Around a sharp bend I found myself in a different forest, dominated by the deep, dark shade of hemlocks, descendants of trees that were clear cut for their tannin-rich bark in the mid-19th century. Now the tanneries, like the bluestone quarries, that had such a dramatic impact on this part of the Catskills, are just a memory. These hemlocks are now threatened by an aphid-like invasive insect, the woolly adelgid, appearing as bits of white cottony matter between hemlock needles. I could glimpse some fine specimens of Catskill bluestone in the bed of the Sawkill, coming into view as the trail bent west to follow the stream’s course. Some of these boulders had been carved into bowl-like shapes during the last ice age. Known as glacial potholes, these rounded Noguchi-like rock sculptures were created by cobbles whirlpooled in this stream when it was gorged with meltwater from the receding glacier.
A little farther along I came to a broad bankside terrace of fine alluvial sand deposited by Sawkill floodwaters. I hoped for raccoon or fox prints here, but only found the meandering tracks of dogs — the Comeau Estate trails are favorites among Woodstock’s canine residents and their owners. When the trail dipped down to the water’s edge, I stepped onto its cobbled beach to inspect a few streambed stones for aquatic life. I was happy to find some wriggling mayfly and caddisfly larvae under the first smooth rock I looked at, since both are indicators of good water quality. The shade of hemlocks and other trees on the Sawkill’s banks keeps the water temperature low, and the dissolved oxygen level high enough for these and other aquatic insects to thrive, along with the trout that feed upon them.
A walk in late April would not feel complete without some wildflowers, and “the Comeau,” as Woodstockers call it, did not disappoint. My friend Dave Holden, who has served as chief steward and trailkeeper at the Comeau Estate for years, overcame his justifiably protective instincts to show me the off-trailside location of a group of red trilliums in flower. When I knelt to photograph them, a whiff of musk from the three-parted, maroon-colored blossoms validated another name for these increasing uncommon members of the lily family: “stinking Benjamin.” Their scent appeals more to flies and carrion beetles than it does to us, but then they pollinate the flowers, while we just admire them. Luckily for us, we share the same olfactory tastes as butterflies and bees, which pollinate most flowers! Also in these woods, I found a related wildflower, bellwort, with its gracefully nodding, straw-colored bells.
The path I chose left the Sawkill to emerge in a clearing with a view of Overlook Mountain in the distance. Wisely, the Comeau Estate’s meadows are mowed just often enough to prevent rosebushes and brambles from claiming them, thus providing habitat for grassland species like the Eastern bluebird, and the monarch butterflies that will lay their eggs on milkweed plants in the summer. This day’s bright sky was reflected in a bed of bluets, whose four-petaled, pale blue flowers have a yellow eye at their center, and seem to glow with a light of their own.
I left the Comeau grateful for its presence near the center of a bustling community. It’s a place that affirms the value of a “commons,” an endangered concept in our property rights-oriented, individualistic culture. The notion of a commons here extends to include wildlife as well as people. Some can afford private sanctuaries, but most of us continue to rely on public land for refuge from the frenzy of city or village life. It’s a tribute to the prudence and vision of any community when it acts to preserve such shared space, as Woodstock has done in putting a conservation easement in place to protect the Comeau Estate. Such foresight is an example to other towns, and a gift to future residents of this one, who will treasure this wild garden in their midst.
