It’d been a hell of a few weeks for me and unfortunately, I think my chaos gremlin followed me to Rhode Island on this particular week because my usual travel companion wasn’t having an easy go of it either. We both needed desperately to get out of the house but lacked the energy to actually do so. A compromise was made – to stay in town and go back to a destination we’d already been to before – a destination I remember taking photos of but for some reason cannot find said photos or blog entry?? Shame because I took very few photos this time around thinking I already had plenty!
Prescott Farm is the site of a historic farmstead and gristmill. It has one of very few surviving windmills in here in the US built in the early 1800s and there are several other historic buildings also on the property you can poke at. And “gardens,” lots of “gardens” which appear to be wildly out of control fenced in weeds… which I guess are mostly native and probably were used at some point by locals but I definitely saw some things in there that clearly blew in from somewhere else. A vegetable garden this was not. Although I did find a patch of choke cherry trees along the perimeter. SOMEDAY. Someday I’ll have land and chokecherry trees of my own with which to make jam with.
The location is known for its little duck pond where a gaggle of them wait to be fed. We however were here to check out the hiking trails first so off we went past the old homestead, the historic markers, and the windmill, into the woods! The woods were a well needed respite from the heat. Despite the fact that today was hotter and muggier than a teenage Shrek’s jock strap (sorry) the woods were cool and refreshing! And pretty! We found a bunch of little fairy houses that someone had left at random trees and then I spotted a really fat deer – the first one I’ve seen on island in all my visits here! And just beyond the deer we came across a weird bird sitting at the edge of the water just chilling, giving no mind to us whatsoever. My companion thought it was a hawk because of its coloration and short stubby shape, I thought it was a blue heron because of its beak. Drawing closer to it I realized it wasn’t nearly big enough to be a heron and its beak definitely wasn’t that of a hawk. We were both bewildered by the animal who still didn’t care we were staring at it like leering predators. We’d only later learn its identity by posting photos on FaceBook – it was a night heron. I have never heard of such a thing and am growing increasingly concerned I might be wandering ever closer to becoming a birder, the horror. This goes doubly for my companion who thought he heard an owl. This resulted in us both stalking a mourning dove to the chimney of the farmhouse. To be fair the “mourning” sound of mourning doves does sound a bit owl-like.
The trails were very short and sweet and at times a little messy but it was cute and I was happy to have seen some wildlife. We were however about to approach the famous duckpond. Ooooooph, it was very choked in out in weeds, I don’t think they were native either. However, the ducks still persisted, as did frogs, baby turtles, pond skimmers, diving beetles, and a fantastic orgy of every kind of dragon fly you could think of just finding their love match. It was kind of funny. The ducks showed interest in us only as long as it took to figure out our sorry asses didn’t have any food for them and then they wandered off crankily quaking at each other.
This was a nice little diversion – just the amount of green and activity I needed to get back onto a path of a well-regulated nervous system. So, if you’re in town maybe check it out. It’s rather cute, child friendly, and has a little history. Also, the windmill is nice to take photos of.
