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Many areas in this country have icon species that add richness to their sense of place. The Texas Gulf Coast is busy working to restore the iconic Kemp’s ridley sea turtle, and we have here in the Connecticut River watershed the American shad (Alosa sapidissima).
News from our River Partners
Since their arrival in the 1600s, New Englanders have constructed fishways to help fish pass over small dams and barriers, but the early designs were rudimentary, often just a constructed gap.
If more evidence was needed to remind us of the need for a watershed-wide strategy toward environmental planning and protection, the recent storms and rains in the north of New England provided just that.
Now we turn our attention to the colors and flavors below the ground—the roots—such as potatoes, carrots, parsnips, beets, celery root, sweet potatoes, turnips, and ginger, to name a few.
Connecticut is at the infestation epicenter of a beast that kills some 200 Americans a year; injures at least 10,000 others; is annually responsible for billions of dollars in property damage; trashes native ecosystems; and spreads an infection that causes fever, headache, fatigue, and, if untreated, injury to joints, heart, and brain.
Some of the finest fly-fishing in all of New England takes place in the headwaters of the Connecticut River, in Pittsburg, New Hampshire.
Last fall I set out once again to witness the magnificent foliage of Mount Sugarloaf in the late afternoon light.
The value of open land accessible to all of us has never been clearer: as the pandemic has shown, available, safe outdoor spaces are critical to our overall health and happiness.
My battalion of three-month Connecticut Union Army volunteers, along with a cavalry unit and a couple of drummer boys, sailed out of New Haven on board a double paddle-wheel ferry headed for Camp Glenwood, a mile or two north of Washington, DC.
On September 1, 1914, at 1:00 p.m., the last passenger pigeon on Earth, Martha (named after Martha Washington), died at the Cincinnati Zoo.
In the marsh, the wilderness makes its last stand.” So wrote the eminent New England bird man, Edward Howe Forbush, now more than a century ago.
The river stank. For decades, towns, industries, and farms from Vermont to Long Island Sound had dumped vile and destructive wastes of every kind into her waters.
Unfortunately, finding the right native shrub can be daunting, and the offerings from the easy-to-find places, such as the local grocery store or big box hardware stores, have a limited menu, most of which are non-native and too many of which are invasive.