Bittsa Park

Listen for a moment. Somewhere behind the birches, a woodpecker is knocking on dry wood. Under your feet, the path is soft with old leaves and pine needles. The air smells of damp earth and resin. It is hard to believe that one of the largest cities in Europe surrounds you on every side.

This is Bittsa Park, known to Muscovites as the Bitsevsky Forest. It lies in the south and southwest of Moscow, between residential districts like Yasenevo, Konkovo and Chertanovo. On a map, it looks like a long green wedge pushed into the grey grid of apartment blocks. On the ground, it feels like a real forest, because that is what it is.

Unlike many city parks, this place was never designed from scratch. Most of it is woodland that survived as Moscow grew outward in the second half of the twentieth century. The planners built the new districts around it rather than through it. So instead of flower beds and fountains, you find ravines, streams, old trees and narrow paths worn by generations of walkers.

The park takes its name from the Bitsa River, a small stream that winds through the forest. It is not a grand river. In places you can step across it. But the water has carved deep, shaded ravines into the land over a very long time. These ravines give the park its shape — gentle slopes, sudden dips, and hollows where the air feels cooler even in summer.

Look at the trees around you. This is a mixed forest. Birch is everywhere, with its white bark marked by black lines. You will also find oak, linden, maple and stands of pine. In autumn, the birches turn yellow and the maples go orange and red. In winter, the dark pines stand out against the snow, and the whole forest becomes quiet.

Here is something many visitors miss. The forest is dotted with natural springs. Some of them are well known to local people, who come with plastic bottles and canisters to collect the water. For many families in the surrounding districts, a walk to a favourite spring is a small weekly ritual. If you see a little group gathered around a pipe or a wooden frame in a ravine, you have probably found one.

Long before the apartment blocks arrived, this land belonged to country estates. Moscow's nobility built summer houses in these southern hills, away from the dust of the old city. Traces of that world remain at the edges of the forest. The Uzkoye estate lies nearby, with its old park and church. Legend and memory gather around such places, and locals still treat them as quiet corners of an older Moscow.

Uzkoye has a notable literary and philosophical connection. The Russian philosopher Vladimir Solovyov died there in 1900, while staying with friends. Solovyov wrote about faith, love and the unity of all things. It is a strange and moving thought — that a man who spent his life on such questions ended his days among the same kind of trees you see now.

Now for a second surprise. Bittsa Park has an Olympic history. When Moscow hosted the Summer Olympic Games in 1980, the equestrian events were held at a sports complex built at the edge of this forest. Horses and riders from around the world competed here. Today the equestrian centre is still in use, and you may meet riders on the forest trails, moving slowly between the trees.

In the early 1990s, the forest received official protection as a natural and historical park. This status matters. It means the land is meant to stay wild, with limits on building and development. For the people who live around it, the forest is not a tourist attraction. It is their daily breathing space — the place for a morning run, a dog walk, or a long Sunday wander.

Watch the people as you walk. In summer, you will see cyclists, runners, families with prams, and older couples walking slowly with sticks. In winter, the park changes character. Cross-country skiers glide along prepared tracks, and the sound of skis on snow replaces the sound of bicycle wheels. For many Moscow children, these trails are where they first learned to ski.

The wildlife is modest but real. Squirrels are the most common sight. They are often bold enough to come close if someone has brought nuts. Listen for birds — tits, woodpeckers, crows and jays. In quieter parts of the forest, away from the main paths, it is possible to forget the city completely for a while. Only the distant hum of traffic reminds you where you are.

The size of the forest is part of its character. It is easy to walk for an hour and still be among trees. Paths branch, cross and branch again. Some are wide and paved. Others are just thin lines of trodden earth. It is wise to keep a map on your phone, because the ravines can turn you around, and many paths look alike.

Before you go, stop for a moment where you are standing. Notice the light coming through the leaves, or the bare branches against the sky. Notice the smell of the soil and the sound of your own footsteps. On every side of this forest, millions of people are living their busy lives. And here, for now, there is only the woodpecker, the wind in the birches, and the path leading on.