Erosion Control on the LaBarque

LaBarque Creek has changed over the years, and the side nearer the highway, when it was in full flood, eroded way into the clayish soil until there was a 6-foot dropoff at the creek bend. A daydreamer walking in that meadow (formerly a baseball diamond) could have taken a step like Wile E. Coyote and plunged right into the drink. The Divine property is adjacent to newly public land, and the Missouri Department of Conservation came to here to stabilize this creek bank. Concerned about the same erosion, Demetrius and I had tried to plant native trees there some years ago. We had the right idea but wrong approach.

First, the conservation people cleared that meadow of its cedars, which are invasive and non-native trees here, but instead of letting 'em lie, anchored them to the creek bank sidewise and halfway in the water, as you see in the photo. They act like tree roots, capturing natural debris that helps rebuild the creek bank, while serving as habitat for fish and other water creatures. They filled in some of the slope with dirt. And then some volunteers planted, like, a thousand willow trees which will grow quickly and further stabilize the creek bank. You can see the willow slips, just about six inches tall, in the meadow, planted in rows, croplike.

This is green creativity at its best!

They Say These Things Smell....

I met a muskrat today in a swimmin'-hole type area in LaBarque Creek that is otherwise mostly dry--the drought continues--and was surprised because I'd never seen a muskrat in the creek before, common as they are in Missouri. Beavers, yes; snapper turtles, yes; water snakes yes; egrets and herons, yes; muskrats, no. Maybe about eight inches long not counting a long black tail. Nibbling on leaves attached to some vines, he or she ignored me until I switched the camera to video, making a "bing" noise, and splash, off swam my photographic prey, paddling a bit (pictured), then as I cried, "Hey, wait!" it dove and fled like a torpedo. Walked about a quarter mile farther up the road and turned back, and found him/her again, nibbling on leaves. I fussed with the camera, got 13 seconds of video, just so you could see it really swims and it's real, and then moved to get closer and maybe sniff that famous musk--and splash, it swam under water someplace inaccessible. Camera shy. Next time I will look for its lodge and will commandingly say to it, "Take me to your leader." They say the trappers liked its fur and the peak time to trap and collect them is in December, doubtless right after the office party.

The Secret Glade

LaBarque Creek Conservation Area off Doc Sargent Road now has a well-marked, three-mile "primitive" "moderate to difficult" loop trail. That's putting it mildly. Be prepared for lots of uphill, carry a hiking staff, and bring water because the loop will take two solid hours. But halfway along the trail, high up, is this marvelous secret glade, and being there was worth all the slogging and sweat.

What's a glade? It's a rocky clearing or "outcropping" you'll find up in hills or mountains, home to spring wildflowers and water features like this basin. Because there's mostly rock and little soil, few trees grow in glades, so it's open to sunlight, and I even found a few prickly-pear cacti. A lake up in the mountains always seemed impossible to me, but this little one in the conservation area is a scale model of how it's done. The water runs from here into a pretty little LaBarque Creek tributary, arched over with trees, that forms one border of the conservation area.

High and Mighty

Flooding is the new normal. It's been raining hard six days out of seven, and was tornadic near here (close call). Can hardly recognize this usually gentle tributary of the LaBarque that runs through the LaBarque Conservation Area, and now rushes about three quarters of a mile along the road you see up top, Doc Sargent Road. Photo was taken this morning before it began raining again. And then again! Downstate the water is higher. A rough April weatherwise, I think, for everyone. If it really really floods, I will take and post lots of dramatic disaster photos.

Bridge Out

The Young Conservation Area's Taconic Trail has been impassable since the flood of '09 -- flash flooding, not like the long dreary soaking of '08 -- when its footbridge across LaBarque Creek was torn loose and ended up some yards downstream. A rare proof that the little LaBarque can be mighty and mean. Beyond the bridge is the most interesting and elevated part of trail -- with a fishing pond on top of a hill. To get back on the trail, back up, find thinner brush and wade across the creek when you find it in a slow and shallow moment.

Pond on the LaBarque

Near the intersection of Highway F and St. Joseph Infirmary Road is a medium-sized pond. Someone made an earthen dam on the LaBarque and put one lone park bench on top of it, and if you sit there today this is what you will see. As always, the reflection is as enchanting as the reality. But aren't they both reality?

LaBarque School, Oct. 19, 1907

A reader with ties to LaBarque Creek, MO shares this precious photo. His grandmother holds the slate scripted with "LaBarque School, Oct. 19, 1907"; her older sister, in a matching outfit, stands next to her. Girls' surname is Leder. This photograph is copyrighted and may not be used without permission.

Old LaBarque Schoolhouse: Found!

Yes, the LaBarque Schoolhouse is still standing and it's being used as a garden-tool shed for the series of 1990s "I deserve an estate" type houses, on big rolling lawns, built around it. The painted words "LaBarque School" are very faintly visible above the door; so very faintly that the camera eye could not capture them for you, but trust me, in the sunlight, in person, they are there. This building stands near the intersection of Hwy FF and John McKeever Road, behind a fence and some trees which partially obscure it. I have lived here 10 years and never noticed it until someone told me where to look for the old schoolhouse.

A commentator on this blog said he has a 1906 photo of his mother at this school, so the structure must have been built before then, but my guess is that the building was rather new at that time. Also the stucco coating is recent; on a piece of wall where it is chipped away, you can see that the original building, or at least its foundation, is native stone.

Snapper

Had no idea after 8 years living here that a snapper resided in LaBarque Creek shallows. Only because he or she stirred a little did he break up his perfect algae-coated camouflage and show himself. He was approximately 14 inches at the widest point, and I gave him lots of personal space. Small bluegill darted near him but not quite within reach. Watched for a while to see if the snapper would try to grab them. No; he/she was patient, very patient, waiting for one of the fish to be stupid.

Fossil Fields

The bed of the mighty LaBarque Creek is a motherlode of fossils and a rockhound's Eden. The rocks are a perfect Chex Mix of limestone, sandstone, shale, chert (sometimes resembles arrowheads!), dolomite, hunks of iron, hardened clay, and marble. I find that the rocks with fossils are almost always turned fossil side up. Most fossils here are those of ancient marine plants, both simple and leafy, and simple animals, sort of like coral, called crinoids. My guess is that what you see in the close-up photo is crinoids. I don't know how or why I sleep when there is such cool stuff not 200 feet from my door.

Busy Beavers

Beaver dams create deep diving pools that are inconvenient for their predators. Here's the new beaver dam on the creek, and a close-up of a slender branch they lopped and stripped with their teeth. The bark was food; the stick is building material. Back in '01 on a moonlit night a friend and I crept down to the creek and watched a beaver clan at work.

It sounds like: Crunch crunch crunch crunch, Ker-PLOOP! (that's one of the beavers diving into the creek). He or she then swims silently, along with the current, head above the water, nosing along a branch, either stripped or with bark. He or she gets it to the dam area, and the engineer beavers take over from there.

The last beaver dam here was built in 2001; it was three times this size, strong enough to walk across the creek on, and so tightly built a branch could hardly be pulled from it. The beavers of '01 felled trees a foot in diameter (crunch crunch crunch) and permanently changed the course of the creek. A torrential flash-flood destroyed their dam and they moved on, and there haven't been any more until this year. They work mostly with slender new trees, so this dam isn't quite as spectacular. A conservation guy told me not to worry about the fallen trees, because if beavers chewed them down, that was nature.