It is at the bend of a verdant forest, at the crossroads of Germany, Switzerland and France, that one enters the Alsatian Petite Camargue.
On the forecourt of the lock house, equipped with sand-colored clothes, a cap screwed on his head, stands Philippe Knibiely, the director of the reserve.
If he is not the owner of the place, it is here a little at home.
The 50-year-old has been in the business for just over three decades.
This is his first job and, he hopes, his last.
As he enters the island of greenery, the man advances, proudly.
"The reserve has grown well,"
he marvels.
With good reason: since 1982, it has gone from a few hundred hectares to 904.
The remains of a bygone era are offered to the eye.
Rivers, waterfalls, meadows… Water is omnipresent.
A flooded marsh with a meadow of water lilies evoke
Monet's
Water Lilies .
Time seems to stand still.
For a few seconds, the water no longer ripples.
She remains frozen.
Suddenly…
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