Taking a Walk on the Wild Side

Yesterday I walked the birthplace of the Horse Capital of the World, McConnell Springs.

It’s a city park now, rescued land bounded by a railroad on one side and a (stinky, noisy) industrial “park” on the other. A small nature center stands at the head of the park paths, then beyond that, wilderness. Nothing but woodlands and a newly created wetlands area.

Remnants of farms and mills that stood on the grounds in previous centuries remain. Efforts to eradicate invasive plants are apparent. But all else is natural—a cathedral of treetops above wildflowers, a stream that intermittently flows above and beneath ground fed by “boiling springs” and a “blue hole,” scores of butterflies and dragonflies, and the avian chorus I could clearly hear but never quite see.

I foolishly forgot my camera and had to take these pics with my iPhone. The tiny butterflies and dragonflies were too quick for me to photograph, but the bird and I started a conversation through the glass of the nature center (“You talkin’ to me?”) and the turtle swam to me as soon as I knelt beside the pond. Whatever grasses I brushed against when trying to photograph the yellow wildflower I’ve since learned I’m allergic to. Yeah, I love nature but I need to be in a bubble when I’m in it.



“In wilderness I sense the miracle of life, and behind it our scientific accomplishments fade to trivia.”
—Charles A. Lindbergh