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Author: Monica Clutch
Date: June 13, 2008
Location: Lower Hatchie National Wildlife Refuge
Photo © Monica Clutch/TNC
Previous entries in the blog
The final day on the Hatchie was an event I anticipated with combined eagerness and apprehension. Mike Martin and I had been planning our grand exit into the Mississippi River, envisioning a barge passing in the background as we skillfully maneuvered our canoe in a sleek path alongside the vessel, impressing the barge operators with our unsurpassed paddling technique and our fearless domination of the river.
In reality, we were more than a little concerned about high winds and flood level flows that hurled huge trees downstream as if they were popsicle sticks. The extensive flooding had submerged entire fields along the river, turning farmland into lakes complete with white-capped waves.
Monica and Mike early in the day. Photo © Paul Kingsbury/TNC
The possibility of a standing wave at the mouth of the Hatchie was another cause for concern. A standing wave is caused when water flowing in one direction meets water flowing in another direction, similar to the whirlpools formed by eddy currents. A deceptively small standing wave has no problem overturning a lightweight canoe and can even cause problems for larger watercraft. More than one experienced river-guru urged us to exercise caution on our final trip.
Colleagues Join Us
Mike and I had several requests from interested individuals to join us on the final leg of our journey. While very appreciative of their willingness to be involved, we declined all requests, for safety reasons, except for that from our Nature Conservancy conservation writer, Paul Kingsbury, and our conservation coordinator, Rob Bullard. Paul and Rob are both fit, Paul with the wisdom of a seasoned outdoor enthusiast and Rob with the tireless energy of youth. Most importantly, given our somewhat unpredictable river situation, they were Conservancy employees, which meant they could not hold us responsible for their safety if they chose to go along! As it turned out, they were both proficient canoeists and had no problems keeping up with us, nor handling the windy conditions.
Conservancy staffers Rob Bullard and Paul Kingsbury joined us on the river. Photo © Monica Clutch/TNC
Our journey the last day would include sightings of many more snakes on logs and in trees than we had observed in the past. The sightings included our first of a poisonous cottonmouth snake. We found him swimming in a very determined manner across the river from the south bank to the north bank. Cottonmouths are generally reputed to be aggressive by nature and often are targeted as worthy of elimination. There is even a common saying about cottonmouths that “the only good snake is a dead snake.” I have been fortunate in my years in conservation, having never encountered a particularly aggressive poisonous snake. In my experience, most snakes prefer to avoid humans as much as humans prefer to avoid snakes. Still, I respect them as an animal with the capability of using natural defense mechanisms, and definitely give them their space.
This is the cottonmouth we saw crossing the Hatchie. Photo © Paul Kingsbury/TNC
Wildlife Amid the Floodwaters
As for other wildlife, we saw the usual players, with the addition of some egrets and a barred owl that passively watched us float past. The pileated woodpeckers were up to their hammering and shouting, as were the flickers and other woodpeckers. A vulture roost on an electrical tower gave us the opportunity to see many of these large, interesting scavengers up close. We also heard many songbirds high in the trees alongside the river and saw some solitary waterfowl (solitary since the mate was likely sitting on the nest).
The forest along our final stretch of the river was quite spectacular. This section of the river shares much of its boundary with the 9,400-acre Lower Hatchie National Wildlife Refuge. Some of the land has been fairly recently acquired, several tracts purchased with the help of The Nature Conservancy. The forest is quite a legacy for the American taxpayer, who ultimately owns this federal refuge. The trees are large and nearing maturity, and the forest is replete with a diversity of plant and animal life. Even Mike, seasoned forester that he is, a man who has seen some of the most beautiful forests on earth, shared my enthusiasm for the vista.
Flooded forest along the Hatchie River. Photo © Paul Kingsbury/TNC
We were also overcome and awed by the lake-like conditions in which we found ourselves paddling. I had joked once on a flooded day that we might lose the river and end up paddling into someone’s cornfield. We actually almost managed to do just that. That’s how far the river had flooded. The nature of the river was such that meander cutoffs, fencerows, and open expanses alongside the river all looked remarkably similar.
As we rounded a bend in one location, it became questionable whether we were still in the river or in a narrow field. Another time, as we paddled across the unbroken expanse of floodplain where river and plain were one, it was difficult to tell whether or not we were actually in the channel of the river. Both circumstances were remedied thanks to that modern technological marvel, the GPS, which allows one to have detailed topographic maps in hand at all times. All one must do is ensure that the black arrow, which represents your location, is pointed in the right direction on the right path.
One of the flooded fields we encountered. Where is the river channel? Only the GPS knows. Photo © Paul Kingsbury/TNC
As could be predicted, making detailed observations during a flood event such as we were experiencing was somewhat difficult. Nature, however, with its tendency toward following predictable patterns, helped us out with our identification of sandbar locations. Fast-growing willow and red maple typically are among the first bottomland hardwood species to colonize a sandbar.
In my previous blogs, I’ve discussed how a sandbar forms along the inside bend of a river. At some point, enough sand accumulates that the number of dry days is sufficient for vegetative growth, starting first with grasses and leading eventually to colonization by trees. The young trees, mostly submerged except for their tops, stood as witnesses to the position of a sandbar under the water. We were frequently canoeing that day along segments that had been dry for most of the year.
Approaching the mouth of the Hatchie — and its confluence with the mighty Mississippi. Photo © Monica Clutch/TNC
We Reach the Mississippi
As we neared the end of the journey, the river grew in magnificence. Already very wide near its confluence with the Mississippi River, the additional feet of floodwaters added to the expanse of the Hatchie. Debris was plentiful in the water, and unfortunately the usual glut of humanly-contributed trash littered the landscape. I have been in the woods on several occasions when I wondered how so much trash ended up in the forest. I failed to consider the ability of water to carry the trash deep into the forest during a flood.
After what seemed like a great deal of very exhausting paddling against a fierce headwind (and like most headwinds it seemed to be a headwind no matter which direction you faced), we finally could see the mouth of the Hatchie River in the distance, and — on the horizon — the barely visible outline of a radio tower standing across the river in Arkansas. Our plan was to venture just far enough out into the Mississippi River to say we had “canoed into the Mississippi River,” then to make our way into the trees that would normally be the shoreline when the forest was not flooded. This would allow us to avoid the dangerous eddy currents that can tip a canoe in rough conditions such as those we faced.
Monica and Mike drawing into the trees along the Mississippi River shoreline. Photo © Paul Kingsbury/TNC
As we emerged from behind the Hatchie Towhead, we beheld the Mighty Mississippi. It is mighty indeed, and being on the Mississippi in a canoe enables one to fully grasp the sheer magnificence of the river. It is amazing how very much water is flowing downstream into the Gulf of Mexico. It is truly an enormous quantity of water.
It is even more amazing that humans have been able to alter the flows of such a powerful natural force, although much less surprising that there have been times the river has managed to overcome attempts to control her flow. The Mississippi of course is not just one of the great natural wonders of the world. It’s also an economic driver through the large amount of transportation, commerce, and agriculture that the river enables.
Recognized as one of the “Great Rivers” of the world by The Nature Conservancy, the Mississippi River is undoubtedly worthy of special protection status. Despite having been compromised by channel alteration and sediment and nutrient overload, the Mississippi has attracted a great deal of conservation interest in recent years, and restoration resources are focused, rightly I feel, on this river. Indeed, our work in the Hatchie River watershed and other tributaries to the Mississippi benefit the river; protecting the greatness of such an important global river justifies much of the stream restoration work we perform.
Monica and Mike on the Mississippi with barge in the background on the right. Photo © Paul Kingsbury/TNC
The Finish Line
As we finished our journey, a barge quietly passed in the background. It was a mail-order ending to a trip that had taught us so much about river ecosystems, about the resilience of nature, about our own fragility as individuals and as a species, and mostly about the need to continue or efforts at protecting a unique reminder of the great bottomland hardwood forests that once comprised the majority of the lower Mississippi River valley.
This remnant habitat is not so easily publicized due to its remote nature and lack of flashy tourist attractions, yet it is revered by the local people who were raised along its muddy banks, swam in its pools, and fished the holes passed down from previous generations. It is a subject of interest to governmental and non-governmental organizations who strive to conserve the Hatchie. It is important to the timber industry, regardless of the scale of operation, many tracts providing valuable habitat due to the diligence of owner/operators in using best management practices in their harvest plans.
As I was loading up the canoe for the final time, having had to canoe across two fields to get to the road on which we parked the truck, all river-access roads in the vicinity being underwater, I gazed one last time out toward the Mississippi River. I will soon be canoeing the river again, in less difficult conditions, but I know I will always think back on this particular canoe adventure every time I hold a paddle in my hand.
Monica and Mike reach the finish line at the end of a long but satisfying day. Photo © Paul Kingsbury/TNC
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank the following individuals for the role they played in making the Hatchie Expedition a success, starting with Mike Martin, without whom this trip would have been much more difficult and much less enjoyable. I learned so much from you, Mike, and am honored to call you my friend. Thank you also for your invaluable mapping expertise. Paul Kingsbury, who posted the blog and was a talented and fearless editor with unsurpassed patience. John Ross for GPS support. John Gallaspy for providing wisdom, offers of assistance and for helping TNC acquire lifejackets. Richard Day, Laura Jumonville, and Rob Bullard for a day on the river. Special thanks to my TNC colleagues and donors who supported and encouraged the adventure. Thank you to my colleagues at the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, TWRA, TDEC, USGS, NRCS and others who work hard to ensure the health of our public treasures. And finally, a BIG thank you to all the landowners and river enthusiasts who care enough about the Hatchie River to make the whole thing worthwhile and possible.
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