LOOKING OVER THE NORTHERN BORDER, AND OVER THEIR SHOULDER

ROUT RIVER, N.Y. - THIS is where the homeland begins, and thankfully,
Morgan Badger is on the first line of defense.

He lives in this speck of a town on the Canadian border, and whether he's
home near the United States checkpoint or at his bar up the road, he's
eager to do his part in the global neighborhood watch.

"When you see a strange face, you call," he said. "I don't want some yo-yo
coming through here on the way to New York City to blow something up. If I
can do something to stop them, I'd be happier than hell."

So would we all.

The United States-Canada border was always sort of the class trip of
foreign travel - novel, but nonthreatening. But the post-Sept. 11 hunt for
holes in the security net identified it as a prime place from which
terrorists could slip into the United States, helped by Canada's relatively
lax immigration laws.

As Washington congratulated itself last week for establishing the Homeland
Security Department, you got a more sobering view here on the homeland's
front step.

On Thursday morning, Roger Lanoue, a marina operator, was eating at the Ole
Tymes Cafe, in the corner of New York bordering Vermont and Canada. "In the
winter, the lake freezes over," he said, motioning toward Lake Champlain.
"If you want to get across, skate, ski."

Sneaking across is much tougher since last year. There are hundreds more
border agents, a web of cameras and motion sensors, and better uses of
intelligence, aircraft and boats. The tightening is evident in slower lines
at major crossings and soaring seizures of marijuana.

Still, there are only about 500 border patrol agents on the 4,000-mile
border, compared with 9,300 along the 2,000-mile Mexican border.

In town after town here, the official notion of tight-as-a-drum domestic
security gives way to the reality of plugging holes in an open society.

Canadians keep post office boxes in the United States because mail service
is better. There is a constant flow of workers and relatives. A driver on a
rural school bus route said she crossed into Canada every morning, just to
turn around on the safest part of the road. Residents praise the
re-enforced border, but as one said, "If there's a will, there's a way."

Celine Paquette, an insurance agent in Champlain, N.Y., and a trustee of
the State University of New York, appreciates the new vigilance, but
worries about the root of terrorism. "They absolutely hate us," she said.
"It can't only be because we're pro-Israel. Is it because we're seen as
haughty or we think we're so right?"

That question hangs in the air here, with people acutely aware that no
border can be made impermeable.

One remote crossing closes at 4 p.m. "We just put up the gate and turn off
the lights," said an agent there. (With the nation on alert, a Customs
Service guard and cameras now mind the crossing on off hours.) Up the road,
a sign pointing to a federal office reminds travelers to "report
immediately for inspection."

Farther west, the St. Regis Mohawk reservation straddles the border, making
it a favorite territory for smugglers. Drive north on the reservation and
ask for directions. "You're in Quebec, Canada," said Darcy Day, a tribal
council member.

But there's no official border crossing. "This is Mohawk land," he said,
although agents from both countries and the tribal police watch it closely.
Rivers keep you from driving farther into Canada, but Mr. Day said that in
winter, you can cross by snowmobile, and head toward Montreal "without
checkpoints." Or make the reverse trip to New York.

JENNIFER COWAN lives on the border in Chateaugay, N.Y. She recently
reported suspicious men in vans, and agents found illegal immigrant
smuggling. Living here, she said, "You feel an obligation to your country."

She also sees domestic defense in a larger context. Before joining her
father's farm equipment business, Ms. Cowan, 27, received a business degree
at SUNY-Binghamton. She had many foreign classmates, and their antipathy
for America surprised her. She has thought about that a lot since the
terrorist attacks.

"I don't know how to tackle so many years of inbred feelings about
America," she said.

But trying to stop it at the border hardly seems enough. On her piece of
the homeland, she can monitor the fields for suspicious arrivals from
Canada. Even then, she said, "Someone could be coming through the woods.