Some time back I paddled across canvas. It was the end of October, four in the afternoon. Fall light ricocheted off hickories, elms and maples, absorbed their color, and splashed it back across the surface of Jack's Fork River. It was an artist's canvas of russets, reds and yellows.
A big blue heron served as scout. Each time it saw me dogging its trail, it took off lazily, powering those long wings like a B-17 bomber leaving a carrier flight deck. Gangs of delinquent sunbathing turtles snoozed on root wads, ignoring the heron's squawks. Their job description apparently included adding topographical relief to this floaty artist's palette.
For long stretches, the only sound was my paddle clumsily bumping against the side of the canoe. The heron shot a disgusted look my way--hey, you're about as quiet as a 1000 watt car stereo pounding out a hip hop bass line. Chastised, the Old Towne was soon a submarine on silent running.
The air gave my nose a kick in the pants. Wake up and savor this sweet smell, it said, because it's only going to be a memory when you get back to the city.
The one thing I don't recall from that day was the quality of the water itself. Such a pristine setting, how could the water be anything but clean?
Sadly today, just downstream, where the Jack's Fork joins the Current River, the water is anything but clean. At the confluence near Eminence, the water is now on the State's bad list. It has excessive levels of fecal coliform bacteria. Too much of this kind of bacteria is an indicator that there may be other pathogens and viruses in the stream that can be harmful to humans.
Unfortunately, it's not just this section of the Jack's fork that's in bad shape. A recent analysis of Missouri's streams and rivers by the state reports that as many as half may be impaired, meaning they do not meet one or more water-quality standards. Of the 10,489-stream miles that do not meet water-quality standards, approximately 10,012 miles show impacts from chemicals or the physical condition of the water. What's really sad is that 228 miles of Missouri streams do not support aquatic life.
Like a horse tethered to a carriage, the water quality of Missouri streams is hitched to land use practices. Polluted water comes from human and animal waste, naturally occurring toxins, as well as many chemicals in use today.
Whether it's sewerage overflow making its way into metropolitan St. Louis creeks, tons of sediment and lead tailings creating a mostly dead zone along stretches of the Big River, or run-off from parking lots and construction sites dumping into local streams, the data shows we are increasingly degrading the veins and arteries of our state.
Bad water quality is unfortunately not always noticeable. It can hide like a thief, slowly stealing our aquatic resources. That Missouri bumper sticker Where the Rivers Run is soon going to need a one word addendum.
Phil Helfrich is a community outreach specialist with the Missouri Department of Conservation.
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