Laurene Gerrior: Assawompset Complex

 My special place in Rochester was first used by the Native Americans. For thousands of years they roamed there, taking what the land offered, thanking their great spirit for the bounty. Since they left few written records, I can only imagine what they thought. But since they chose to honor their royal sachems by burying them with a sunset view for eternity at this beautiful place, I assume they considered it very special. 

Later, in 1855 and again in 1856, a visitor came to this place and wrote about it. Reading the words Henry David Thoreau wrote about his trips through North Rochester, focusing on the land now called the Assawompset Ponds Complex gives me goose bumps. His sparse style cataloged the facts about what he saw. I'd like to think his visits here influenced his later environmental writings. Here are a few excerpts from his journal:

"Passed over a narrow neck between the two Quitticus ponds, after first visiting Great Quitticus on the right of the road and gathering clamshells there. These shells labeled will be good mementos of the ponds. It was a great wild pond with large islands in it. … Saw a loon on Little or West Quitticus from the road, an old bird with a black bill. The bayonet or rainbow rush was common along the shore there. … in an old orchard near the Quitticus Ponds, heard and at last saw my tweezer-bird, which is extremely restless, flitting from bough to bough and apple tree to apple tree.  These were making the woods ring and are very common hereabouts. … Two men spoke of loons eggs on a rocky isle in Little Quitticus. I saw Lobelia dortmanna in bloom in the last.” 

Today, we are so incredibly lucky to be able to walk the same paths that he and countless Native Americans trod. Thanks to a quirk of fate and local governments, the view that they observed is exactly the same we see today! The cities of New Bedford and Taunton, through eminent domain, took the lands surrounding these ponds to create a protected watershed. In doing so, they erased all signs of human habitation, thus returning this land to its pristine state. Since then it has been protected and until recently off limits to passive recreation. 

Now that most of it is open to walking, cross country skiing, snowshoeing and horseback riding, what is down any of the open lanes of the Ponds Complex?  These are fire roads, many built over old cart paths. They enter off Neck Road, Route 105 and North Avenue towards the water. Beech groves with their ephemeral Beech Drops are encountered. A few small streams are crossed with Marsh Marigolds and ferns of all types visible. Mayflowers and orchids abound in the pine groves. Bird songs and some animals signs are evident, for although hunting is allowed in season, the lack of humans in these forests create a sanctuary for many creatures. The geology is rocky and the terrain varies from flat to quite steep. The total package is one of pristine wilderness. 

Finally, a glimpse of water through the trees is the payoff for the enjoyable trek. From most vantage points there is nothing but uninhabited shoreline in every direction. This is the view of Thoreau or the myriad generations of Native Americans. One almost expects a log canoe to round the corner of one of the islands. Perhaps an eagle or osprey will soar overhead. If you're really lucky, one may dive in and catch a fish then fly to a tree or one of the nests along the shore. If it is spring or fall you might hear the call of a loon, for many stop by here on their annual migrations. Looking down into the clear water, fresh water mussels may be visible or turtles might be sunning on the rocks. Everywhere you look; there is something uplifting to see. Nothing flashy or awe inspiring, but just peaceful and refreshing to the mind and soul.

But there are a few rules of use before traveling there. The administrators of the Complex and Rochester Police ask that visitors park off the public roads but not block the fire roads. Look for the red posts that identify the paths. At each gate, a sign will inform you if that particular path is open to the public. (Some paths are closed because they lead to areas, such as working sand pits, which might be dangerous). Paths in Middleboro, Lakeville and Freetown are also open. A map of the Complex may be purchased at the Lakeville Town Hall that shows the paths and areas of the Complex open for fishing with a valid license. 

I have been walking these trails since the early 60s. No matter where in the world I have traveled, returning here always refreshes my soul. I feel a real connection to those who have traveled these paths before. I hope you take the time to experience this special place in Rochester.

Richard Cutler:      The Mattapoisett River

There are a lot of impressive rivers in the world. I've spent more time on some than I care to remember. Of all those rivers, I like the little trickle of water we call the Mattapoisett River the best. Without much imagination, the river can take you back in time to when water powered mills were major businesses, or further back to before the area was settled. Wildlife can surprise you at every turn: large spiders on stumps, turtles on the banks, red winged blackbirds in the brush, or geese protecting their nests.

Once a year, on Memorial Day, it seems as though all of Rochester gathers together for a party known as the Memorial Day Mattapoisett River Race. Many homes in Rochester don't allow any mention of the race until after New Years.  It is an event that brings people from all walks of life together to earn bragging rights for a year. You don't have to win or even place, you just have to finish.  It is a serious race, but not to the detriment of friendships. I’ve built 3 boats and raced 11 years. I’ve had many partners. One year my two children and I raced in different boats with non-family members.

On race day, the homemade boats are lined up and the racers walk the line admiring the new ones and marveling at the "secret" weapons designed into the latest models. Family and friends follow favorite teams down the river from vantage point to vantage point. Everyone paddling is cheered on. It doesn't matter if it a cold rainy or a hot sunny day. The race goes on. People come out because this is Rochester's race!

The awards ceremony that evening is always well attended and everyone gets a customized certificate and a round of applause. Boat race officials are volunteers, but that doesn't take away from the professional way the race is managed.

Many of the boat race officials and racers are also members of Alewives Anonymous. This band of hardy souls takes the annual migration of Alewives (herring) up the Mattapoisett River very seriously. Fish are counted and brush that might hinder migrating fish (or the Memorial Day racers) is cleared.

With so much reverent attention to one place by so many people, the Mattapoisett River has become special to me. If I never saw the river again, it would still be special to me, just knowing it is there and that so many people care.  

Russ Keeler:      Farm on Vaughan Hill Rd

Ever since my wife and I moved to Rochester 3 years ago, people in town have often asked us “where are you from?”  At first we went into a lengthy explanation of the places where we each lived since we were in high school.  Realizing that was too involved, we next told people that we were from Bourne, where we lived for two years, but were soon embarrassed to find that some people in Rochester knew more people from Bourne than we did.  Now, our answer is that we are from Rochester.  Before now, we did not really have a place that we could call home. 

We moved here because we wanted a good place to raise a family, a place where we could get to know our neighbors, a place that we could all call home.   We also wanted a place where there were still large open fields and dense woods, clean air and water, and abundant nature.  After six months of searching, we found our ideal spot on Vaughan Hill Rd, an old farm with a renovated farmhouse.  The land has both fields and forest, and 100 acres of cornfields lie directly across the street.  And fortunately for us, much of the surrounding land was, or will soon be, in permanent conservation.  This is our favorite place.   

Everything we see or do here depends upon the season.  In winter, we are in the woods more than at any other time of the year.  There are paths to be cleared, firewood to be cut, and antlers to be discovered.  If we are lucky, the ground, which is wet in many places for much of the year, will be frozen, and the cold will keep the dreaded deer ticks at bay.   

Sometime late in March, typically during a warm, rainy night, we will hear the spring peepers, and if we go into the woods with a flashlight, we may see the wood frogs and spotted salamanders emerging from their winter homes, heading towards vernal pools to lay their eggs.  Later in spring we peer into the pools to locate the clusters of eggs, or to watch the tadpoles scrambling to find the pockets of sun warmed water.  Spring presents other wonders to behold:  apple blossoms and orioles, the fragrant Russian olive, the reemergent asparagus bed, and so much more.  We always make sure that we don’t miss the precious few days in May when the migratory birds return and the still bare trees actually allow us to see them.  Last year we saw rufous-sided towhees, great crested flycatchers, and warblers of a type we can never seem to agree on.  In the fields we saw kingbirds and bluebirds, and hope that they build a home in one of our nest boxes, though the tree swallows usually get there first. 

As spring turns into summer we are consumed with work around the house and gardens.  We hear the forest more than we can see it, especially at night, a cacophony of various screeches, hootings, and buzzings, many of which we have not yet identified.  The coyotes are here one week and gone the next.  We wake to hear the pups all crying in unison and then stopping as if on cue.   During late summer and fall we collect and process nature’s bounty, from both what we tend and what grows without our help: black raspberries in July, blackberries in August, followed by the blueberries.  Later in September we collect wild grapes.  They are too tart to eat raw but, with some of our fresh apples, make a wonderful wild tasting grape jelly.  The deer emerge from the woods at about this time, gorging themselves on pears and apples.  Once those are gone, they turn to some of our cultivated saplings and shrubs, much to our dismay.  Fortunately they disappear back into the forest with the start of hunting season. 

I think people in Rochester ask newcomers where they are from because they have such a strong identity with where they live, and perhaps assume that people from elsewhere are equally fortunate.   In the past, my wife and I chose our place to live based upon our priorities in life:  work or school.  Now those things are secondary, and what is most important is where we live and raise our family.  That is why we now live in Rochester.