Summer 2010 ~
At this writing, vivid pictures from a recent kayak trip on the lake are fresh in my minds-eye. As my boat cut through the water, a muskrat swam alongside me, as if to be scurrying home for dinner in another lane on the freeway. I was able to glide quietly toward a pod of the fowl for which this lake is named… until at once, they took graceful flight, just a few feet from my position on the water.
© 2010 Mike D. Anderson. All rights reserved.
There is a small body of water near our home in Saint Michael—Pelican Lake—which has, quite literally, been sentenced to death. You can read full details at CleanUpTheRiver.com or the website of the Minnesota DNR, but to make a long story short, Pelican is a lake that was both artificially and unintentionally created, and one that is scheduled to be purposefully drawn down and returned to its wetland status. It is not my intention to re-hash the “how and why” of the situation in this posting. Simply to reflect on the act of experiencing a wonderful lake… that is about to be essentially erased from the map.
There are at least two other “Pelican Lakes”—that I know of—in the state of Minnesota… one near Brainerd and another near Barnesville. But when a moniker was chosen for this young lake, the only obvious choice was to name it for the waterfowl that called it home. Because of the swampy shorelines, land-based predators were few. Because of the relatively warm, shallow waters, bluegills and other fish were plentiful and easy to catch… resulting in the perfect place for Pelicans to call home.
At this writing, vivid pictures from a recent kayak trip on the lake are fresh in my minds-eye. As my boat cut through the water, a muskrat swam alongside me, as if to be scurrying home for dinner in another lane on the freeway. I was able to glide quietly toward a pod of the fowl for which this lake is named… until at once, they took graceful flight, just a few feet from my position on the water.
As I paddled, I forced myself to reflect on the idea that I was seeing a place in a form that people who follow me might never see. As I mentioned before, this lake is scheduled to be drawn-down to little more than a slough. So, it was my chance to enjoy an environment that I knew would be erased within the next few years. When the lake is eventually drawn down, my kayak might be mired in mud or sitting on dry land... in the same place where it now moves fluidly through lily pads and cattails. The lake, as we know it now, will be gone. Relatively speaking, the end will come swiftly--within a two- or three-year period--which I think is a good thing. It will be a dramatic event for those of us who are familiar with this humble little lake; the change will be conspicuous.
Other lakes, rivers and streams all over the world are losing their lives, too, but not as the result of intention, so much as the consequence of over-development, under-management, and outright abuse and pollution. What makes their impairment less dramatic but more tragic is that it is happening so gradually as to not be obvious; even the people who are causing it are unaware that it is happening, because it is happening so slowly.
Kayaking over a lake that is about to vanish is a powerful experience, one that I will use to remind me that every place is, in a way, just that fragile. Absent due care, just as surely as if we drained or destroyed them on purpose… any lake, river, stream or ocean is at risk of a similar fate.
© 2010 Mike D. Anderson. All rights reserved.
