Sep 30, 2022
A Love Letter to the New Jersey Pine Barrens
Alyssa Oshiro is the internal communications director at the National Wildlife Federation.
I told my husband I was going to write a love letter to the Pine Barrens, and he immediately recommended a book. “It will give you tons of historic context and anecdotes,” he said excitedly. “You will learn a lot. It will help!”
He has clearly never written a love letter before.
This love letter won’t be about the rich history and interesting biology of the Pine Barrens. For me, this love letter is about the soothing sound the Mullica River makes as it rushes beneath the pier on my in-laws’ dock. It’s the slow sweet sunburn tingle that creeps on my shoulders as I recline on my husband’s dingy in the sun. It’s the suspense as my six-year-old casts his rod baited with nightcrawlers into the river and waits; the shrieks of joy when he gets a bite; his excited face I capture with a photo when he pulls in yet another catfish.
This Love Letter is about how river that raised the love of my life brought me to my current-day happiness.
When I was a kid, my uncle and aunt lived a waterfront property in Anne Arundel County, MD. My dad, my brother, and I would accompany my uncles on fishing and crabbing trips, bringing back more memories than bounty, and more smiles than “keepers.” My mom took my two siblings and three cousins and me to state parks to while away long summer days, letting the dogs splash into the Gunpowder River, as we caught crawfish and tadpoles and sunfish to release them a few hours later. We subscribed to Ranger Rick and Boys Life Magazine. We studied the Audubon field guides to birds, fish, reptiles, and amphibians to identify every species we came across.
After living in the city of Philadelphia for several years after college, I hadn’t been in touch with my inner wildlife and science nerd for a long time. I met Adam, and he told me about his growing up in Sweetwater in south Jersey, and somewhere deep in my psyche, the comforting memories of fishing, crabbing, hiking, and picnicking outdoors came rushing back. The first time Adam took me on his tiny boat I soaked up every moment. He knew the depth and the curvature of the water like the back of his hand. He spouted off facts about cedar, about wildlife, about every childhood adventure that shaped him and his connection to the protected Pine Barrens.
Over the years, I’ve fallen in love with the man and the river that raised him.
I’ve eaten wild pheasant and blue crab and catfish bites — caught and consumed sometimes steps apart. I’ve swung out on a rope and kayaked to an island. I’ve peed outdoors — that’s a big deal for a city slicker like myself!
I saw a job posting at the National Wildlife Federation in July 2021 and thought, “wow — I want to work there.” Now, I get to spend my workweek connecting and inspiring hundreds of people who work to ensure that wildlife thrive in a changing world. I get to support the people who do the hard work of advocating for change in Washington, who plant native plants in sacred ground, who create spaces for children to connect with the outdoors, who fight racial injustice, who restore bison to their ancestral land. I get to spend my workdays supporting those working to preserve the wilderness for my sons to experience as they get older and learn about life.
I get to spend my nights and weekends listening to the sighing sound as the river, unchanging but always rushing, eases past the dock. I rock the baby, watch the inky sunset, listen to the river, as I say, “shhhh, shhhh, shhhh. I love you.”
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We’d love to hear about the public lands you love. If you’re interested in writing a love note, please email us at OurPublicLands@nwf.org for guidelines.
