My good friend, Charlotte Lucas, suggested I write about my river. If this turns out to be a not-so-good diary, I'd love to blame it on her, but I won't :-) It all started when I sent her this message:
"The river this morning was magic. It was light when I went down there and 4 below zero. The mist was rising off the water like wisps of translucent white flames. The tips would rise and then be overtaken by others in a sort of cloud ballet. I hope you can see the picture I'm trying to paint. It was other-worldly... When I got down to the shore, there was open water and a whole bunch of ducks (mallards). Contrary to popular belief, ducks don't fly south because they're cold. The only leave here if there is no open, protected water for them to feed. They hang out in the shallows below the dam where the water is a little calmer. The eagles and gulls soar right up next to the dam where they can nab the stunned fish coming off the rollers."
Old Man River
(Lyrics by: Oscar Hammerstein II)
Ol' Man River, that Ol' Man River
He must know somepin', but he don't say nothin'
He just keeps rollin', he keeps on rollin' along
He don't plant taters, and he don't plant cotton,
And them what plants 'em is soon forgotten,
But Ol' Man River, jest keeps rollin' along.
I guess we all take for granted the wonders of the place where we grew up. Sometimes it takes a visitor to point out how special things are. I was born, raised, and still live along the Mississippi River. I've never lived more than a few blocks from it and have crossed it over our many bridges hundreds of times. When I was young, it was not a great place to spend time. Although we learned about the history and significance of our river, at that time it was basically a dumping ground. Chemicals, sewage, garbage, you name it and it was in there.
When I was little, Granddad used to take me fishing on the weekends. It's probably a good thing we never caught anything, because I'm sure it would have been tainted. He also took me across on the ferry a few times. Even though there were bridges, there was a passenger ferry that left from the foot of Main Street, and it was a lot quicker and easier to cross that way than to walk across the bridge. We didn't have business in Illinois. We just rode over and back. It was a good way to keep cool on a hot summer day. I'm not sure I noticed then that there was all kinds of stuff floating in the water. I didn't see the brown foam along the shore. It wasn't until I was older that I noticed the petroleum rainbows from the barges as we drove across the bridge. It never got as bad as the flaming water in Ohio, but I'm betting it was close. I do know there were no eagles. Whether it was DDT or the disgusting state of the water, or both, I never saw an eagle until I was well into adulthood.
Fast-forward forty-five years, and I'm watching eagles soar over my car. I move a lot slower now and I notice a lot more about my river. It's most dramatic seasons are Winter and Spring, but there is always something of interest to see or hear. Two years ago, we made national headlines after our second seasonal flood of the year. Cedar Rapids and Iowa City had way more damage than we did, but if I had been sitting in my car in the same spot on the riverfront then, it would have been submerged. Fences, parking meters, and all but the tallest signs disappeared. There were white pelicans and mallards floating down the middle of the highway that parallels the river. Getting to my credit union was an adventure in traveling alleys and side streets, doubling back to avoid the sandbag dikes in the middle of many streets. The grass in the park was under water for several weeks,and when the waters receded, the mud it left behind finished it off. Late in the season, they came with end-loaders to scrape off the top layer, and then installed rolls of sod nearly as tall as I am to reintroduce the green to that desolate expanse.
By the time winter rolled around, I was treated to a new sight. For the first time, eagles chose to make day roosts in the park very close to the riverboat casino. They don't usually like to have people in such close proximity, but Arsenal Island must have gotten too crowded, because there they were! There are even more of them there this year.
It's the same story with the pelicans. Five years ago, I noticed them soaring above the city. For two years after that, they spent a couple of days fishing below the dam before flying farther north. Two years ago, the year of the floods, some of them stayed all summer. Now we have enough of them around all summer that the fisherman complain.
They will never convince me that a couple dozen pelicans make that big a dent in their catch, but as the economy has worsened I have noticed a lot more people fishing seriously for food and cash. From the riverfront at dawn, you can see john boats going up and down, deploying and retrieving nets. There is a desperate efficiency in the movements. This is not sport fishing. Up near the dam, too near for my comfort, are more boats. They are counting on the same thing as the eagles and gulls: stunned fish flowing over the rollers. These folks are fishing with poles. There are also many people just standing at the railings in the park, casting out into the muddy waters. There are lots of different fish here but the big prize is a good catfish. Personally, I don't care for fish, but if I did, I don't think I could eat catfish. I mean, they crawl along the bottom to feed. Despite the fact that the river is much cleaner than it was, heaven knows what is down there!
This is an introduction to the river. I am reading Life on the Mississippi by Mark Twain and am fascinated to find many of the landmarks he cited still identified on Google Earth. If I can organize my thoughts a little better, I'll be posting more about it. I'd encourage everyone to do a little digging into their own area. No matter how much you think you know, you might be surprised...