Are those sweet potatoes?” I half-jokingly ask my husband, as I point to the hundreds of vaguely hairy, tuber-like knobs jutting up under the trees in Calvert County’s Battle Creek Cypress Swamp Sanctuary.
I know the knobs aren’t really tubers, of course. They’re actually the roots of the bald cypress trees that populate the swamp, one of the northernmost stands of bald cypress trees on the East Coast. Properly called “knees,” the roots contribute to the otherworldliness of this arrestingly beautiful park, creating an atmosphere that’s surreal and just a bit spooky.
Slashes of sunlight sneak in through the trees punctuating the dim, green atmosphere. Vines encased in brownish fuzz grow up from the floor, and there’s a bewitching quiet and stillness. It’s so quiet it makes me want to tiptoe and whisper as we meander along the boardwalk through the shade.
We take our time, listening to birds we can’t see, spying small rivulets of water—portions of Battle Creek that ebb and flow according to the season—that run over the ground. Placards tell us that “swamps are wetlands with trees” and that “bald cypress are conifers [trees with cones and needles] related to redwoods.” Most of the trees on this trail are 75 to 100 years old, but cypress trees have been documented at 1,000 years old. Their presence helps control runoff and protects the Bay. They also keep the swamp smelling fresh and piney, not rank or rotting, like I expected.
I scan the trees for evidence of birds’ nests—like the sack-like structure of the Baltimore Oriole or the woven home of the tiny chipping sparrow—which I saw on display in the sanctuary’s nature center (definitely worth a stop). Turtles, snakes, frogs, muskrats, deer, and barred owls also call the swamp home, as did a rogue bobcat, which was last spotted in 1945. If there’s a chance of seeing another, I’m primed.
Acquired by the Nature Conservancy in 1957 and located just off of Route 4, near Prince Frederick, Battle Creek Cypress Swamp Sanctuary is the smallest of Calvert County’s three nature parks. Measuring in at a tidy 100 acres, it’s not even half the size of the 260-acre King’s Landing Park to the north or the generous 545 acres of Flag Ponds Nature Park to the south. Each park has its own personality, however, and I’m taking an afternoon or two to discover the charms of each.
From Battle Creek, we drive north to King’s Landing Park, which borders the Patuxent River. If Battle Creek lives up to its name as a sanctuary, King’s Landing Park speaks to its history as a former farm and YMCA camp. It’s full of activity. There’s a riding ring for budding equestrians and a swimming pool with tubular slides that my inner kid is itching to try, a fishing pier, and even an orienteering course. We decide to park by a cluster of picnic tables under evergreens and set out to explore the several miles of footpaths that run through the park.
In the middle of one tree-lined path, I see my husband stop dead in his tracks ahead of me and look curiously at an oak leaf that seems to be hanging in midair. I catch up and we move closer for inspection. The leaf is in front of our noses before we see the thin filament of a spider web holding it in place. We walk a little farther along the Marsh Trail, skirting the Cocktown Creek, and stand silently to hear the white noise: the buzz of insects, a snort or two made by something we can’t identify, squirrels braying, the caw of a crow.
We circle back and take another path that drops us down to a small shoreline at the river’s edge. The Patuxent is wide here, and we see groves of trees, the towers of Chalk Point Power Plant on the horizon, and a great blue heron keeping its distance. A woman tosses a stick to her Chesapeake Bay Retriever, who ignores it in favor of what turns out to be a sizeable deer bone. The dog, who we learn is named Chessie, lopes on the narrow strip of sand (no swimming here) before running into the water to bark at a group of canoeists approaching from around a bend. “It’s so beautiful,” says the woman. “I just like to hear the birds in the trees and the quiet and the leaves and the trees and the branches talking to each other.” We nod our heads in agreement before walking back up the trail, past a meadow dotted with bluebird boxes, to our car.
Although you could visit all three nature parks in one day—they are less than 20 miles apart—we decide to visit Flag Ponds Nature Park another afternoon. This park hugs the Chesapeake Bay shoreline 10 miles south of Prince Frederick and feels like many parks in one. It has a swimming beach, wooded trails, a fishing pier, and a historic fishermen’s shanty, aka, “The Buoy Hotel,” a reminder of when a pound net fishery occupied the land between 1900 and 1955. But most folks know Flag Ponds best for the fossils that draw intrepid hunters to scour a stretch of rocky beach.
On a warm afternoon, my husband and I walk down a wooded path toward the beach and fishing pier with several families toting beach chairs and small children. While my husband walks the beach, I ditch my shorts and shoes and wade up to my thighs in my bathing suit, sand squishing between my toes with each step.
Nearby, a little girl scoops wet sand into a pink plastic bucket as a small terrier loops around her. I catch up with my husband again and wrestle shoes onto my wet, sandy feet because the next portion of beach— blindingly white with stones and shells (and maybe sharks’ teeth?) in the rich afternoon sun—is not so easy on the feet. We scour the beach, scooping up handfuls of sand and stones (while simultaneously counting herons), but we don’t find a fossil. Still, we think, a day spent in nature is a reward in itself. And as we turn to leave along the wooded path, we find ourselves taking the leisurely route back to the car.
Masthead Photo by