Vecinos del Bosque
Neighborhood Association
Rediscovery on the Río Grande
By Jane Mahoney
Member, Vecinos del Bosque Neighborhood Association
Isn't is strange that after 20 years, I'm finally discovering the river
flowing practically through my backyard? The Río Grande. The big river.
Waterway of countless western novels and lifeblood of the arid
Southwest. Today I'm visiting the Alburquerque Botanic Garden and can't
help but notice the soft, green glow of new cottonwood leaves
fluttering enticingly just across the fence in the bosque.
It's my third visit to the river's environs in as many days, unusual
considering that I'm lucky to get here even 10 times during the course
of an ordinary year.
The Río Grande is not a complete stranger to me, of course, but it is
little more than a pleasant acquaintance. I've walked alongside the
river, waded in it, and tossed sticks and stones off its banks. Its
muddy irrigation waters keep my grass green and bring deep pink
blossoms to my crabapple tree every spring. Our soaring cottonwoods
soak up water from the aquifer, and almost daily I walk the irrigation
ditches it feeds. Now we have an even better reason to become
acquainted.
Early this morning I walked the levy road along the west side of the
river with new interest. My neighborhood association— Vecinos del
Bosque, or the neighbors of the bosque— has "adopted" a 10-acre swath
of bosque, part of the Río Grande State Park, a cottonwood forest that
grows alongside the Río Grande. I've long thought this urban forest was
not only Alburquerque's best-kept secret but also one of its greatest
assets.
Recently, about 15 neighborhood residents gathered at the river's edge,
posting a sign that proclaimed our helpful intentions for this
particular patch of ground. We will join about 25 other groups
representing neighborhoods, churches, schools and other organizations
that have adopted similar acreage in the bosque. Our vow is to be the
"eyes and ears" for the understaffed city's Open Space Division, and to
pitch in on annual work projects ranging from wood removal to building
trails.
Truth be told, at first glance I saw mostly devastation along the banks
of this fabled waterway. Trying to stay ahead of the drought-sparked
fires of last summer, myriad governmental powers are working feverishly
to clear the bosque of its deadwood and fuel-laden underbrush. Huge
machines have moved in, snapping like toothpicks the salt cedars,
Russian olives, Siberian elms and other growing intruders. Scarred
cottonwoods reach skyward like war survivors on a bedding of mulch
mashed flat by machinery and so thick as to make walking difficult.
"Close to clear cutting," moaned a neighbor who hails from the forests of Oregon.
"This is the first, rough run-through," says Jodi Hedderig, the acting
volunteer coordinator at the Open Space Division. "A hand crew will be
back through."
The task of our neighborhood association— clearing this tangle of
downed lumber, sliced saplings and accumulated trash— seems immense,
impossible really. We know it's a project we can measure in years, not
months.
But there is excitement in the air, the unspoken possibilities that we're at the threshold of a worthy project.
I will come to know this river slowly, I think. But already, over three
mornings, I've changed my walk route to become acquainted with some of
its creatures. A lone coyote took my breath away as he loped along the
conservancy ditch before veering into the bosque. Mallards launched
skyward from the ditch as my footsteps crunched near.
Still, there are countless bird calls and rustlings in the brush that
pique my curiosity and stir my imagination. This river has a lot to
teach me.
Jane
Mahoney is a member of the Vecinos del Bosque Neighborhood Association.
Bosque on the west side of the river along Sunset Road. Bosque
adoptions are open to groups (of 10 or more) such as neighborhood
associations, schools, youth groups, churches and nonprofits. Contact
the city's Parks and Recreation Department, Open Space Division, at
452-5200.
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