The Corona Diaries Vol. 60: There is, one knows not what sweet mystery about this creek

(early July 2022)

(Let your reading be carried astern to the prelude.)

As Tennyson observed, nature is red in tooth and claw. I was reminded of this on a bike ride when I spied a cat chasing a mouse in the middle of the street ahead of me.

The cat did eventually get its prey.

I love to paddle forbidden creeks, and land on arborous coasts.

More recently I had some encounters with nature that were decidedly less bloody. I took a Monday off from work and biked a couple blocks to my local boat rental joint on the shores of Lake Monona and rented a kayak. Despite having lived in the Four Lakes area for decades and just a couple blocks from a creek for several years, I’d never used one before so I figured it would prove to be a fun and interesting adventure. My goal was to paddle up Starkweather Creek and it was the perfect day to do so with the sun shining and the temperature only in the mid-70s.

I put in on the lake and paddled the short distance to the mouth of the creek. At first I was a bit wobbly but, after tacking the small wake of a boat successfully, I felt steady and more confident. There were a couple fellow paddlers out on the creek and an occasional fisherman on the shore, but it was just me and Mother Nature most of the time. I was happy to find that the weed and algae levels were rather low with only 1 fairly short section being choked with vegetation.

Well, that’s not quite true. While there may have been no other people around, I was surrounded by life. The first non-human animals I noticed were all of the ducks.

Close to my bow, strange forms in the water darted hither and thither before me; while thick to the rear flew the inscrutable seagulls.

There’s an especially high concentration of them near the intersection of Starkweather Drive and Dawes Street. I suspect they congregate there because that section of shore has a lot of shade trees on it and there’s a house near the intersection that has several bird feeders out front where I’ve witnessed many a duck gorging itself at the seed smorgasbord as disconsolate birds looked on.

It’s a real mallard gauntlet. They’re on both sides relaxing and preening, they are swimming in front of you and behind, they fly over you – just everywhere.

While no creek critters are exactly enamored of humans, they are definitely more tolerant of us when we are out on the water instead of approaching from the shore. Thusly I was able to get some decent pictures of the ducks including these portraits.

Next I noticed all of the painted turtles sunning themselves on rocks and branches. They’re small and tend to blend into their surroundings well so I only noticed one here and there at first. But, when I looked harder, I discovered that they were all around me.

Consider the subtleness of the creek; how its most painted creatures glide under water, unapparent for the most part, and treacherously hidden beneath the loveliest tints of azure.

 

When my kayak approached a group of them, most of the turtles would either leap forwards or drop backwards into the safety of the water. But there was always a brave soul or 2 that would stick around and check out the intruder.

 

I like this next photo because you can see how the one on the right retracted its front legs.

 

Before long I was at the spot where the west branch of the creek splits off and heads towards the airport but I kept my course on the east branch. I thought that I’d read that you couldn’t paddle beyond Highway 30 to the north and either had to turn back or portage your kayak. I needn’t have worried as a fallen tree blocked my progress before I got close to the highway so I turned around.

Not knowing how long I’d been out or how burned my legs were getting, I headed down the west branch.

Drifting past more turtles and taking pictures, I noticed a bird in the cattails and took a snap.

I had no idea it had turned out so well until I got home. Consulting my trusty Birds of Wisconsin book at later, I discovered that it was a female red-winged blackbird.

Just ahead on the shore in some poor soul’s backyard a gaggle of Canada geese were lounging, preening, and no doubt popping all over the place, as is their wont.

I paddled another half a mile or so before turning back. With the sun pounding on me, I was getting a bit red. Cruising under the bridges was a nice break from having the sun beating down upon me. Despite the sunburn, I was still having a blast as it was just so pretty out on the water.

I saw the opening maw of hell,

With endless pains and sorrows there;

Which none but the fish there can tell—

Oh, it plunging to despair.

As my kayak slowly drifted around a corner just short of where the west branch meets the east, I was startled to see a great blue heron having lunch. I took one photo and tried to take more but the camera refused. I silently cursed the device as I pushed the button to no avail. A second later I realized that in my haste to get a photograph, I had accidentally switched the camera from take a picture mode to view your pictures mode. Oops!

I moved to set it back but the bird was off like a prom dress around the corner and out of sight. The photo I took was out of focus but you can still see it and its lunch well enough.

The rest of my paddle back to the beach was uneventful. The fishermen I’d seen on the shore were gone, although the bridge that connects the 2 sections of Olbrich Botanical Gardens had several people on it looking down at the water.

I found it to be a bit windier out on the lake than it was earlier and I had to paddle harder to keep from being blown far away from shore. Beaching the kayak, I moved to get out and discovered that I still very much had sea legs. So it took a little extra effort to get them out and stand up without falling over.

Despite my poor legs getting quite a bit more sun than they could handle, I had an absolute blast and look forward to doing another paddle. Perhaps I’ll try to make it out to the airport next time.

********

My latest venture to the movies was with a group of friends to see the 1982 version of The Thing, directed by John Carpenter. It was back in theaters for its 40th anniversary.

While I have seen it many times over the years, I think this was my first on the big screen. When it’s hot out, I try to watch movies & TV shows and read books that take place in colder temps so The Thing’s Antarctic setting really hit the spot on a balmy night. It is a total creepfest and I love every minute of it. You may recall in a previous diary entry that I had read the source material for the film, the novella Frozen Hell earlier this year.

In the opening, an alien spacecraft is seen careering towards Earth. We then cut to some frantic Norwegians in a helicopter chasing a dog across the snowy wastes. They attempt to shoot it but the hound evades their bullets. We eventually learn that the Norwegian researchers found the crashed U.F.O. and had recovered one of its occupants from the ice. Unfortunately for them, the alien wasn't dead, it merely slumbered.

When it awoke, the creature exercised its skill of being able to assume the form of other beings. The dog was actually infected by the alien, hence the attempt to kill it. That having failed, the alien begins to infect the denizens of the American research station.

No matter how many times I’ve seen the movie, the scene where the de facto leader, MacReady, tests his compatriots' blood to determine who is human and who is an alien simulacrum always scares the living crap out of me.

If too long goes by between viewings, I forget who the alien is which makes it all the more scary.

We need more movies that take place in the winter/in cold, godforsaken climes at the theaters in the summer.

********

Bonus photo this time is of the front porch of a house near our favorite ice cream parlor. That poster of Greta Garbo has been there for a while now. No clue who put it there, it’s just been a fixture on that block for as long as I can remember.

(Float

downstream

to

the

postlude.)