Inwood Hill Park

Inwood Hill Park occupies 196 acres at the northern tip of Manhattan, where the Hudson and Harlem Rivers meet at Spuyten Duyvil Creek. The park contains the last natural forest and the last salt marsh remaining on the island of Manhattan, offering a landscape that more closely resembles the island's pre-colonial condition than any other location in the borough.

The park's old-growth tulip trees, oaks, and other hardwoods grow on rocky ridges shaped by glacial activity during the last Ice Age. Geological features include glacial potholes, erratic boulders deposited by retreating glaciers, and exposed bedrock of Inwood marble and Manhattan schist that form the foundation of the entire island.

Archaeological evidence indicates that the Lenape people maintained seasonal encampments in the area for thousands of years before European contact. A plaque in the park marks the legendary (though historically debated) site where Peter Minuit purchased Manhattan from the Lenape in 1626 for goods valued at 60 guilders.

The park's ecosystems include mature upland forest, freshwater wetland, and the last remaining natural salt marsh in Manhattan. These habitats support a remarkable diversity of bird species, making Inwood Hill one of the best birdwatching destinations in New York City, particularly during spring and fall migration when warblers, raptors, and shorebirds pass through.

Recreation facilities include soccer and baseball fields in the lower, flatter portions of the park, hiking trails through the forested ridges, a nature center, and areas for kayaking and canoeing along the Harlem River. The Urban Ecology Center provides environmental education programming for schools and community groups.

Inwood Hill Park is an irreplaceable natural resource: the last place in Manhattan where one can walk through a forest that, while not truly primeval, maintains ecological continuity with the woodlands that covered the island before Henry Hudson sailed into the harbor in 1609. Its preservation represents one of the most farsighted decisions in the city's park-building history.