I live and work at opposite ends of the state of Massachusetts. And while I’d prefer to live where I work, I can’t. So like many of you, I travel long distances every week.

Anyone who travels for a living knows it can be tiresome, but in my case, it isn’t all bad. The route I take is rural and scenic, passing through small towns and rural farmland, alongside meandering rivers, as well as several wildlife refuges and state forests. What I enjoy most along the way are the animals I see.

In the town and farm areas I see dogs with their heads and tongues lolling out the window, cats sitting on the stairs of a deck, or sheep and cows and horses roaming their enclosures. Flocks of robins, crows, ravens, blue jays, and geese fly overhead.

As I go further west, the landscape becomes increasingly wild. This is particularly true as I drive through a mountain pass between the Pioneer and Purple valleys. As I approach this section of the state, I see hawks, vultures, eagles and the occasional falcon with some frequency. I also begin to see wild mammals — fox, coyotes, skunks, racoons, marmots and deer. If I stop to walk along the Cold River, there are the tracks of bears, weasels, and once, what looked like an otter. I’ve yet to see sign of wolves, mountain lion or bobcat, although I’m confident they at least pass through the area on occasion. And I’ve stopped on more than one occasion to encourage turtles across the road.

I don’t want to pretend seeing this wildlife means our landscape is in peak condition. Both the ecological and moral health of a landscape is partially measured in the biological diversity of its inhabitants. Most of our landscapes are far less fecund with life than they ought to be. We’ve a long way to go before humankind (as a whole) learns to coexist with other creatures and their habitats.

Still what I see on a weekly basis gives me hope that a sustainable future is still possible.

Cheers, Bill

Image: Cold River Falls