by Susan M. Poirier, UNH Cooperative Extension Master Gardener

A group of us tries to meet Tuesday afternoons to cross-country ski or snowshoe. The recent warm weather followed by the return of freezing temperatures had melted and iced up the skiing trails, so today we chose snowshoeing.

For much of the trek, we followed the hoof prints of deer that had chosen the packed-down snowshoe trail in lieu of the deeper snow on either side. We could see from the different-sized tracks that more than one deer had been through there.

Occasionally one of us would catch a snowshoe on a stub and nearly tumble down, but generally, we walked without poles and enjoyed the sound of our shoes crunching on the iced-up snow.

Our trail took us through wonderful woods with tall trees, but everywhere we saw traces of the life that had been lived on that land in earlier years. We skirted a massive stone wall, still waist-high after many years. The boulders were much larger than we could have lifted. I guessed that the builders used a stone ladder to hoist the stones in place. There were no small stones anywhere along the length of the wall.

Surely the land had been cleared once, then used for grazing livestock or perhaps as a hay pasture. Had it been farmed for crops and plowed under every year, numerous smaller cobbles would have been scattered throughout or perched on top of the wall.

The wall turned a corner eventually, and coming off the corner, following the original line, was a lower wall, made up of much smaller stones and standing only two-thirds as high as the original one. With snow on the ground, it was hard to tell if the second wall had once been higher. Had weathering taken a toll and rolled parts off? Perhaps a walk this way in spring will give an answer.

In another area, we found a pair of 6 x 6 beams side by side. They stood easily seven feet tall above ground. On one hung old metal hinges. Obviously a gate had once barred the way here. Did it keep cattle or horses in?

We could find only the one side of the framing; the other had been removed or fallen some previous year. The old farm path was now part of the snowshoe trail, so we continued on, treading on ground that once felt the hoofed feet of domestic animals.

Further on, we found more proof of a time when the land had been cleared---­barbed wire. The trees embedded with it were easily 10 inches around, and the wire ran almost right through the middle of them. We could tell that the area on the far side of the trees had been the pastured side­--cattle pushing against the wire would push it into the tree, not away, popping it out.

We also surmised that the pasture had held cattle. Farmers didn't use barbed wire for sheep since the animals' thick coats prevented them from feeling the barbs. In no time at all, you'd have one tangled, and probably injured, sheep.

Sadly, throughout the forest, we found evidence of alien, invasive plants. We clumped through a patch of Japanese barberry, far from any homestead. No doubt, birds had dropped the original seeds and now the plants were well established, taking the place of native plants that should have been calling these woods their home.

Worse, we found miles and miles of Oriental bittersweet. Climbing for the sun, it flaunted its bright orange berries, more numerous than the stones in the walls we had passed. We even found a dead tree, with deep impressions of bittersweet vines spiraling up the carcass. Whether the invasive vines played a role in its demise or not, the tree is now dead and the bittersweet lives on, seeding and spreading and killing as it goes. How many years will it be before most of this beautiful area is suffocated and overrun with this pernicious vine?

Eventually we climbed a knoll and stood, catching our breath and peering through the young saplings to catch a glimpse of the lake beyond. It was a gray day, with a light shower of snow falling, but we could see the snow-covered lake and the dark mountains rising behind it.

The saplings gave evidence of recent clearing, for surely they were no more than 15 years old. What a view there must have been when they were just seedlings. We realized that all the land we had just been hiking through must once have been cleared, giving fine views of the majestic lake beyond. When humans abandoned the land, Mother Nature took it back as she always does.

As we walked back, passing yet more bittersweet, we were saddened by the thought of all this beauty being destroyed by those vines and their orange-red berries. Our walk was, indeed, bittersweet.

Photo credit: djprybyl. Some rights reserved