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Forever Wild: Notes from an Adirondack Camp

August 18, 2013

Vickery Eckhoff

An old postcard of my forever wild place

The wild turkey walked down the slope behind our house this morning, right up to the kitchen windows, and peered in. I first noted him while lying in bed, staring out the back window of our camp on Tongue Mountain from the second floor, warm under an ancient wool blanket and wondering what I might glimpse in the woods at that hour. I was looking for signs of wildlife and the turkey appeared to be doing the same.

I’d been rewarded on the Fourth of July with a glimpse of my first bald eagle flying past our front porch overlooking Lake George. Bald eagles had built a nest in Deer Leap further north of our place on Tongue Mountain point, I’d been told years earlier. But I had yet to see one. I’d heard, too, of a return of bob cats and even mountain lions. I wanted to see those, as well as moose, of which there had been several sightings.

Strangely, I’d discovered that Tongue Mountain was a favorite of deer hunters, without ever once seeing a deer at camp. Raccoons fed off the corn cobs we tossed under the trees; chipmunks, squirrels, muskrats; crows, seagulls, swallows, and hummingbirds.

I’d seen my first bear cub in the fall—all critters you could see in the suburbs near New York City, where I live. But there was something different about seeing them here.

Here, there are no roads. There is occasional boat traffic. There are a few other camps like ours, but where our property ends, and it does not extend far, the land is forever wild.

I don’t know what my great grandfather had in mind when he bought this place and built our cottage in 1904. Photographs from that time show the mountain was nothing but stumps, the lake brown from run-off caused by over logging. Somehow, he envisioned an escape from the paint and varnish business. He’d founded the Brooklyn Paint and Varnish Company; traveled the West, collecting rugs and objects from Indian reservations and somehow found this property, bought it, and built the camp. He named it Tongue Eyrie.

The materials were hauled across the frozen lake in winter by a team of horses. The furnishings came from a Sears catalogue and his guests, judging by photos, were mostly chorus girls. He built a small cottage off to the side for his servants, Max and Emma. He brought over a piano, long since gone.

Two weeks ago, I swam the small bay next to our dock. I went to check out what looked to be a muskrat swimming in the water, but was really just a fallen tree sticking out of the water, and examined a large rock with six map turtles sunning themselves. I met three mergansers that had stopped by the island where my great-grandfather built a gazebo and, to access it, a small stone arched footbridge that had since fallen into the water and had been reformed by tree roots into a natural bridge between the island and the shore.

As I sat high on the rocks, I noticed two kayakers in the bay and asked them, when they were close to shore, to not disturb the turtles. They said they were only in the bay, picking up garbage blown or tossed overboard by boaters who anchor there on hot summer days. I invited them up for a visit. What I heard during our hour-long conversation cheered me.

They’d been camping on Lake George for decades, and traveled the U.S. as well. The waters of Lake George, they said, were unsurpassed in terms of clarity. You could see the rocks deep down, but in other noted lakes, you couldn’t see the bottom. There was too much sediment in the water, or invasive plant growth, or species like Zebra mussels.

They went on to tell me of watching a rattlesnake eating a chipmunk on a recent hike. The subject of rattlers always came up when discussing Tongue Mountain. The dens were down the mountain from our house and I’d seen maybe 15 in my life, mostly on the path to the house, in several woodpiles, and one under our gazebo (and long since removed by a local biologist), just feet from where I sunned on the rocks with guests and small children.

I’d since, though, stopped being afraid of them, as I had been of the many spiders that lived in our house. I knew they were doing their part; the spiders ate the mosquitos and other bugs. The snakes ate the mice.

My two visitors who arrived by kayak told me  of a hiker that had recently been reported for shooting rattlers he found along the Tongue Mountain trail—using a revolver.

Isn’t the purpose of forever wild to walk softly, at most to carry a stick—and nothing but a stick? Frankly, I prefer a rattler than that alternative.


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  1. August 18, 2013

    Great post!
    Relocation of every inadvertent intruder is the best way. I relocate species I find back to the outdoors quickly, no matter what species it is. You have devise ways to trap and then release back outdoors quickly.
    All are in indoors by error or mistake. No species deliberately encounters humans or wants to be in close quarters with human beings.
    All species are frightened of humans and for good reason. Many humans tend toward violence quickly. No other species chooses violence immediately except humans.
    All species serve a purpose, no matter the species. Many humans don’t comprehend this basic fact. It seems that many human beings lack experience from direct observation or the comprehension necessary to see natural functions as beneficial.
    The example of killing snakes with the use of a firearm is bizarre. Not only is this another example of completely irrational human behavior but is dangerous to any human being in the area. This kind of behavior needs to be reported to any local law enforcement.
    Discharging firearms for no reason is a danger to the local community. People under the influence use guns. Everybody is in danger. Hunters with experience know laws and don’t engage in this kind of idiot behavior.
    Law enforcement wants to know about the irresponsible use of firearms. If this involves a public area, contacting any enforcement is a very good idea. In addition, I have found that local law enforcement wants to know about incidents of harassment or abuse or torture of any species.
    Ohio has many reports of this freakish behavior and invariably these reports will prove that some are a danger to the entire community.
    Ohio residents are working on enforcement so that these people can be stopped before they escalate to the same behavior toward innocent human beings.
    Domestic violence is directly linked to violence against other species. Humane law and rapid enforcement protects everyone, especially children.
    Many human beings need education on the natural world in order to live responsible lives. Without that, they will continue to violate everyone’s lives. Respect is simply missing. I would assume this is due to a complete lack of self-respect and a lack of a basic understanding of consequences of behavior.
    That is what I don’t understand and can’t explain. I have wondered about that for years.

  2. Alison Safförd #
    March 20, 2020

    Is anyone in your family named Roy? I have a letter to my great aunt from someone named Roy on Tongue Eyrie letter head. It was such an odd name (Tongue Eyrie) that I had to look it up.

    • March 20, 2020

      HI Alison,

      Yes. That would be my grandfather! I would love to see that letter!! How can I reach you offline? You can email me at

      Thanks so much for writing.

      VIckery Eckhoff

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