The bulldozers are getting closer. For two decades, development of a four-lane highway loop around Lawrence, Kansas, has been clos- ing in on the place where I take my
lunchtime walks and look for birds
in the morning and evening. Now
the public-comment periods have
expired, the environmental impact
statements have been written, and
the permits have been issued. Soon
four elevated lanes of speeding cars
and noisy trucks may divide the
Wakarusa Wetlands.
The sluggish creek where beavers
make their dams will be filled in.
The boardwalk across a marsh that’s
a particularly good place to see
winter sparrows will be paved over.
The ragged stand of cottonwoods
where spring warblers stop to rest
will be cut down. The cattail marsh
from which the whistles and chirps
of song sparrows compete with the
squawks of herons and egrets will
roar with the sound of traffic speed-
ing between Topeka and Kansas
City. The wet prairie over which
short-eared owls fly in low undulat-
ing circuits will be slashed by trucks
at highway speeds. The vista across
a mile of wetland and marsh to the
valley of the Wakarusa River will be
blocked by a raised roadway.
