Sound familiar? If so, then you have probably seen the movie. If not, then allow me to borrow the phrase and introduce you to a river experience much closer to home than the namesake of the Hollywood version. So close in fact that many of us pass over it daily without so much as a glance as we travel here to there and back again. The river to which I refer is our own Big Blue River.

Henry County gives birth to this Indiana river. Its genesis begins in the northeastern fields of our province as a small, inconspicuous surface rivulet. Long before the existence of the river as we know it today, its course had been predetermined by ancient geophysical forces. Forces so great that the Blue River Valley as we call it was created as a result of the demise of a great glacier some 10-20,000 years ago. As the glacier retreated it stalled just north of where we call home, releasing immense amounts of melt water, carving, shaping and forming the land as it ever so slowly migrated to higher latitudes. The legacy was the creation of a valley and its river. It had been over 25 years since I last canoed the river, and the memories of the experience had dimmed with time. My interest to once again retrace those paddle strokes had been rekindled. The logistics were simple, a canoe with its requisite equipment, a vehicle for transport, a fellow intrepid explorer, and this small provincial “Corp Of Discovery” would be set to go. 

On a hot sultry afternoon in late June of last year, Jeff Ray and myself carried his canoe to the river’s edge, just west of New Castle. There we slid the canoe into the waters of the Big Blue after navigating the shoulder-high tangles of Giant Ragweed, Nettles and Ironweed growing along the river’s edge. I took up my position in the bow, and Jeff took his in the stern of the canoe. With muddy shoes along with the first signs of perspiration from the exertion of the launch we allowed the river to set our course, passively flowing with the inertia of the current. With only a few strokes of our paddles we found ourselves enveloped in a green tunnel of over-arching branches from the trees that lined the river’s banks. As we entered this verdant corridor there was a perceptible coolness to the air. It was a welcome relief from the heat we had passed from. The shade provided by the riparian habitat along with the moisture from the river combined for a pleasant reprieve.

As we slowly flowed southward with the current, at times passing low under half fallen trees, a Kingfisher took wing and gave its characteristic “rattle” call. It stayed with us, flying point for much of the trip. A few more yards and a Great Horned Owl dropped down from its daytime roost and flew low over the river directly ahead. With a few beats of its large wings, he landed on an overhanging branch of a Black Locust tree. There he sat, starring down at us with large expressive yellow eyes showing no fear as we drifted silently beneath his perch, no doubt wondering what type of strange creature was this. As we continued to drift past his perch, I glanced back to see his gaze still faxed on us. We humans are sometimes guilty of projecting our traits on our fellow creatures. Researchers tell us we should guard against such anthropomorphic tendencies; however, I could not help but wonder what this raptor was thinking as this strange apparition, which had visited his domain, disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

As we traveled on one could not help but take note of the diversity of trees forming the green corridor under which we were passing: Box Elder, Silver Maple Buckeye. Black Walnut, Hackberry, Green Ash, Red Oak, Sycamore, Cottonwood and both Honey and Black Locust to name a few. Sandbar and Black Willow were growing in dense groupings on exposed sandy flats along the river channel. Elderberry bushes were heavy with white bloom promising for a rich production of its small shiny magenta fruits. Sedges and grasses were growing in varieties too numerous to count. Emergent Arrowhead plants were staking their claim to various mudflats providing nutritious tubers as a food source to the wild denizens of the river. Thick copses of Riverbank and Fox Grapes carpeted the banks at many locations providing both nesting habitat as well as forage for many species. A single Butternut tree stood as a lone representative of its kind.

Our auditory senses were crowded with bird sounds. Avian vocalizations were many and varied. The metallic chink of the Rose Breasted Grosbeak, the burry song of the Scarlet Tanager, and the rich piping whistled notes of the Baltimore or Northern Oriole could all be heard. Eastern Phoebes were nesting under a number of the bridges we passed under and Wood Pewees were saying their names. Tree and Barn Swallows were engaged in their seemingly never ending aerial pursuit of insects too small for us to see, and Bank Swallows were nesting in cavities along the higher gravel banks of the river. The stately Great Blue Heron with its almost prehistoric look was both seen and heard, as well as its much smaller cousin the Green Heron. These two birds represent the silent stalkers of the shallows and are masters at the art of stealth and patience. Indigo Buntings, Yellow Warblers, Carolina Wrens and Red-eyed Vireos could all be heard but were too well concealed to be seen. In a tree just ahead of us the slow staccato voice of a Yellow-billed Cuckoo enriched our acoustic experience.

Butterflies known as “Flying Flowers” were in abundance. Spicebush Swallowtails, Tiger Swallowtails and Fritillaries all added splashes of colors. Silver Spotted Skippers and Angle Wings were floating from bush to flower in search of nectar. Dragonflies known as Darners and Skimmers were darting about. Their smaller cousin the Black Winged Damselfly with brilliant idyllic green coloration was present in profuse numbers. At times the river seemed to have a shimmer to it, reflecting the erratic movements of these aerial acrobats.

As we came around a slight bend we surprised two young Red Foxes. They immediately disappeared into the sanctuary of the tall vegetation of the riverbank. As we paddled past the point where they had been on the flat, we notice two freshly dug holes in the moist sandy soil. Digging for mussels, looking for food, or just playing, we will never know. Soft Shell Turtles were seen diving to the safety of the river bottom to the right of our canoe, and a Midland Painted Turtle tumbled from its perch into the water, not to be seen again. Frogs and crayfish, carp and more carp, minnows and other fish too small and quick to identify were seen, leaving only murky wakes and trails in their haste to find shelter in deeper water.

In spite of this din of natural sounds, coupled with the tune of the river, there existed a quiet solitude that cannot be described—only experienced. One must become part of the river to appreciate what it has to offer. The canoe was our portal, allowing us to partake of sensory experiences, which seemed alien to our location. The green tunnel through which we floated created a natural curtain belying our proximity to home.

All too soon the journey ended. We had arrived at the take-out point. We banked the canoe in preparation for loading off the river. A little tired from one exhaustive portage yet energized with the natural affiliation we had experienced. There are varying degrees and kinds of solitude. I had just experienced one of them.

As I stood on the bank looking back up river from where we had come, the appreciation of this river as not only a community resource, but as a vital part of the Natural Heritage of our region began to take hold. In a short two-hour trip the river and its environs shared their diversity of flora and fauna in a most surprising display. What appears to be just a thin line transecting a map, is in fact a living interactive, biotic community worthy of our stewardship. In spite of all the injustices and neglect that have been visited on this river over the many decades, it still provides us with an inherent quality to our community yet to be fully appreciated. It is our home, our community, and a river runs through it.