Bill Richards Memorial Park

Hey guys, welcome back! Unfortunately, this weeks article is very upsetting for me to write. Today after work I decided to run out for a quick birding trip to Bill Richards Memorial park in Hauppauge, NY. I had visited this spot quite a few times in the past, but I had not visited in over a year.

When I pulled into the parking lot I was alone except for one other car that was pulling out as I parked. The lot is very well kept and could hold upwards of one dozen cars however a sign is posted stating that parking is for Smithtown residents only and a sticker is required. Not planning on staying very long I decided to take my chances as there really is no other alternative nearby. There is a long list of things that are not allowed posted before you begin the trail; dogs, horseback riding, skateboards, etc., which to be honest, sets things off negatively for me. Don’t get me wrong, rules are important and I happen to agree with all of the ones listed (except for the residents only part) but I also think it is important to be aware of the welcome you are giving people. The entrance to the park is actually quite lovely, a small wooden bridge over a tiny stream leading into a wall of bright green trees and shrubs; right in the center of which is a bright white warning sign of all the things not to do, doesn’t make for a great photo. In an era of “it’s not good unless it costs money” and “it’s not entertainment unless it has a power cord and remote control,” we should be making things like parks welcoming and easy, not fussy and reprimanding, but I digress. The beginning of the trail is lovely, picturesque and quiet, doing a very good job of making you feel like you are not right off of a major highway. After only a very short distance you arrive at a forked entrance to the park itself. The first fork leads to a picnic area with flat grass and 3-4 picnic tables enclosed in the shade of a circle of towering trees. The second branch of the fork leads to the “lake”.

When I walked out of the shelter of the trees and back out into the sunlight I anticipatorily shielded my eyes from the expected reflection off the water. The last time I had been here, the lake was breathtaking and teaming with waterfowl, a groomed trail led around its perimeter and far in the distance the lake meandered into a stream leading out of the park inaccessible by any other means then viewing from afar. It was truly a hidden gem, usually quiet except for the occasional hiker or fellow birder. Today, sadly, that picture in my mind was nowhere to be found. The lake had turned to little more than a large mud slick dotted with trash and beer bottles, there was no shimmering stream, a large section of trees had been chopped down exposing passing cars on the road and the trails had been covered over. I wanted to cry, to run back to the sign out front to be sure I wasn’t at the wrong place. But I knew the bridges, the picturesquely placed benches, and long forgotten resthouse. All that remained of that beautiful park was this… shadow of what it had once been.

Honestly, my first reaction was to turn and leave. After a few minutes of sad reflection I thought better of my decision and decided to explore what I could none the less, after all, there were still trees, and plants, mud and wide open space so birds were probably still hanging around. I decided to try my luck around the left side of the former lake first, despite the missing trail. After a few yards I realized this was not a great plan, the ground was very soft and thick with woodchips from the leveled trees making walking rather precarious. A pair of Blue Jays flitted about the few trees along the mud and a female Northern Cardinal hopped about the woodchips. About a dozen American Robins dotted the ground, hunting worms and basking in the sunshine. Turning back towards the head of the park, figuring I would try out the opposite side instead, a pair of Red-Bellied Woodpeckers chased each other about playfully, racing up and down the trunk of a nearby tree.

Heading up the right side of the former lake the ground was a bit more stable and there were some remnants of a trail. Gray Catbirds seemed to be all around me by the dozens; Singing out from all directions. I eyed the massive mud hole, straining to see if anything was searching the lake floor for worms and bugs. A small group of Mallard Ducks meandered through a thin crack in the earth with a few inches of water, all the water that remained. From afar, the tiny streams seemed to cascade like veins over the surface of the muddy earth, trickling with shallow water and petering out into nothing once more. A short distance later and the trail came to an abrupt stop, ending in thick mud and an uprooted tree. Disappointed once more I turned back, finding a dry area to sit and wait for something to hopefully fly by. Only a few moments after settling in, a small grey Eastern Pheobe landed beside me, looking out at the same view assumedly wondering what I was doing or better yet, what was I looking at? A handful of swallows raced over the open patch of earth in their normal frantic manner, zipping and diving and putting on a show. Unidentifiable at the moment, all I could tell for certain was that they were not the Tree nor Barn swallows I had grown accustomed to seeing. Darting through the open sunshine they appeared warm colored, with stark white bellies. Later I would discover, after enlarging my photos on the computer, they were actually a new Life Bird for me! Cliff Swallows! I sat a while longer, hopeful, but seeing little more than the occasional bumblebee and dragonfly. Then, across the park, atop the tallest treetops, a ruckus erupted and a Hawk circled frantically, driving songbird from their nests to defend their babies and crows alit to the sky to ward him off. A beautiful Coopers Hawk, yet another lifer for me, glided across the sky, only for a moment, and the disappeared as quickly as he had come.

After sitting a while longer, and beginning to feel confident that I had seen all this spot was going to show me, I gathered my things and resumed my hike, heading back along the dried lake towards the entrance. A small tree ahead of me echoed through the park with the songs of nearly a dozen songbirds, all singing out at once. Approaching slowly, for fear of frightening them away, I was able to get close enough to spot one, then another and another, Tufted Titmice. I soon realized that I was at little risk of frightening them away, as they did not seem to care much at all about my presence; Flitting down to lower branches to get a better look at me. It seemed that they were just as curious as I was. All of a sudden an unusual bird descended to the mud. I could tell immediately that it was some sort of shorebird, thinking instantly that it was one of the plovers. But it was so far out that I could not get a clear look. Not having a heaping amount of shorebirds on my life list so far to brag of, I decided it was time for another wait. After about 30 minutes of cooking in the hot sun, staring at a distant white dot in the center of a mud pit, the bird finally moved closer. A beautiful Killdeer stood before me, calling out into the open air and watching my every move. Large, deep-voiced frogs croaked from below the wet earth, their golden eyes the only visible sign of their existence. I took one long last look around, impressed with the variety I had managed to find in a spot I swore was going to be a loss, but still so sad at the sight of a place that had once been so special to me. Along the trail back to the car a Northern Cardinal glowed from the depths of the woods.

I suppose change is a part of life. Things are always changing, growing, evolving; but it is still a hard truth to expect. I would like to think that maybe this change will be for the best, perhaps there was a reason for the lake being dried up that I was unaware of, perhaps next year I will visit again and it will be the shimmering crystal lake I remember from my memories. However, speaking now more as the jaded adult I have sadly become at times, there cannot be a good reason for leveling trees and rubbing out hiking trails. These places are so important now, in a time when the walls of concrete seem to be closing in all around us and the chirp of crickets has been replaced by the hum of expressways. I suppose the worst part of all is the lack of outrage, there was no one up in arms on social media crying out about a local gem being tossed away, no local news stories, no picketers tying themselves to trees in protest, what was there? a few dozen beer cans and bottles tossed into the mud and a scattering of plastic bags and wrappers tangled throughout the grasses. The birds will move on to Blydenburg Park no doubt, it sits only a few feet beyond the property line, the frogs will stay for a while then move on as well, I hate to think what happened to all the fish I watched people angling for years ago; the point is that life goes on and the world keeps turning, but for how long. If this is what is allowed to happen to these purest areas of our communities then for how many more years are there going to be another park for the people to go hike in, another small forest for the birds to move to? It is up to us to see these places kept respected and important. Friends, get out there and enjoy the amazing nature we have around us, get people excited about being outside, and please do your part to keep our parks and natural areas clean and healthy. Until next time my friends, Happy Birding!

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