Nature Recolonizes County Grounds Basins

Welcome to Wild Wauwatosa, a column for lovers of nature.

Allow me to introduce myself. I explore familiar places, trying to discover new ways of seeing them. I believe in nature that I can touch, that is muddy, prickly, cold. I believe also in nature that I cannot touch; clouds, microbes, the ever vigilant and wary great blue heron.

I believe in miracles and in the importance of seeing them first hand: the full moon rising, the killdeer nesting along the river, a sycamore dripping with monarch butterflies. I like to make photographs, to tell stories, and I believe that sharing them makes them real. In this column, I plan to share my discoveries in Wild Wauwatosa. I invite you to join me.

Springtime is synonymous with new beginnings, and therefore it is fitting to begin this new column in spring. If the recent resurgence of wintry temperatures has dashed your optimism, left you wondering if spring will ever arrive, you may be forgiven. But a walk in Wauwatosa’s County Grounds proved to me that hope remains.

Two huge flood detention basins were excavated here several years ago, but this massive project isn't finished yet. The Milwaukee Metropolitan Sewerage District is still installing the plumbing.

But that hasn't stopped wild things from re-establishing their hold out here. Nature does not wait on contract closings and ribbon-cuttings. It signs its own lease and sets up housekeeping anywhere we leave an opening.

Out in the flat wetland bottoms of the flood basins, icy patches remain, but most of the snow has disappeared. The landscape is a monochromatic tapestry of ocher and brown. The leafless trees stand stark against the skyline, gray and black. It doesn’t look much like spring.

Once I walk away from the noisy traffic on Swan Boulevard, however, the sounds of nature restore my confidence. Melodious bird song fills the air. Redwing blackbirds have established their annual territories, clinging to the tops of cattails, chirping at rivals. Other less visible birds flicker amongst last year’s reeds.

I stare at the barren land, see winter, then I close my eyes and hear spring. It is a good beginning.