Fact: Feral hogs are hairy. Another fact: I once copy edited a story where the writer kept referring to Farrell Hogs. It took me most of the article to figure out it wasn’t a person. Context is your friend.

And another fact, just because I adore linking to this because of the last paragraph: If a feral hog and a coyote faced off, don’t necessarily put your money on the coyote.

Happy Trails
By Bill Holston

Last weekend, my friend Ben and I returned to the Trinity Forest. We’ve been wanting to see the mouth of White Rock Creek from the east side. Several weeks ago, we hiked over from Sam Houston’s Spring off of Pemberton Hills Road to the place where White Rock Creek empties into the Trinity. It was a grand walk and adventure. It was cool to sit in a place in Dallas that is miles from pavement. I’m happy that Ben has spurred me to explore off of beaten paths for some of our less accessible areas. I was happy that my hiking buddy Scott Hudson joined us for this exploration. It turned into a fun adventure.

We parked at the trailhead of the Buckeye Trail off of Bexar. We ascended the Trinity Levee and started walking to the east. The levees here were constructed as a response to a 1989 flood. The neighborhood once housed Turner Courts, a housing project that was demolished in 2009. According to the city, the project was severely distressed and required demolition. The area will be rebuilt with the Buckeye Trail Commons, which will hopefully be a more successful venture in affordable housing. It will be close to some of the nicest hiking in our area.

We walked down the levee, and descended in the direction of Bart Simpson Lake, named as its perimeter has the profile of the audacious youngster. It’s a cool hike along the top of the levee, with great views of downtown, as well as the Great Trinity Forest stretching out to the South. We walked along the perimeter of the lake. The smaller lakes in the area are mostly dry, as a result of our continuing drought. At the end of Bart Simpson Lake, we headed through woods in the general direction of White Rock Creek, which is basically due southeast. There were hints of a trail, which was apparently constructed by Groundwork Dallas, and there was occasional surveyors tape marking the route. This isn’t really an identifiable trail, though. After about twenty or thirty minutes, we reached White Rock Creek, basically where Bryan’s Slough enters it. The woods are mostly cedar elm, with some ash and bois d’arc. We followed the creek toward the Trinity. The Creek meanders along, and we’d occasionally bear to the west, to skirt the dense thickets of briars. We remarked several times about what it must have been like for early settlers to try to penetrate these dense thickets of thorns and brambles. The Creek wouldn’t have been easy to cross, either, as it has steep muddy banks, and an apparently soft bottom. We could see through the winter thinned woods that we were nearing the river. The most difficult spot were the dense thicket of brambles close to the River. I used my Easter Red Cedar walking stick to knock aside some of the thorns. Ben wisely had a machete.

It felt pretty adventuresome, honestly. Eventually we were standing on a sand bluff overlooking the spot where White Rock Creek flows into the Trinity. We heard the rattle of a Belted Kingfisher, which we watched soar down the creek and land on a snag in the River. Some Mallards flew over as well. We stood, drank some water, and took in the sight of the river, in the sunlight, filtered by cloud cover. We then headed back through the thicket. We’d noticed a side trail and found that there’s a very clear, flagged trail which headed in the direction of Buckeye Trail. This was a very pretty walk. The woods are open and savannah-like, and there’s thick carpets of Inland Sea Oats (Chasmanthium latifolium) and Virginia Wild Rye , (Elymus virginicus) a cool weather grass that covered the forest floor in green. It’s easy to see why Jacob Metzger used this area as pasture for his dairy cows. Metzger was a Swiss immigrant to the area in 1875. We walked past several towering Bur Oaks (Quercos Macrocarpa) which stand in contrast to most of the smaller trees in this part of the forest. The Bur Oaks must have been spared the ax, as they are giants in this area of the forest. We followed the trail past the Buckeye Grove. It was gratifying to see the places where we’d cut the invasive Privit, and where there are large stands of our native Buckeyes (Aesculus glabra var. arguta) , which make for beautiful blooms in the Spring. Finally, we walked past the brilliant red leaves of our Eastern Wahoo Tree (Euonymus atropurpurea), with its brilliant red fruit. We made a short side trip over to a Trinity River overlook and the spot of Miller’s Crossing.

It was fun to have a physical challenge, in contrast to a more real life challenge. I’m pursuing one of the biggest changes of my life right now. For thirty years, I’ve practiced law, and for the last 25 years, I’ve been in the same law firm. It’s a great place. We like to say that we take the practice of law very seriously, but we don’t take ourselves too seriously. It’s the only kind of place I could have practiced law for 25 years running. We’ve done all sorts of things here: multiple jury trials and successful appeals to courts of appeals. We’ve handled million-dollar real estate and business deals. My passion, however, has been that for the last 20 years I’ve been handling pro bono asylum cases for people fleeing torture and prison, because of their political opinion and religious belief. It is the most gratifying thing I’ve ever done in my life. Ask yourself what it’s like to have a client say, “I know what you did for me, you gave me my life.” Yeah, humbling. Very humbling. Not once — not once — have my partners ever complained about the expenditure of non-billable time. For the last ten years I’ve taken these cases from Human Rights Initiative of North Texas, one of the finest human rights organizations in America. The position for executive director opened. My hero Betsy Healy has been acting as interim director. My wife and I discussed it and I decided to apply for the position. I’m thrilled that they just offered me the job. It is, of course, a financial sacrifice for my wife and me, but it is, I believe, my life’s calling. If you are interested in why I might leave 30 years of law practice, you’ll find a clue here. It’s an amazing gift to be able to pursue work that I believe in my heart I was made to do. I am an astonishingly lucky man to be married to a wife that supports me in this.

Oh, next time you see me, I’m probably going to ask you for money. Just a warning! Hey, if you want to say thanks for these months of Law Man Walking, drop a check to these folks.

I’m sad to leave my comrades at my law firm. G. Dennis Sullivan is one of the best lawyers in this city. When I joined him in 1985, I was somewhat of a feral lawyer. I’d tried multiple jury trials, but I had never had anyone take a red pen to my writing. He made me a better lawyer. And watching him, with his wife and his children, made me a better man.

So this is very likely the last Law Man Walking. I’ve enjoyed doing this, and, if Tim permits, I may submit a piece or two, time permitting. And so, happy trails. Thanks for reading.

My husband and I like to take our dog for late-night walks on Katy. He enjoys the smells and chasing the occasional squirrel (the dog that is, not my husband). But I was a little on edge when we went for our walk around 9:30 last night. I’d heard about a coyote sighting. And Miko, our very fluffy Samoyed, looks like an easy target for a hungry coyote. So I kept looking behind us as we walked. We got to just a little more than a quarter mile north of the American Airlines Center, when I turned around and saw him. He was very close, and he was obviously stalking us. He wasn’t bothered when we turned around to look at him, but he did stop, look at us, look at our dog who hadn’t turned around and had no idea what was going on, and then sauntered into the wooded area next to him. The only way back to the car was to pass by where he was. So we carefully made our way and then turned around. We saw him cross the trail and go to the other side. Then he sat and watched us for a while before taking off.

So be careful out there. Keep your dogs close. And surround yourself with people slower than you.

This morning, I find that I probably owe my dog an apology, because there was an earthquake pretty much where I live-ish. Geologists say the epicenter of the 2.0 quake was around Northwest Highway and Inwood Road.

But you know what? The dog also gassed up the joint pretty bad last night, so I’m going to call this even. So where were you during the Great Quake of 2012*? I was Febreezing dog farts.

* unless, you know, we have another. Can that happen? Is this a thing now?

The crew prepares the River Birch trees for planting.

The Woodall Rodgers Park Foundation planted the first of 322 trees for the upcoming Park this morning at 10:30.

TurningPoint Foundation donated the first 25 River Birch trees. With the new trees came a new tree trust, which will allow donors who provide $25,000 or more to the Foundation to pick which trees they want to plant and select an area to place them in the Park.

One of the donors, Kristin Schor of the Gaedeke Group, says while her company already sponsors plant life around the United States, the people in her company are excited to see what they can do in their own backyard.

“We want to make a difference,” Schor says. “Even if it is one tree at a time.”

The trees are being planted in organic dirt placed on top of lightweight filler, because dirt alone would be too much weight for the bridge to handle, says Joanna Singleton of Jackson Spalding Communications.

Planting will be going on all day today and Thursday, but there’s not much else to see on top of Woodall Rodgers Freeway right now except a lot of organic dirt.

If you’re interested in what the Park will look like when it’s finished, the Foundation’s website has a bird’s eye view of what they’re planning for it. —Jessica Melton

The piece brought back similar memories from one of my hunting episodes. We shot pen-raised birds on a bitterly cold day along the Red River. A temperature in the teens and strong north wind caused continual eye tearing, but the pheasants and chukars flushed reasonably well during the initial session. Later in the morning, our attention turned to the quail which had also been released in the pre-dawn hours. Walking one field, I could see a quail standing like a lone sentinel on a rock still quite a distance away. I was surprised when it failed to fly as I moved within shooting range, and then even as I walked alongside. Upon nudging it with my boot, the frozen quail fell over stiffly on the rock–apparently pen-raised birds do not possess the cold weather survival skills of their wild brethren.—Joe Adams

Parched on the Trinity
By Bill Holston

There are lots of things that divide us these days. There’s politics, language, nationality, and, every one’s favorite, religion. Sometimes it’s even a geographical feature. Dallas has been divided by the Trinity River many times, and not just physically.

Saturday morning was a perfect fall day. I love the fall. It’s my favorite season of the year. I love the cool mornings, especially the first time I see the vapor of my breath in the morning as I enjoy a cup of coffee. I love seeing the changing seasons, and it’s great to begin to see some fall color mixing in with the lack of color in the trees that are drought stressed. These cool mornings just beg for a walk in the woods. So I headed down to cross the Trinity and spend some time with our 6,000-acre Great Trinity Forest. I’ve read that the name was coined by the great Ned Fritz, because he felt that having a name would foster preservation. Much of this forest is second-growth timber, because so much of the land was cleared for farming and ranching, but there are areas of towering old Burr Oaks and native Pecans.

This weekend I traveled down to the newest trail along the Trinity River, where it starts at the Trinity Audubon center. I met my new friend Ben, who writes a great blog about hiking and biking the Trinity Trails. He has hiked in this area often and graciously agreed to give me a tour. I drove the bridges over the Trinity River and then across Loop 12 to the entry to the Center. It took me all of thirty minutes to get there. Mist rose from the Trinity into the cool fall air and the sun was just beginning to lighten the sky in the east. There was hints of frost on the grass.

We met just as the gates to the center opened. We walked along the Audubon Trails over to where the new City of Dallas Trail comes close to the preserve. There’s no gate, so we crawled under the fence and started walking. The Trail crosses Trinity River at a beautiful bend in the River. We saw what we thought was a hawk soaring in the distance. As I pulled out the binoculars, I spotted a Caracara, Caracara Cheriway, which is actually a member of the Falcon Family. It’s also known as the Mexican Eagle. We watched it soar out of sight, and then we hiked along the lovely towering native Pecans (Carya illinoinensis) which is the dominant tree in the area.

The trail roughly parallel’s the Trinity River. It’s a wide trail. We wandered over to Lemmon Lake. On the trail to Lemmon Lake we saw some very nice older trees including Post Oaks, which are unusual in this area of Dallas. (Quercus stellata) The woods were carpeted with Virginia wild rye, which had long since turned brown, but was covered with seed. This is an amazing spot, a small lake that serves as a haven for migrating waterfowl. I’ve seen pictures of Roseate Spoonbills and White Faced Ibis in this Lake. Not this fall, though, as it is bone dry.

We walked across the exposed lake bed to find a low spot where the last Alligator Gar must have been living prior to all of the water drying. Their carcasses lay exposed in a graphic reminder of the severity of this drought. We made our way along an old dam, which must have been built to partially impound the waters for this lake. We climbed up on the dam, and walked along. Ben pointed out a couple of ancient cottonwoods. It was easy walking along the top of this dam. If the city were inclined to increase access, they would really only need to cut some brush and scatter some mulch. It’s that great. Honestly, it is something I question about our parks. If I were king of parks (and if I were ever to be a king of anything, I’d like it to be parks), I’d sure minimize the infrastructure. I can’t imagine anyone actually walking down here requires a 12 foot trail, and the immense stone pillars that show up occasionally. It actually detracts as far as I’m concerned.

We walked over to the Trinity, which at this point is no longer the featureless channel that runs near downtown Dallas, but has the natural meanders of a river. As we walked across the dry lake bed, we saw quite a few hawks, but none close enough to identify. They shrieked at us as we disturbed their solitude. I know how they feel. I like a little solitude as well.

We made our way back across the dam and then around a small pond that was still filled with water. It made both of us think the pond must be spring fed, as it was not connected to the river, and the nearby larger Lemmon Lake was bone dry. There were a few sunken boats lining the sides of the pond. As we dropped down off of the dam, we saw the remains of several old fishing cabins. There were very old large timbers, foundations, and the remains of piers. These were only ruins and the forest had reclaimed this spot where people once stayed and fished. This was a remote spot and even today feels very far removed from the city.

I’m not sure who fished here. The nearest houses must be the area of town called Joppa (pronounced Joppie by locals). Joppa was a Freedman Community, settled by the former slaves of the Miller plantation. The place takes its name from the Biblical city Joppa (modern day Jaffa), which means “beautiful” or “the beginning” in Hebrew. Joppa was the port city of Israel, where Solomon had timbers shipped from Lebanon for the construction of the temple.

Like most history, there’s a dark side to this past. Bill Minutaglio writes in In Search of the Blues: A Journey to the Soul of Black Texas, “Sixty to Seventy-five years ago and five hundred yards northeast of Joppa’s New Zion Baptist Church, The Dallas Klan actively maintained its whipping posts, trees whose lower limbs had been cleared away so a man could be tied to a trunk.” These stories of our sad racial past touch me in a really profound way. I was raised in Alabama. I was raised to be a racist. Racial epithets were a common part of my childhood. I’m embarrassed to admit that, of course. But the truth is, every aspect of my life was segregated. I credit Boy Scouts for my racist blinders coming off. When I was 12, Camp Mauvilla in Alabama was the first place I had common shared experienced with African American kids my age. We swam together, camped together, and for the first time I realized how foolish everything I’d been told about race really was. Despite the things that people criticize about Scouts, I still have a fondness for the program because of its part in shedding that racist heritage. I hesitate to bring up this past, but I think it’s important to remember that these days are not ancient history. It was in my lifetime and in my home state that police turned fire hoses on children. There is no doubt many years of inequality that enveloped a community like Joppa. It makes me curious to know more. It’s part of understanding who we are as a city.

Ben and I returned to the trail and headed across a dirt path in the direction of McCommas Bluff. McCommas Bluff was originally called Shelton’s Bluff after William Shelton, an Illinois veteran from the Mexican War. The bluffs carried his name, until after the Civil War. The McCommas family purchased the Shelton land and by 1880, the area was called McCommas Bluff. This site is rich in Dallas history. Plans to create a port to transport cotton led to the building of locks along the river. According to a Texas Historical Marker:

“In 1866 the Trinity River Slack Water Navigation Co. proposed dams and locks for the waterway. Capt. James H. McGarvey and Confederate hero Dick Dowling piloted Job Boat No. 1 from Galveston to Dallas, but the trip took over a year. The Trinity River Navigation Co., formed in 1892, operated H. A. Harvey, Jr., which carried 150 passengers. “The Harvey made daily runs to McCommas Bluff, 13 miles downstream from Dallas, where a dam, dance pavilion, and picnic grounds created a popular recreation spot. In 1900 – 1915 the U. S. Government spent $2 million on river improvements, including a series of dams and locks, before World War I halted work. A critical 1921 Corps of Engineers report ended further federal investment.”

In 1894, the now defunct Dallas Times Herald reported about plans to navigate the Trinity:

“With what has been already accomplished, $50,000 spent on the river between here and McCommas’ Bluff, will make that part of the river one of the best and most important waterways of the country. It would largely solve the lumber problem for Texas, and completely solve the firewood problem for Dallas. The Trinity is the Amazon of this state and should be developed on the lines that Nature has made so feasible.”

Yes, Dallas has always had heady plans for the Trinity. Now, there’s nothing around McCommas Bluff but towering trees and an occasional bobcat. It seems as if the River has won out over ambitious plans to tame it here. As we walked over, we passed a towering Burr Oak (Quercos Macrocarpa), with its huge acorns. It really was a majestic tree. We stood on the banks of the Trinity, noticing just how clear the water looks there. There’s nothing but forest there and it really is a beautiful spot. The dirt trails are great. The river is quite peaceful.

Walking over to McCommas Bluff, we were approached by two Hispanic gentlemen on horseback. We stopped and talked to them for a few minutes. They were surrounded by a pack of 5 friendly dogs. They were using the lovely Mexican-style saddles. We chatted about the feral pigs that fill the bottomland and the city’s efforts to trap them. Ben and I both commented on how great it was that different groups of people mix naturally here in this forest. These two men were doing exactly what he and I were doing, enjoying a Saturday off of work and enjoying nature. They wished us well, and road off, dogs trotting contentedly ahead of them.

The Trinity River, which for decades has served as a symbol of racial and economic separation, could stop being a symbol of division. Instead it could be a meeting place. And it really requires very little government intervention. The forest is there to be explored. There are lots of informal trails. Volunteers could easily build and maintain simple low-impact trails.

Already there’s much less of a divide by the river. Saturday evening, my wife, Jill, and I headed from our East Dallas house across the Trinity to have dinner at Nova and a show at the Kessler Theater. We met our friends Lauren and Wes and enjoyed a wonderful show by Bravo Max and Telegraph Canyon. We saw lots of friends that now make their home in Oak Cliff.

Ben and I are already planning another field trip down in the forest. You’ll be pleasantly surprised at this fine trail through the local gem of our forest. I can’t wait to explore further, and this is the perfect time of year to do it.

So here’s where you can do good. The Deep Ellum Urban Garden group needs about $25,000 in order to transform the lot into a garden. They have set the campaign to tilt at $10,000. Yesterday, the campaign was around $4,700. The people at Crowdtilt gave of their own money and did a match campaign. Today, it’s at $6,795. Make yourself feel better, donate a few dollars. And then get your friends to donate a few dollars. See, don’t you feel a little better?

Fun for the Whole Family at Dogwood Canyon
By Bill Holston

Have you noticed that the days are getting longer? I woke up at 5:30 am this Saturday. I became an early riser when my kids were little. One advantage is, even with the city lights, I get to see stars. This Saturday, I walked out on my crispy front “lawn,” to water my 2-year-old Shumard Oak, which is still looking nice and green despite the drought. I looked up and saw the belt of Orion stretched across the southern horizon. I looked straight over head and could just make out the cluster of the Pleiades. This is my favorite constellation. I love the fact that with binoculars you can make out the faint outline of the seven daughters of Atlas (Maia, Electra, Celaeno, Taygeta, Merope, Alcyone, and Sterope…. Girl’s names anyone?) who were transformed into stars. These constellations were once reflected on by the ancient prophets of the Middle East. From the prophet Amos: “He who made the Pleiades and Orion / And changes deep darkness into morning / Who also darkens day into night / Who calls for the waters of the sea / And pours them out on the surface of the earth / The LORD is His name.”

It was an inspiring start to an inspiring day, as this was the grand opening of Dogwood Canyon Audubon Center. I’ve been excited about this center opening for the last several years. David Hurt (owner of Wild Birds Unlimited) and his wife Kim bought land here to build their home. As they explored, they realized this was an extremely special place. In the middle of one of the canyons is a stand of flowering dogwoods (Cornus florida). I took a guided hike to see the flowering dogwoods a few years back and fell in love with these woods. This is a unique spot because it’s the only place in the world where you find eastern species like dogwoods growing in nesting grounds for the endangered Golden Cheeked Warbler, a western species. They have also seen other western species such as Black Capped Vireo and Black Chinned hummingbird. Rather than keep the place to himself, the Hurts began to work with the city of Cedar Hill and the Audubon Society to preserve the land. The result is this fantastic new nature center.

The center sits on more than 200 wooded acres. As a member of North Texas Master Naturalists, I volunteered along with other Master Naturalists to work at the opening. My first job was to greet people at the remote parking lot and direct them to the shuttles for a short ride. The vast majority of people were excited to be out and exploring this lovely spot. There was an occasional grumble that the parking lot wasn’t bigger. Thankfully, most people agree with Joni Mitchell that it’s really not cool to “pave paradise and put up a parking lot.” The minimal imprint on the area is reflected in all of the design and implementation of the center by Audubon. They began with a simple headquarters building. The 6,000-square-foot building was designed by Cunningham Architects (Dallas) and built by General Contractor Tegrus Construction. It features many environmentally friendly touches.

The first thing you notice is a huge cement pit. This was the site of an abandoned communications satellite. Rather pay to have it removed, the designers created a wetland, planted native trees and grasses, and designed the parking lot and building to drain into the space. The center is located in an already disturbed part of the property rather than farther up the canyon. The building juts gently into the topography and serves as an introduction to the woods. The wood used on the exterior is a product called Accoya, a sustainably sourced, durable, pest-resistant softwood pine. The deck in the basin is made of TREX decking, a product made entirely of recycled plastic bags and wood scraps. The center also utilizes other repurposed materials: the gates at the entrance of the center’s parking lot were repurposed from the original gates to the property; the sign is made of the old cattle guards; the pieces of concrete that form the wheel blocks in the parking lot were cut from existing concrete slabs, some present on site, some from another Tegrus worksite; and the surface of the parking lot is made from crushed recycled concrete.

The building contains multiple classrooms and meeting spaces. These will be used for educational programs for school and community groups. In addition, the center will be available for rent for special events. The best spot in the building, though, is the elevated viewing area to watch birds. Feeders were set up, and in just a few minutes we watched a ruby throated hummingbird, a black capped chickadee, and tufted titmouse. The windows in this area are tilted. This feature is intended to reduce bird strikes. It turns out bird watchers don’t enjoy seeing bird carcasses — well, unless they happen to be on a oven-fired pizza. But I digress.

As cool as the building is, the real star of this preserve is the canyon. I took a guided walk up the West Loop Trail. The entire trail is about 1.5 to 2.0 miles and is a great shaded walk. (There’s also a shorter trail in the canyon floor). The trail crosses an intermittent creek and then begins to climb up on the escarpment. Like the Cedar Ridge Preserve, this preserve is located on the White Rock Escarpment of Dallas County and is our version of the Hill Country. As I drove down that morning, I was struck with how unique the drive along 1382 is. If you’ve never driven this, you will be really surprised with just how pretty this area is. The escarpment was created when the soils and rocks were deposited here by a glacier, primarily in the Cretaceous Age (approximately 66 million to 144 million years ago). As ancient seas departed, they left multiple layers of sediment and rock. As the land tilted, it created these hills. Austin Chalk is the exposed white rock that you see in this area, most obviously as you climb the big hill on I-20. The rock is comprised of microscopic skeletons of microorganisms called Coccoliths. The escarpment rises 200 feet from the creek bottoms near Joe Pool Lake to an elevation of as much as 820 feet in Cedar Hill. These hills were originally part of the Ouachita Mountains, which even today stretch into Oklahoma and were once as high as the Himalayas.

There’s an incredible diversity of trees in this forest. My favorite trees here are the Shin Oaks (Quercus sinuata var. breviloba). This is a member of the White Oak Family. It often grows in a quaint cluster of trees. There are also lovely old Bur Oaks, (Quercus macrocarpa the name means large fruit, because of the huge acorns), and Shumard Red Oak (Quercus shumardii), Sugarberry or Hackberry, (Celtis laevigata), Black Walnut, (Juglans nigra, first big tree at trailhead), Pecan (carya illinoinensis), and Cedar Elm (Ulmus crassifolia). These trees are mixed with conifers. I’ve always heard these trees incorrectly referred to in these parts as cedars. We don’t have any true cedar trees in Texas, which live exclusively in the Old World, such as the historic Cedars of Lebanon. These trees are actually junipers. Would a cedar of any other name cause hay fever I wonder?

The fire intolerant Eastern Red Cedar (Juniperus virginiana) was previously controlled by periodic wildfires. Grasses recover quickly from low severity fires that are characteristic of prairies that kept the trees at bay. Our area was once a 12-million-acre blackland prairie. The prairie has mostly disappeared, and as the fires stopped with roads, plowed fields, and other fire breaks, these Junipers and other trees invaded. The other conifer is the Ashe Juniper (Juniperus ashei). The peeling bark is critical for the Golden Cheek Warbler, as nest material. Ashe Junipers are multi-trunked, with a leathery, peeling bark.

As I climbed up onto the top to the escarpment, I noticed quite a few smaller trees and shrubs. These will produce lovely blooms in the spring: Mexican Plum (Prunus Mexicana), Eve’s Necklace (Sophora affinis), Possum Haw Holly (Ilex deciduas, our native holly), Texas Redbud (Cercis canadensis var. texensis), and Rusty Blackhaw (Viburnum rufidulum ). The other dominant tree is the Mexican Buckeye (Ungnadia speciosa). I love this tree because of the pods of seeds that cover the plants. They seem to favor the top of the escarpment in this area. This will be a beautiful spot in the spring. The area around the intermittent stream, for instance, is covered with trout lilies, which will be among the earliest wildflowers to bloom in the area, in February.

Just before the trail reaches the top of the escarpment (about a 300-foot climb), it branches to create a loop hike. The hike has been carefully laid out to take advantage of several prominent overlooks. The first overlook has an expansive view. You can even see Cowboy Stadium. Although I have to say, for me, this is no advantage. I’d rather look at the expanses of woods that surround the entire area. We’re lucky that the early settlers of this area didn’t clear-cut this forest. My favorite spot of the whole hike is at the farthest point of the loop. There you can sit and hear absolutely nothing except the bird song. One of my fellow hikers identified the song of a White Eyed Vireo. You have a real sense of remoteness at this point.

Among my fellow hikers was Assistant City Manager Greg Porter and his wife, Pam. I had a great talk with Pam as we hiked. Their young son Josh was the star of the hike. He’s a 6-year-old budding naturalist. He enthusiastically talked about tarantulas and snakes. He answered questions and was just bubbling over with enthusiasm for nature. If there’s anything that illustrates why areas like this are so critical to preserve, it’s this young man. His mom raved about how great the center had been for nurturing his interest in the environment. As we hiked, I struck up conversations with several people new to the area. Everyone was in awe with just how beautiful the canyon was. Several shared my fatigue at hearing that “There’s nothing to do here in the Dallas area.” More than one person commented, “Yeah there is. You just have to get out and see it.”

I finished the day manning a water station on the side of the hill. I ran into several members of my 2011 Master Naturalist Class, either volunteering or just enjoying the hike. I sat on benches that had been constructed as an Eagle Scout project. I drank water and listened to the breeze in the Cedar Elms and Shin Oaks that surrounded us and looking out over one of the overlooks at the wooded canyon below us. I was struck by how diverse the crowd was. The bookend to young naturalist Josh was an older gentleman. He appeared to be in his 70s, wearing an old, weathered hat. His daughter said, “He won’t tell you, but he’s done a lot in his life.” He was a friend of Ned Fritz, the grandfather of Dallas master naturalists, and had been involved in protecting Guadalupe Mountains National Park and laying out the trails there. We shared stories of the Bigtooth Maples that fill the canyons there, and he told me about lying up on the roof of the Pratt Cabin with Ned Fritz, listening to the wind.

I thought about the fact that this hike was filled with 70-year-old adventurers and 6-year-old budding naturalists. Some of the newest naturalists were the babies and toddlers carried on the backs of moms and dads, hiking into these magnificent woods. It reminded me of the countless hours I spent hiking with my boys when they were younger. My son Fred said it all came back to him on a recent trip to Portland, Oregon, as he hiked through a rain forest to have a campfire on the Pacific. If you are a young parent, there’s hardly anything you can do that is as valuable as exposing your young ones to a walk in the woods. Okay, good nutrition, and reading, and vaccinations. Okay, there’s a lot of things.

The crowd was racially diverse, as well. An older Asian couple shared my bench with me and we talked about how pretty this spot was, enjoying the breeze. I detected accents from Germany, Mexico, and South Africa. It was a great reflection of generations, races, and nationalities all together, enjoying this beautiful park. It was completely inspiring.

Nick Kristoff in a recent New York Times column wrote: “Particularly in traumatic times like these, nature challenges us, revitalizes us, humbles us, exhilarates us, and restores our souls. It reminds us that we are part of a larger universe, stewards rather than masters of our world.”

That’s good for me. Like most lawyers, I’m a cynic. It seems I’ve spent 30 years dealing with the worst that people can do. My pro bono work has exposed me to hearing stories of torturers. It weighs on my view of mankind. So it’s really good for my soul to spend time in the woods. It’s great to meet young people excited to explore nature and older people still learning into their 80s. It’s especially good to be around the wonderful staff of Audubon, people like volunteer coordinator Dana Wilson, who greeted me with a hug. I’m glad there’s a place where an old cynic like me can sit on a bench in the shade of a cedar elm, and catch a breeze and regain a sense of hope for the future. We could all use a little of that, I think.