Rising waters offer both danger, opportunity
- John Lorson: The Rail Trail Naturalist
- May 14, 2021
- 1044
Mother and father goose lead their young across a flooded crop field in “full protection” formation. This family will fare much better than others who may have begun nesting only a week or two later in the spring, as many egg-laden nests have fallen victim to the sudden flooding of area wetlands over the past week.
It rained for eight of the 12 trips I made up or down the Holmes County Trail last week, and while I sometimes forsake my bicycle commute for an easy drive in the car (especially when there’s a good chance I’m going to end up soaking wet in both directions), I toughed it out the whole way through Saturday.
There’s simply too much to see at this time of year, and I’m afraid the day I’d decide to take it easy might be day a family of otters pops out onto the trail for a photo opportunity. I’m neither sweet enough nor wicked enough to melt in the rain, so I figure a good soaker every now and then can do little more than build a bit of character.
There’s a peaceful beauty to riding in the rain, and this year when the rains began, there also was a sense of relief. Many of the farmers I work with were genuinely concerned we might be headed into a drought — the early part of the spring was unusually dry, and the wetlands and vernal pools were low and getting lower. Even the area’s perennial marshlands that typically offer exceptional paddling and waterfowl viewing at the start of the spring migration were quick to lose their open water in the annual battle with emergent vegetation.
Then, in a single dip of the jet stream, everything seemed to change. Temperatures flipped from “July 80s” to “March 40s,” and the precipitation came right along behind. It rained, and rained, and rained some more.
There are frequent casualties when a wetland goes from “drought low” to “flood high” in the space of only a day or two at this time of year, and low-nesting and ground-nesting birds take the greatest hit. I’m sure many a Canada goose, red-winged blackbird and Virginia rail nest was lost to the deluge. There’s no rolling an egg out of harm’s way when the waters begin to rise. Hopefully, the flooding will recede in time for some of those affected to give it another go-round, but for some the opportunity for successful reproduction has been lost for the year.
Some species find unique opportunities within the rising water. It’s not unheard of to see carp scavenging in the dirt-brown pool of a flooded crop field. It’s bound to be a feeding frenzy as earthworms struggle to avoid suffocation under a foot or two of water as they escape the saturated soil. The enterprising bottom feeders need to be mindful not only to follow the receding waters back to within the banks of the stream, but also of the possibility of air attack. I watched a bald eagle make a meal of a 2-foot-long “cornfield carp” a few years ago, and it was quick and savage work.
Keep an eye out for displaced critters of all sorts along the edges of flooded-out areas. Small mammals like mink, weasel and fox that den on the ground will frequently do so near the water to be within easy shopping distance of the ground-nesting birds mentioned earlier, as well as a whole host of other delicious, nutritious creatures that call the wetlands home. The predators may well have their young families on the move to escape disaster and may, therefore, be a lot more visible than usual. I’ve seen more than one family of red fox reared in a culvert pipe, and I’m pretty sure any such momma fox is questioning her choices about right now.
I’ll wrap things up this week with a public service announcement that will mean nothing to those of you with enough sense to stay away from flooded roads and trails: Do not drive or ride through high water. This advice comes from a guy who has gone over the handlebars of a mountain bike on more than one occasion when a “shallow” stream crossing turned into a deep dive when I guessed wrong. High water on a roadway or trail could easily be hiding collapsed pavement or a blown-out culvert pipe. Don’t let yourself become a casualty. Just take the long way around. It’s likely to be scenic and certain to be safer.
Remember, if you have comments on this column or questions about the natural world, write The Rail Trail Naturalist, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email jlorson@alonovus.com. You also can follow along on Instagram @railtrailnaturalist.