The River is Messy

The river is awesome. The river is beautiful. The river is messy. 

It smells sometimes; sort of a chemical smell which for the most part I don’t really notice. Not that it is there all of the time, but… The smell can be accompanied by bubbling where the water moves quickly over an elevation loss, and there is one of these up from the house and one a quarter of a mile downstream. Not sure what causes this - most likely something unnatural in the water. Google says it can be the sign of a naturally-occurring organic matter decaying. That or the presence of something synthetic. 

But the smell and bubbles are not exactly what I am thinking about when I say that the river is messy. It’s messy in a falling apart and decaying sense. There are fallen trees leaning into the water. There are scraggle branches here and there. There’s mud. And moss-scum floating along - especially in summer. There are dead things. Dead fish. Dead deer. Dead leaves. Once a dead pig. But mostly dead leaves and bits of trees. To be honest, I’ve only seen a dead deer in the water once. And only one pig. No cows. 

There are scraggly branches precariously leaning against trees, some trees are bent over and twisted and in various states of decay; it’s raw. It’s real.

Some scraggle and a river cat.

Vulture

A lazy day on the river today with Jeff; and the birds of spring; and the vultures. 

They’re all over the place usually; flying high looking for dead things. Apparently they can smell the gasses emitted from decaying flesh from miles away, but I suppose when they catch a thermal and take their spots hundreds of feet in the air, there’s nothing much to smell but the slurry spread on the fields of West Lampeter. 

But today they are on the bank, watching me now, taking a break to make sure I’m not interested in what they found. I can’t see what these two found, but I’m certainly not interested.

But I am interested in checking them out; it’s rare that I get so close.

One is up the slope of the ridge a bit, looking at me, but pretty much still as its head moves around to take everything in. It later flies up to its own branch. The other, however, is up in a tree and is

not quite over the water. It grunts or sneezes or something and it releases a mist. Awesome!

Both of these creatures are massive and incredible for their ability to eat just about anything; something about stomach acid; and something about urine-soaked legs, and about featherless heads, and no septum.

But soon the osprey will be on the banks (might have seen one last week), and hopefully I’ll get to write about that.

Keep paddling!

(Too many semicolons?)

Jeff and the vultures.

Full Moon to Inspiration

The moon isn't full until tomorrow, but 98.2 percent coverage sounds pretty good to me.

I wasn’t thinking so much about going out, but when I looked out of the window and saw that thing in the sky and that it was mostly clear-ish, I was, like, “I guess I’m gonna go.” Faced with a couple of nights of forecast clouds and rain also provided a bit of inspiration. So hard to pass up a good night with the moon. 

And that’s the magic. Going out on the river is always an activity that is there and available. I can make a last-minute decision, and in 15, I’m on the river. And I do love to be on the river. 

This sort of unique access has made it possible for me to go out a lot, and until recently I have looked at time on the river in terms of experience. There are so many things that I have seen and experienced on the water beyond just the beauty of the river corridor, and I have mostly seen the value of getting out in these terms. 

More than just something that produces awe, however, recently I have come to believe that the power of the Conestoga River goes beyond that. As the place where I live along its banks has become part of who I am, the river has done this too. 

This place and the river and the communal or solo experiences they provide permeate every part of my life. They have informed much about who I think I am, how I fit in the world and even what this world could be - not only for myself but for everybody. 

Time out on THE river, or a river, or anyplace (mostly) free from the stories of the human-constructed spaces that we primarily inhabit has the power to transform. In this, I am reminded of A.O. Wilson’s biophilia hypothesis which maintains that humans have an innate drive to connect with nature and that they can be profoundly affected by this connection.

In so many respects I am just a visitor on the river. To claim that I am a part of it would be presumptuous and untrue. The herons alight when I go by, ducks feign injury to draw me away from their spaces and the geese and other birds sound the alarm when I approach. This does not negate the fact that I am drawn to it and that it inspires. 

It inspires me - and I bet it could inspire you, too. Reach out and let’s go see. 

March 31, 2026