Yesterday I finally took a hike with a friend that I have been meaning too hike with for several months. I pulled my pair of snowshoes down off the hook on the garage wall and wrestled them onto my boots.
In 1980 we moved to a 7.9 acre plot of land out in the country several miles west of Wheaton. Immediately I developed a close friendship with the southern edge of our property as it contained a creek. I had never experienced a creek before. On the farm that I grew up on I never experienced running water unless we suffered a ‘gully washer’ that would send rain water streaming down our driveway. But that was short lived. Large sloughs and smaller ponds dotted our two quarters of land but they were never able to replicate the running water that occurred in a creek.
So yesterday I decided to renew my acquaintance with that ice covered body of water. With my newly donned snowshoes I hiked through the switch grass sinking several inches into the powdery snow. As I approached the creek I remembered that the winter season gave the creek the best opportunity to communicate with the hiker. The communication began almost immediately as I cautiously climbed down the steep embankment to the ice covered creek.
The snow covered creek bank captured the tracks of a deer that had made that same descent much more agilely I’m sure than my clumsy attempt. As I reached the creek and stood on the creek ice more tracks revealed other wildlife activity. Squirrel tracks recorded that the bushy tailed rodent had scampered across the creek to the safety of a tree on the other side. Several sets of large bird tracks ambled close to the creek’s edge reminding me that several turkeys had passed by recently. Cottontail rabbit tracks could be seen over the creek surface and up on the creek banks. A large tree branch had fallen on the ice and the bark had been stripped clean on its smaller branches . The hundreds of rabbit tracks surrounding the fallen branch made it clear what animal was responsible for the debarking process.
I paused briefly and listened. There was total silence. The wind wasn’t even moving through the Box Elder branches which is highly unusual during a Minnesota winter. There wasn’t even the drum of a woodpecker or the scolding of a chickadee. I stood amazed in that stillness realizing that the tracks left in the snow were a reminder that it wasn’t always that quiet and peaceful. I was glad the creek ice had recorded those many activities.
Creek ice can be very unpredictable as the water may be flowing under the ice. I was reminded of this as I dropped one of my snowshoes into the freezing water. I didn’t panic however as the water was only a foot deep in that spot. 🙂 Later as I was approaching a beaver dam I broke through the ice again and both feet went into the water. Again the shallow water saved me.
As I made my ascent up the steep creek bank and headed my snowshoes back to the house I began to reminisce about some of the many experiences that the creek had afforded my friends and family over the years. The first memory is a painful one literally for our daughter Jill and emotionally for me. Let me explain. Steve and Jill each had a friend over and they were fishing down by the creek. I heard a loud scream coming from the creek so I ran down to see if there was a problem. I met Jill running to me in tears with a fishing lure stuck in the back of her head. I can still remember that speedy trip to the hospital with Jill sitting on my lap and the dare devil dangling in my face as I drove. The doctor expertly removed the lure and one tetanus shot later she was back home. There was no more fishing for that day however! 🙂
Our science club took a field trip out to the creek one afternoon after school. The superintendent’s daughter had one of her shoes sucked off in the creek mud and we couldn’t find it. To this day the shoe is still there mired in the creek muck. Perhaps there is a 49 year old lady somewhere having reoccurring nightmares about creek mud sucking off her shoes. Neither she nor her psychiatrist can figure out why. 🙂
When I was in the fifth grade I caught my first mink. I shared this trapping experience with my son, Steve. So when he got in the fifth grade he announced to me that he wanted to trap mink. So I took him down to the creek and we made a water set on a beaver dam. Steve was very faithful and checked the trap every morning before school. A whole month went by and the trap remained unsnapped. Then one Saturday he went to check the trap and a short time later came screaming into the house hollering, “Dad, I think I caught a mink!” We went back to the creek together and sure enough he had caught a nice sized buck mink. At this point we had never discussed what the next step would be once the mink was in the trap. I had a club and waded out into the creek and killed the mink. As I was in the process of dispatching the mink Steve was standing on the creek bank directly behind me and I heard him say. “Yuck!” He never trapped anything again. The creek can be an educator too.
One fall I was very successful in catching mink along the creek. Color televisions were the rage and I was able to earn enough money to buy a color television for the family. That really improved the Saturday morning cartoon watching!
As the grandchildren started arriving the creek drew them like a magnet. We have made many trips to the creek. One spring all the families were home for Easter. The spring melt had begun and the creek was flowing. Each of the grandkids made a boat from dead branches found in the grove and we had a contest to see whose boat would float into the culvert under the highway first. We waded out into the creek about 100 yards upstream and set them afloat at the same time. Talk about excited grandkids. Several of the competitive fathers climbed up onto the highway and attempted to aid their child’s boat by throwing rocks at the other boats. They received a stern talking to from all of the grandkids and if I remember correctly several mothers chimed in.
The creek demonstrates a variety of personalities. Winter is its quiet and communicating time. As spring arrives and the snow and ice begins to melt it becomes powerful and emits a constant roar as the water rushes to join forces with the Mustinka River water and enters Lake Traverse. This is the time of the year when the stream bed changes the most. The powerful flowing water can erode the banks and at times whole trees topple and are swept away. Summer brings peace again. Years ago when I was writing a nature column for the magazine “Minnesota-out-of Doors” I would sit down by the creek and write. The running water produced a calming affect as it gurgled and splashed over the rocks. As fall arrives the creek’s condition can vary depending on how much rain has fallen during the summer. Some falls there is no running water. Only shallow pools remain in low areas in the creek bed. One fall the creek was completely dry. Most often though the creek runs slowly even as the ice begins to form.
I didn’t hang the snowshoes up just yet. The reconnecting with my friend the creek was so much fun that I think I’m going to have to do it a few more times this winter. I want to enjoy the communication while it lasts. In just a few more weeks the snow covered ice will give way to the power and noise of rushing water as a new season is ushered in. And that means the peaceful sounds of water ebbing and flowing over the creek’s rocky bottom won’t be too far behind. My computer isn’t a laptop. I wonder how I can get it down to the creek so I can write some summer blogs? Anybody have an extra 700 feet of extension cord? 🙂
Until next time.
