On the Road: The Lively and Lovely River

Guest Author: Mike Drew

Gotta admit, I’ve never seen a worm feeding before.

But there it was, plowing through the sediment at the bottom of a puddle, wriggling like worms do, stopping here and there to stick its head into the muck, then wriggling on. Fascinating, I tell ya.
I was making my way along the Bow River, having a look around the banks and watching the flow one last time before the access road at McKinnon Flats closes for the winter - November 1 - and things start to ice up. It was a bit of a gloomy day, but that was okay. The light was soft and even, and for the pictures I was hoping to get, that’s what I wanted.

But first, down to Policeman’s Flats just downstream from the city.

Or maybe I should say, in the city. Aiming my camera at an eagle across the water, I could see a new housing development on the benchland above the valley. It extended off to the east - how far, I don’t know - well beyond where the eagle was perched. Not sure how I feel about that, but people gotta have somewhere to live, I guess.

The river was flowing along fast, clear and cold, with goldeneye ducks zipping along just above the surface and geese calling as they winged overhead. The far bank was draped with the fuzzy seed heads of clematis hanging from the willows and rose bushes. Wish I’d seen that earlier in the year when it was all in bloom.

Along the shore there was all kinds of detritus, leaves, a few green water plants and bits of wood thrown here by the current. One particular piece caught my eye. I was a ball of roots, tumbled and scraped as it floated over the rocks. So many different swirls and angles!

Continuing downstream and out of the metastasizing city, I turned toward the river again just beyond Indus and headed down to McKinnon Flats. It’s a bit of a shame that this road will be closed in just a few days, given the money that obviously went into its improvement, but as steep and twisty as it is, I can see how winter maintenance would be pretty tough.

The valley floor there, though, is gorgeous. It’s a full riverine forest with lines of cottonwoods marking old flood levels, poplars scattered among them, grassland studded with patches of cactus on the south-facing slopes and tangles of roses, osier dogwoods and willow closer to the water. Even now, with the trees mostly bare, it held its beauty.

Especially the small stuff among the trees.

Rose leaves glowed in the soft light, the reds and oranges bright against the background. The rose hips were pretty, too. A bit desiccated now, but still red. I found a dry cottonwood leaf that had impaled itself on a branch with next year’s buds looking green and resinous, ready to take the old leaf’s place once spring decides to return.

There was one clump of tansy, too, that was still holding onto its yellow blossoms. And just upstream, an island ringed with tall rye grass that was still mostly green So nice to see.

Down at the water there were a few birds, mostly ravens and the omnipresent geese, but what I noticed first were the midges. They were congregating on the rocks that poked out of the water, sticking close to the tiny microclimate created just above the river’s flowing water, a phenomenon that allows them to stay active even through the winter.

Fascinating little things, I got out my close-up stuff for a better look. They were kind of mosquito-like in size and shape but without the biting parts and tolerant when I moved in close. Among them were larvae of some sort, maybe of the midges themselves. In deeper water, they’ll be food to keep the trout happy below the coming winter ice.

There were a couple of places I wanted to check on the way downstream but I decided to go to the Carseland weir first. Might be some more birds there but the views of the river valley were what drew me.

I probably should have been there a week or so ago when there were more leaves on the trees but the subtle greens, golds and ambers were lovely enough. I could pick out willows and cottonwoods, balsam poplars and Manitoba maples, plenty of rye grass and the red stems of osier dogwood. Yeah, definitely lovely enough.

I had hoped to find some ducks down at the weir but there was nothing there. Above the weir, though, there were ring-billed gulls, one of which posed nicely on the bright yellow boom that crossed the flat water. Further upstream, more gulls sat on a promontory backdropped by willows and trees.

And on a muddy road leading up close to the river, I found the worm.

But I didn’t see it right away. The first thing I noticed was the twisty trails through the mud, so I stopped beside the puddle for a closer look. That water was fairly clear and pretty shallow so what I first took to be bird tracks kind of mushed together in the soft sediment didn’t look quite right. The trail was too twisty and too compact.

But then a bit of movement caught my eye.

That was the worm, and it was its trail I was following. It was actually moving a lot more quickly than I would have figured, and as I aimed my lens at it I had a hard time keeping up. But from time to time it would stop, lift its head and then either burrow into the muck for a few inches or continue on its way. It seemed to me like hunting behaviour. I’m likely wrong on that but that’s what it looked like.

Finally, it found a place where it decided to burrow in and it was gone. Pretty unique experience.

I kept on going now, concentrating more on small colour than the bigger features of the river valley. Things like grass.

Grasses go through colour changes just like trees. They have streaks of colour like red and orange, little bits of stubborn green but because they are small and underfoot, they often get ignored. So I took out the macro gear again to make them a bit bigger.

It’s amazing what you can see once you get really close to a blade of grass that’s barely the width of a fingernail. The colours get brighter, little bumps and scrapes show up and, when the light is just right, you can even pick out the individual cells in the leaf. Today, the light wasn’t quite that.

It was getting to be mid-afternoon now so I left the river valley to explore a bit of the flats above. Right at the top of the hill above the weir I found a flock of pheasants poking around a stubble field, most of whom took off squawking immediately. But one rooster decided to run instead. Thank you, sir!

And not far from them, a big bunch of ring-billed gulls. They will be headed out soon but wth local feedlots to roost in and feed, they’ll be around a while yet.

Clouds were getting thicker now. Rain was in the forecast, changing to light snow overnight, so I started heading back. But there was one more place i wanted to stop at.

Legacy Island boat launch is a nice spot right on the river with sandstone cliffs on one side and cottonwoods on the other. The island is reached by a small stream crossing - dry now - that is next to a lovely acreage filled with birds. I stop here as often as I can.

But I barely made it to the island today.

As I approached the crossing, deer started to appear out of the tall rye grass. There were at least ten of them, mule deer, with does and fawns and one fork-horned buck. Unlike panicky whitetails, they just stopped and stared as I parked to photograph them and then went back to feeding. One momma did keep an eye on me though. She stared back at me with, it seemed, a bit of defiance. I love mulies!

Getting darker now so time to head back and leave the river behind. It’s still lively and lovely but soon it will begin its long winter rest.