The Blocked Bridge on the LaBarque

Bridge over Doc Sargent Road

I've seen Roman aqueducts; they're very cool and they still work. This one on LaBarque Creek is more basic. I enjoy sidling down the sandy creek banks and hunting the fascinating fossils near this bridge on Doc Sargent Road. This area was once the shore of the great inland ocean, so the fossils are of marine plants. Imagine a time when plants, only plants, ruled the Earth! Was there love? Oh, there had to be! The rocks pictured below are from my latest hunt. Fortunately, fossils on rocks almost always lie fossil-side-up, making hunting a little simpler.

Yet this was the first time I actually  saw how one of the bridge's two ducts was clogged near to its "ceiling" with sand. Now I fully understand why in 2015 and 2017 the LaBarque, usually not much more than a stream, rose so quickly and forcefully over its banks and the adjacent road.

Seeing new and huge deposits of sand choking the creek, after those floods, did bother me, but it seems that Nature took care of them. This, though, I can't see a solution to.

Turtle Migration

Young male box turtles now cross roads and highways to find their own new territories, and most drivers slalom over them, with here and there a driver pulling over, picking up the turtle and 1) placing it on the safe road shoulder opposite, where the turtle had been heading or 2) placing it in his vehicle and driving it away to a fate unknown. "They eat bugs in basements," somebody told me. Anyway, walking on Doc Sargent Road at 7 a.m. I met a small turtle I picked up, whose plastron seemed abraded and injured--not much, but some. I was surprised because I had thought the plastron was just plates ("scutes") of dead shell--but no. Both the plastron and the upper shell ("carapace") actually have blood and nerve supplies.

I learn something new every day. Turtles have red blood like ours. This injury did not look lethal, but for turtles run over, if they survive, there are people who will fix broken shells and rehabilitate them.

An "End of Summer" Essay

The Summer of 2015 began with me exhausted and bedraggled, burnt out to the core, and spiritually dead. I teach year-round but took this summer off from teaching, my first summer off in three years, and made two great journeys: for the first time to the capital of my own country, Washington, D.C., and then the tour of Newfoundland and Labrador, strange wild Canadian places, as I've longed to see for four years. I got my spirit back. True, no money came in and all my accounts are kaput, but it's been worth it, worth it, worth it: I completed and published a new ebook (under another name), and drafted some new poems; returned some favors; yesterday, glorious weather, I fly-fished all day at Maramec Springs in Phelps County--only my 2nd fishing trip this summer (the first was two days before that). In my tackle box I found the last fishing license I bought: 2012. How did I let that happen? I joined a spiritual group; very helpful. The mammogram was normal for the sixth time in a row. I read books, actual books, which I never have time for, and magazines. I saw friends and met some new ones. I breathed deeply, even outside of yoga class. I bought a bottle of bourbon. I hunted and picked mushrooms, reorganized my computer files, sometimes simply lay on the carpet, relaxing. I went to concerts and a play. On a recent walk I took this photo of the horse farm on Doc Sargent Road.

There are 10 days of vacation left. I will spend them being worshipful and grateful.

The Basics

Here in eastern Missouri we had an easy December 2014, with one or two snowfalls, but are having a ridiculously easy January 2015 with, like, no snowfall (only some rain and a token bit of sleet), no ice storms, no below-zero temps, and highs regularly in the 40s and 50s. It's not the January thaw, because January never froze. Another good sign: a Yellow-Shafted Flicker at my feeder, on his way north. We can now take walks at 4 p.m. and be back before it's dark, enjoying January sun and shadow unmitigated by foliage, and scenery we're usually too cocooned to see, like this simple view -- this tallest tree is a sycamore--taken while walking Doc Sargent Road. Everyone I know is pleased. Do I speak too soon? Should I knock on wood so writing this won't hex us? 

The Kingfisher

I saw him from a distance, short blunt body, boldly crested head, waterbird's long bill, and he was within a few yards of LaBarque Creek: The first kingfisher I'd seen here in ten years. The creek is shallow and slow but it must provide what the kingfisher likes to eat or it wouldn't be there.

Excited, I approached, listening for the kingfisher's distinctive "rattle" of a voice. Heard it. It saw me coming and flew to the top of an electrical pole, leaving me only its silhouette. Wouldn't let me get close even to that, flying away over the bridge into the woods, rattling. I savored its voice for a while, and thought the voice followed me for a bit, but then I continued my walk past the creek along Doc Sargent Road and heard it no more.

On my way back, same route, I listened but didn't hear any rattle. It made sense: LaBarque Creek is slow, shallow and currently frozen in places; there's better hunting in the larger river not far away. I stopped on the bridge over the creek to listen again . Heard nothing. I felt blessed by even this rare scrap of an encounter with a kingfisher, and, filled with divine love, I said to its afterglow, "I love you."

Far away, a rattle. I smiled and knew that I am truly blessed.

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.

Doc Sargent, Revealed

Photocopied pages of a local-history book finally reveal the real Doc Sargent who gave his name to a nearby road. Dr. Jesse Sargent (1872-1952) was a country doctor who lived in a stone house with his wife on what became Doc Sargent Road; the house still stands. He is described as "a portly man with mustache and goatee who nearly always wore a gray suit" and drove a Pierce-Arrow. He loved children and from 1917 to 1923 held Christmas programs for them in his home; he also sang in the choir at the Presbyterian church. "For years," Doc got his "simple medicines" from the local "root digger," said to be a freed slave living in a log cabin no longer standing. He was, of course, sometimes paid in eggs or meat or whatever people had to trade for his services. Toward the end of his life, Doc Sargent moved to Springfield, MO, and died and is buried there.

Doc Sargent, Who Were You?

Doc Sargent Road is one of my all-time-favorite walking roads, a two-lane asphalt, about a mile and a half, that in summer is closely grown up with trees and grass and honeysuckle, and at certain points hemmed in by rock faces. Beautiful horse farm along it; also a private drive leading into a private housing development that I've never been into, because there's a sign says "Keep Out." (I've got one too, and I'm glad when people mind it.) Along the left side of Doc Sargent Road, the mighty LaBarque Creek or dribbling tributaries carrying the most pristine water in these parts; we want to keep it that way. Have inquired, but nobody can tell me who Doc Sargent was. Nonetheless it's clear that whatever he did, someone appreciated it.