I Went For A Walk In The River

With the temperature hovering right around freezing, it made sense to take advantage of the warm weather and do something ambitious. I decided to go for a walk in the river. In Northfield I see that the Cannon River is entirely frozen, but at successive crossings the river begins to open, black slices of rushing water divide iced-over expanses from the snow-covered banks. And when I park at the canoe landing some miles further upstream the river is nearly free of ice.

Clear, cold, flowing swiftly due to last weeks unusual winter rains, I hesitate to enter into the water. Once in, the force of moving water grabs my legs (and my attention!) and I quickly determine the boundaries beyond which I should not step.

I kick-net for half an hour. Using a net is one way to explore an otherwise unreachable reality. The surprise and immediacy of netting some unfamiliar animal is exhilarating, and almost as fantastical as being able to reach through the night sky and pull down a star or two for close observation. I peek into the net and examine each haul, then empty the contents onto the shore ice, picking through the catch. Though I'd come looking for dragonflies, I find instead a variety of other wonders: Blackside Darters, Midwest Salmonfly larvae, Watersnipe Fly maggots, crayfish, caddisflies, and scuds.

Here are the opening lines of a favorite long poem that sprang to mind today when I was "summoned" to the river:

I went for a walk by the river,
summoned by a drift or turn in the air,
unsure I didn't hear a flock
of ghostly birds disturb the trees.
Or perhaps it was the hollow whirls of water,
vortexes turning on emptiness,
that called me.

– Dale Jacobson, A Walk By The River (Red Dragonfly Press, 2004)

הועלה ב-ינואר 3, 2017 05:43 לפנה"צ על ידי scottking