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Wednesday, July 22, 2020 The Nugget Newspaper, Sisters, Oregon
SCOUTING
the Northwest
By Scout Arnone
Stream health
I stood waders-deep in an
urban stream, running my
net back and forth through
the water, squinting and
studying the sparkling rip-
ples that blinded me. I felt
eyes on me; curious park-
goers who hoped to interact
with me in some way.
<Hey, you look like you9d
know! Is that a nutria or a
muskrat over there?= A man
shouted to me and pointed.
His granddaughter stared at
me blankly and continued to
lick her ice cream cone.
<Over where?= I looked
around.
<Over there! What is it,
do ya think?=
I scanned the neatly man-
icured landscape attempt-
ing to spot any movement
amongst the willow thickets.
<Oh yeah! Definitely a
nutria!= I called back to him.
I didn9t see it; I was trying
to focus on the task at hand,
but a nutria was very prob-
able for that area.
<Really? Looked like a
muskrat to me,= he replied
skeptically. The kid had
mint chocolate chip on her
nose.
<Ha! Definitely nutria!=
I said without looking up
from the streambed.
<How can you tell?=
<Because of 4 uh 4 the
way it is&.= My answer
surely didn9t satisfy them,
but they dropped the sub-
ject and stared at me in the
creek. The sand forming
neat, wavy lines was lus-
trously golden. Nothing
moved. I check my net for
any sign of benthic macroin-
vertebrates (the tiny snails,
beetles, and fly larvae that
indicate stream health).
The man piped up again,
this time to his granddaugh-
ter, <Look at how clean it
is!= The kid stopped lick-
ing her ice cream just long
enough to glance at the
water, <Doesn9t it look
nice and cool?= The girl
shrugged.
I didn9t have the heart to
tell them that it wasn9t nice
and was far from cool. The
water was warm (by stream
standards) without the shade
of trees to chill it, no plants
sprang up in its muddy
banks to cool the rocks that
would serve as homes for the
macroinvertebrates I sought.
Not to mention the stream
was quietly swallowing the
runoff of nearby streets, the
moss killer of nearby roofs,
and the gum someone spit
out in a fit of laughter. The
strategic placement of a few
large cobbles might have
worked to churn oxygen
into the water, but all I could
see was soft, golden sand.
My initial intent was to
secure evidence of the pres-
ence of pollution-intolerant
benthic (<bottom-dwell-
ing=) macroinvertebrates
(<large and spineless=) like
the caddisflies and dob-
sonflies, the beloved scor-
pionesque mayflies and
their fascinating subaquatic
PHOTO BY SCOUT ARNONE
A successful benthic macroinvertebrate survey complete with high-tech ice cube tray.
cocoon-mastering friends,
the stoneflies. Hell, I9d even
have settled for a gilled
snail.
My net turned up
nothing.
Readjusting my expecta-
tions, I readied my heart to
find any sign of the moder-
ately pollution-tolerant indi-
cators of stream health: My
fishflies, craneflies, craw-
dads, skuds, clams, beetles,
dragon and damselfies. Still,
nothing.
< O k a y, = I r e s i g n e d
myself. <We9ll at least hunt
for any living thing, even
if it9s the pollution toler-
ant creatures that don9t
rely on dissolved oxygen
in streams.= I skimmed
and skimmed and waded
for water striders, midges,
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worms and leeches. Even in
the filthiest streams, these
small players can survive.
All I retrieved was a solitary
leech, sucking the rubber on
my boots.
A righteous fury and
abiding sadness bubbled
inside me. Ice cream girl
looked on and the melted
sugar ran down her hands.
Her grandfather wiped her
face with a napkin as she
squirmed and writhed trying
to lick the sugary residue on
her cheeks.
I wanted to tell her
grandfather that clean was
not good, a blank slate is
not natural. There is so little
to be gained by wiping ice
cream from dirty faces and
enjoying streams without
bugs. The river was clean
by his standards because
he lived by what he could
see. But the water is toxic to
those of us who live by what
we taste: me, Ice Cream
Girl, and the fish.
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• Huge organic &
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