Spring Walk on the River Fishing Trail: Post-Flood

Spring Walk on the River Fishing Trail

Post-Flood

Ouabache Trails Park

May 5, 2014

 

 

Finally, I could walk the River Fishing Trail again at Ouabache Trails Park, all the way to the Wabash River.

The last time I tried, in late February, the whole area was almost completely covered in water, and I had barely walked up the trail before it disappeared into the flood (see “The River Meets the River Fishing Trail”, February 23, 2014).

Last time, the big creek flowing to the Wabash River was hardly evident, and the tunnel under the railroad was almost filled.

  Looking back upstream toward the railroad tunnel

This time, I was able to gingerly step through one side of the tunnel, with the aid of rocks, concrete and pieces of wood.  Minnows were darting through the shade in the creek that flowed through the other half.

The landscape was very different in other ways, too. Trees had almost completely leafed out, and all was a vibrant, new greenness.  There was a gentle rustle of leaves in the breezy canopy, and a wet, spicy fragrance below.  Bird song was rich and varied, along with the staccato hammering of woodpeckers.

As far as wildflowers go, this sunny area flourishes in the summertime.  In May, bright yellow Swamp Buttercup blooms (Ranunculus hispidus) dotted the now green forest floor around the first section of trail.

Fallen limbs were sprouting new bunches of leaves. 

In February, I could only see parts of leafless trees jutting out of water, so that the floodplain forest resembled a swamp. In early May, the water had receded and left evidence of its presence. As I looked through the forest, there seemed to be a line where the flood had rested several feet above ground, with greenery above the line.

 The clear understory helped the Whitetail Deer to run through the forest, and there were many prints where hooves pushed deeply into the thick mud.

 As I moved along the trail, approaching the river, marks of the flood level became more distinct.  Tree trunks were colored gray with river mud, up to where the water had reached.  Standing near these trees was eerie, as I could see from the marks that, not long before this, I would have been under water, too.

Looking ahead through the trees, I could see the shimmering light of river side.  Many of the trees in this floodplain forest are water-lovers, such as Silver Maple (Acer sacchrinum) and Eastern Cottonwood (Populus deltoids). I will take a closer look sometime for any Swamp Cottonwoods (Populus heterophylla).

The herbaceous plants on the forest floor, too, are species that survive floods.  Here, one of many young Lizard Tail (Saururus cernuus) plants was rising from the mud.  This summer, large swaths of forest floor will be covered by them with their “tails” of white, headily-scented flowers.

A crayfish had used the abundant mud to build an especially tall chimney.

 The River Fishing Trail winding through the flat floodplain forest to the Wabash River.

 This section of forest is much closer to the river, experiences much more sunlight.  I began to see some trees bending toward the bright light of the river channel.

 I was not sure who made this print in the floodplain (a fox?), but the mud was the texture of very thick brownie batter. A shiny black ant was investigating, possibly gathering some moisture.

Mushrooms taking advantage of dark, moist crevices in a dead tree. Their mycelium below the surface extract nutrients from the wood and help break it down.

Ah, the junction of the creek and the Wabash River appeared! The left bank, with the longer slope, had been supporting trees that were beginning to tilt as their footholds changed.

 The sunlight was so much greater near the river.  One tree looked as if it did not have much time left for a vertical life.

I would love to have taken a boat or plane to see this area at top flood stage.

I ventured nearer the creek.

The mud was terribly thick, but the local wildlife was determined to get to the creek for water and food. Here, a raccoon had tried its level best, and succeeded.

 The long, spread-out toes of a Great Blue Heron helped the tall bird to negotiate the mud with less difficulty.

 I and my shoes, however, were not so adept, so I went no closer to the creek.

Maple seeds were scattered over mud cracks.  This summer, these seeds will be replaced by Cottonwood fluff.

Somehow, the last view approaching a body of water, when the gleam of a river or lake can be seen just ahead, is the most exciting.

I was getting closer to the Wabash River, which I was never able to see in February.  I could see the Illinois side of the river across the way, where the water had left marks of its varying levels along the banks. Likewise, the left bank of the creek was layered.

Nearer the river, there was plenty of evidence that everyone had been heading river side – people, dogs and wildlife.

Ah, what a view – of our Mighty Muddy! How often I have imagined French fur traders plying these waters in their huge pirogues well over 200 years ago. But, that would have been different water, flowing on to different places. 

This view is looking downstream, toward Vincennes, Indiana.

 Everyone wanted to be near the river …

 ...including dogs.

After I was closer to the junction, I could see that the flood marks at the end of the creek were more like terraces where lapping water had gouged away at the sediment.

Looking upstream, in a northerly direction, I saw two distinct terraces, the higher one older and smoothed with time, the lower one more sharply-edged and crumbling.

 Lines of sediment at the river's edge showed signs of more recent, finer fluctuations in water level.

 A recent river fluctuation left rivulets in the sandy mud.

 Raccoon prints were more finely detailed here, compared to the deep prints at creek side.  The front paws of raccoons leave prints resembling tiny human hands.

 There were unfamiliar prints to me, and very curious. They were large, had long toes, and the positions of the feet in the trail looked like the animal had leaped from the water and waddled across the mud. I wondered if they were from a Beaver – something with long toes, a waddle, large feet, and that would be coming out of the water. The most valuable pelt that the French and other hunted, almost to extinction, was Beaver.

 My shoe (size 9 women's) next to a mystery print.

I took one more look upstream at the Wabash River.  It was good to see it again, from the end of the River Fishing Trail in Ouabache Trails Park.

**Note on Wabash/Ouabache: Native Americans called the river a name that sounded like “wa ba shi ki”, meaning white or shining water. The French inhabitants shortened it to two syllables, calling it “wa bash” spelled, in French, Ouabache.  English-speaking people later used the same name and pronunciation, but used the English spelling of the French word: thus, Wabash.  Ouabache and Wabash are pronounced exactly the same way – they are just different spellings.

(Saying “oobatchee” is incorrect. For one thing, it leaves out the sound of the first “a” in Ouabache. The French “ou” sounds like an English “w”.  With the “a” added, it sounds like “wa”.  The French “che” - with a silent “e” - sounds like the English “sh”, thus, “bache” sounds like “bash”.)

Bonus bug!  

While I rested awhile on a picnic table overlooking the river, at the end of the River Fishing Trail, I was visited by this Stonefly adult (Order Plecoptera). This one is likely a Common Stonefly (Family Perlidae).

A Stonefly insect spends most of its life (one or two years) as a naiad in a stream or river, its flattened body against a stone or other object. Some species eat small animal organisms, others eat algae. It molts into gradually larger versions of the same thing. When it is fully grown, it climbs out of the water onto stones or other objects, where it molts into the winged adult. Common Stonefly species usually don’t eat as adults, are poor fliers that don’t move far from their watery origins, and the one here is likely nocturnal (I don’t know why it decided to rest on a picnic table in daylight.) 
Notice the long antennae from the head and the long wings, which it holds back against the body at rest. When flying, its four membranous wings are spread straight out from the sides. You can see two long appendages from the back that look like antennae. These are cerci, which serve as sensory organs in both the naiad and the adult.  The female adult Stonefly will lay a mass of eggs on the surface of the water, which will hatch into tiny naiads.

In the grand scheme of things and cycle of Life, the Stonefly adult and naiad are food for fish and other animals.

Above are photos of two types of Stonefly naiads, from The Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Insects and Spiders (Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 1980). Notice the filamentous gills along the body and legs, used to extract oxygen from the water.