Passionate letters of gratitude poured in from all over, from the Caribbean to the Arctic Circle, though Willie Browne never traveled further than the Georgia state line, never had a phone, nor electricity. He did, however, have countless friends. When he died alone in his cabin in the woods in 1970, he left to the Nature Conservancy hundreds of acres of marshes, hardwood forest and bluffs overlooking the St. Johns River. Though he would never have chosen it, his became the face of the conservation movement in much of the South, beloved of environmentalists and hikers, artists and writers. Half a century later, more people know Willie Browne than ever. And they still say they can feel his presence in these woods.
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