Rebuilding Connection: Western Mass Bridge Overpass for Nature and People

By: Katie Jones, Founder of The Green Spiral

Journal entry

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The discussion around the human right to nature is layered and complex. At its most basic level, we confront the barriers many people face in accessing green spaces—be it something as simple as a fee to walk a neighborhood path, or the deeper injustice of unreliable transportation disconnecting inner-city communities from natural landscapes. While the list goes on, another dimension of rights emerges—those held by for-profit companies to use land, and the extent to which they are permitted to manipulate it for capital gain. Regardless of circumstance, we often frame the core question around how we can use nature to serve human needs.

Rarely do we ask what nature needs in order to remain whole, healthy, and sustaining for all.

Each time I look out my window or begin my drive from Natick into Cambridge, I find it hard to imagine a world where any being—human or otherwise—can truly bask in nature’s glory. Our lives are increasingly dictated by what job will yield the most financial freedom in the shortest time, and in exchange, we exhaust our lifeforce and gradually erase our shared wild spaces. The walkability of our cities, the reliability of public transportation, the closeness of our communities—these all wither under a culture of work that diverts our focus away from values that once made us whole.

One hardly-discussed angle is the right that animals, plants, and other species hold to this Earth—a planet they belong to as much as we do. While humans struggle to meet even our own basic needs under modern systems, how can we possibly guarantee the safety and continuity of life beyond ourselves?

On my evening walks, I often share the road with many lives. On one side, cars rush by—humans heading home from work or wherever else life demands they go, often traveling 55 in a 35 MPH residential zone. On the other side, I see tightly packed homes, and now and then, a rabbit crouched just feet from the blur of steel and speed. It’s painful to think how many will be lost to the gods of the 9-to-5, so that one day a person might retire at 65.

It’s important to remember that our choices—and the values behind them—reverberate far beyond our individual lives. Our families, our communities, and the living world we share will continue to suffer if we keep down this path, if we allow ourselves to remain complacent in the face of such quiet erosion.

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Rebuilding Connection: A Bridge Overpass for Nature and People in Western Mass

In the rolling hills of Western Massachusetts, a new kind of bridge is set to rise—not just of steel and concrete, but of vision and hope. The long-anticipated wildlife and hiker crossing over the Massachusetts Turnpike will become the first of its kind in the state, offering a safe corridor for animals and humans alike to cross one of the busiest roadways in the region. While it may appear at first glance to be just another infrastructure project, the significance of this bridge reaches far deeper—it’s a symbol of reconnection.

Stretching across I-90 near the Blandford and Becket town line, the bridge is designed to restore a long-broken link in an ancient migration path. For decades, the Mass Pike has acted as a hard border slicing through the Berkshires, severing habitats and fracturing the movements of countless species. Moose, black bears, deer, and smaller creatures like foxes and turtles have all fallen victim to this modern scar on the land. And it’s not just animals—hikers and naturalists have long lamented the gap, which has turned otherwise continuous trail systems into isolated sections.

The new crossing is not simply a wildlife overpass; it’s a living pathway. Designed with native plantings and natural materials, it will mimic the surrounding forest, offering safe passage for both paws and boots. This ecological corridor is about more than safety—it’s about healing a wound in the landscape. It’s about giving back space to the more-than-human world, and recognizing that highways may move us fast, but they’ve also moved us away from something essential.

Projects like this challenge the old narrative that infrastructure and wildness must remain at odds. They show us that there are solutions rooted in coexistence—choices that don’t pit progress against preservation. With climate pressures rising and biodiversity shrinking, investments like this one aren’t luxuries; they’re necessities. They help us remember that the health of our forests, rivers, and wildlife is inseparable from the health of our communities.

For nature guides, hikers, ecologists, and everyday citizens alike, this bridge is more than a project—it’s a promise. A promise that even in the shadow of decades of environmental fragmentation, we can still choose to reconnect. We can still build with the land, not just on top of it.