180. Easthampton: Arcadia Wildlife Sanctuary

I'll admit it, I stumbled to this finish line. More than once during the trip, I found that extra reserve of energy, the one that propelled me over yet another finish line. But this was nearly my fortieth sanctuary visit in three days. I was cooked.

I let the mosquitoes have at me as I walked the trail to my favorite overlook on the oxbow, the tower that shows the heights of the historical floods of the region. This is another place I know too well for the purposes of this blog. I know the story of the land owner who experimented with bird boxes on his property, inviting outside guests to visit his land an experience the wonder of nature. I know how he sold it to Mr. Chafee, who wanted to turn it over to Mass Audubon in honor of his son, dead at a tragically young age. I know about the old tobacco barns, the corduroy road, the raccoon that raised her young in that very observation tower overlooking the marsh.

When I emerged from the trails, drenched in mid-day humidity sweat, Mt. Tom stared me down. "Come on, you know you wanna!" it teased, "I'm in another town, one you haven't walked this year." It wasn't easy, but I blew it off with a quick turn of my head.

I'll get you, Mt. Tom. I'll get you if it's the last thing I do.