Spring Pond, which abuts Peabody, Salem and Lynn, has a place in my personal history that extends back 40 years. In 1982, I bought a house on Lynn Street in Peabody, across from Brown’s Pond where I would often go swimming with my housemates and dog, Bear. But when I wanted a longer walk or more secluded swim Bear and I would head a short walk east on Spring Pond Road. 

 

Unless one looks hard, Spring Pond could be deep in the wilds of New Hampshire. It’s surrounded by forested hills and frequented by migrating birds: buffleheads, mergansers, pintails and ring-necked ducks drop by at times. In the summer there is a colony of cawing seagulls.

 

Like many New England landscapes though, what we see now is not what was there a hundred years ago. The now bucolic forested lower Ipswich River was once a hive of industry and commerce. But Spring Pond, now a reservoir, has a long history of being valued for its scenery and the water flowing from the spring for which it is named.

 

To quote from “History of Lynn, Lynnfield, Saugus, and Swampscot” published in 1865 and available online from the Library of Congress, 

… the most noted mineral spring in this region is that near the eastern border of the town, on the margin of Spring Pond, which lies within the limits of Salem. The waters are impregnated with iron and sulphur, and were formerly much esteemed for their good effects in scorbutic and pulmonary affections. 

 

The book tells us that at end of the 1600s, Dr. John Caspar Richter van Crowninscheldt purchased land around the pond, and “at his romantic retreat eminent personages were sometimes entertained. The celebrated Cotton Mather, among others, visited him, partook of the waters of the spring, and in one of his elaborate works extols their virtues.”

 

“History of Lynn, Lynnfield, Saugus, and Swampscot” describes the pond in the flowery language of the time:

 

The situation is delightful. The little lake, which has received the pretty name of Lynnmere, nestles so cozily and smiles so brightly between the thickly wooded hills that it might almost be imagined there had been a compact that it should be shielded from the wild winds that would agitate its bosom, in return for the refreshing exhalations it might send up to renovate the drooping foliage. Upon the western bank, which rises gracefully to a considerable height, was erected, in 1810, the edifice long known as Lynn Mineral Spring Hotel. It was a favorite summer resort; and no inland retreat could be more charming. There was fishing in the pond, fowling in the woods, and beautiful drives in all directions. 

Later, people traveled to that hotel to restore their health by drinking the waters and worshiping the goddess Hygeia. Eventually this pagan worship fell out of style and Richard Fay, a merchant and manufacturer, bought 500 acres of land around the pond and up to Highland Ave where there is now a Walmart and Girl Scout Camp. He built a mansion surrounded by an arboretum open to the public, and ever since, that area near the pond has been known as the Fay Estate. Of course before all of that, the Native Americans lived at the pond, and I once found an arrowhead while walking there with Bear. 

Spring Pond is now part of the Peabody water supply, but years ago Bear and I would occasionally join the birds and the kids from Lynn swinging out into the water on a high rope swing. Bear seemed to think it was funny to try to climb up on my back as we swam across the pond, but I begged to differ. We’d keep away from the seagulls, and frankly, from the stench anywhere near their colony, I can’t imagine we could possibly do anything nearly as bad to the water quality. 

Over the years, the pond, like many other aspects of nature, has been telling the story of climate change. The ice forms later in the year, or not at all, and it’s the rare year it extends into March. Summers of drought have been alternating with years of plenty of rain. This spring there was a drought and the underbrush burned extensively from fires that were almost certainly set. The burnt areas are already choked with rapidly growing greenbriar and will come back fine.

 

On the other hand, the turkeys have been flourishing. My later in life dog, Ginger, a 12-pound cockapoo, and I came across a flock of 30 at a field up by the Girl Scout camp. They seemed unusually hostile and unafraid so we backed away.

 

On a recent Sunday, our hiking group, the Ginger Ramblers, walked from Fays Avenue, Lynn along the pond as far as the pumping station and back. Everyone was amazed that this hidden gem exists in the heart of our suburban midst. We’re a chatty group that have gone on innumerable local walks over the last few years, but we’re still amazed that this hidden gem exists in the heart of our suburban midst.