By Phil Odence
I was just old enough to read and inquire about the somewhat crude sign that, among other restrictions, instructed, “No Fishing.”
With poles in hand, my uncle and I strode right past. He explained that we had permission from Otis Barton. Uncle Gates swooped in only every few years from Korea but certainly knew his way around Cotuit and remained a well-known character. Although my father took me fishing plenty, often with my grandfather, he was the sailing brother while Gates was renowned for his fishing enthusiasm and skill. He quite enjoyed taking me along as his sidekick. I wasn’t completely comfortable but figured permission or not, my uncle was more than capable of talking us out of any trouble. Actually, I’m sure he knew Mr. Barton although I don’t think I ever met the man.
Frederick Otis Barton, Jr. was a super-interesting Cotuit character, a marine scientist who, along with a guy called William Beebe, is credited with developing the Bathysphere, a sort of submarine, used for deep sea exploration. Born in 1899 to a wealthy family, Barton spent summers in the Little River part of Cotuit. In his teens, he experimented with a homemade diving helmet exploring the harbor floor. Evidently, the two also tested early Bathysphere prototypes in Cotuit Harbor before setting a depth record in 1930 with a dive off Bermuda.
Barton owned Eagle Pond and the lands around it from 1952 until 1980. He would have been in his sixties, about my current age, when we fished the pond. The property had been transferred to Barton from his brother Francis and his aunt Ellen Coolidge. The deed included a number of restrictions designed to protect the pond from development. The entire parcel, almost a mile along one of its triangular sides, was consolidated after the Civil War by Augustus Thorndike Perkins from pieces owned by Colemans, Lovells and other old Cotuit families.
It is a classic kettle pond, one of many on Cape Cod. They were all formed by retreating glaciers during the Ice Ages, which left large standing hunks of ice in their wake. Runoff from glacial deposits along the north edge of the Cape carrying solid material and flowing around remaining ice, which built up over time. Ultimately the ice chunks melted and left water-filled “kettles.”
Many of these silted in over time and formed cedar swamps like the nearby Almy Swamp. This and other such groves provided valuable cedar for shipbuilding. Many, though, were spring fed and thus remain as ponds – this being one of the most beautiful.
My recollection is that Eagle Pond was much less of a thing in those days. Not a secret exactly but a rare destination. So, we encountered no one else on our fishing excursions. The paths around the eight-acre pond were not so different from today but with the interesting addition of hand-lettered signs naming various points of interest and areas. The one any youngster would recall best is Barton’s Enchanted Forest. He must have been quite a character. Evidently, he’d scaled a dozen or maybe twenty trees, nailing cheapo plastic Halloween masks to the skinny trunks about 30 feet up, and thus providing the enchantment.
We probably parked in the old pull off, about a quarter mile south of the current, much more obvious, parking area. We fished the southwest corner of the pond, casting spinners from a stout log “pier” that extended twenty feet from shore. This downed tree remained there for decades and was always our fishing spot. We were quite successful that day reeling in ten- and twelve-inch bass with enough frequency to keep me interested. The last time I remember fishing there, years later, included my young cousins. Gates tirelessly baited the hooks and unhooked their catches. I don’t think I ever fished Eagle Pond without him.
In 1980, a group of Cotuit families pooled funds and negotiated with Otis Barton, who never married and had no heirs, to buy the land for $155,000 and thus formed the Mary Barton Land Conservation Trust, named for Barton’s mother. Unwilling, however, to completely give up his playground, Barton worked into the deal lifetime rights to boat, fish, birdwatch and gather downed firewood. He also retained the right to use the pond for “the testing of equipment and inventions.” Presumably he continued to do so until his death in 1992.
Francis Barton skating on Eagle Pond, 1936
Uncle Gates mentioned once that he had tried to buy a piece of the pond from Otis with the intent of building, but I never knew the story behind it. He ended up getting a place nearby on Point Isabella. I stayed in that house during the off-season of 1983. Young and single in the winter, I didn’t have much to do, so in addition to frequenting the Cotuit Library, I spent hours, almost daily, running, walking and exploring the woods around Eagle Pond. Skating the pond in the winter, I discovered the concrete bunker where Barton once kept his canoe. I got to know the trails well, although in those days the only signs were leftovers from Otis and not useful for finding one’s way. I recall the peeling, faded red letters on the Enchanted Forest sign and a few masks still peering down from above. Even on solitary walks, I’d always let loose a slightlysatirical “WooooooOOOO,” in a low, quivering Halloween voice.
In 2011, the Mary Barton Trust merged into the Barnstable Land Trust. The amazing generosity and foresight of its founders and the Barton family and the continuing stewardship of the BLT all ensure that the pond and expanded lands around it will remain a valuable public resource in perpetuity. Like many others, I continue to enjoy the pond. I wish Uncle Gates were still around
to sneak me in for fishing. And I wonder if there’s a case for reviving the Enchanted Forest.
WoooooOOOO!
For more information, check out Barnstable Land Trust’s new Eagle Pond and Little River Sanctuary Trail Guide which can be found at local libraries and online at www.blt.org.
For more ideas about how to save your pond, go to State of the Waters Action Plan.
And remember, always check with your local conservation office before undertaking any projects around a pond so that you don’t run afoul of local and state wetlands protection regulations.
Pond Stories are a collection of writings and other media from Cape Codders and visitors who love the almost 1,000 local ponds that dot the Cape. We hope this collection of stories awakens your inner environmentalist to think deeper about our human impacts to these unique bodies of water.
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