies. Among the many birds that lived in and around my wetland was my favorite, the red-winged blackbird. Its song is indelibly associated in my mind with summer, that and the humming of cicadas, and you could hear both when you passed my wetland.

To make it plain, my wetland was an eden. It was not quite unspoiled, because from time to time trash would blow or be thrown into it, but it wouldn't have taken much to wade in once or twice a year to fish out the plastic bags and McDonald's wrappers. Beyond that, it was self-sustaining and maintenance free. I can't say the same for the lawn that has taken its place. To begin with, they had to cut down most of the trees and brush and haul it away. When one of the big trees toppled, an enormous woodpecker was seen flying away. Then they had to fill the hollow, grade the slope, and seed it. They ended up putting in drainage systems twice, because they couldn't seem to grasp the notion that water naturally collected in the hollow. Finally, they planted some evergreens and a few small decorative trees. Three of the evergreens have already died, damaged when hit by lawnmowers, I believe. The grass has to be cut, and when it was dry during the summer, gallons of water were sprayed on the grass. It is not a pretty lawn, because much of the gravel and other fill used to regrade the slope protrudes through the relatively thin layer of soil spread over it. Even the Canada geese, which graze in great numbers on nearby lawns, don't bother with this one.

It has been two years, but I still mourn the loss of my wetland and resent the pinheads who destroyed it in favor of a scrubby lawn. A scrubby wetland is fine and natural. A scrubby lawn is a disgrace, and those people deserve it.