The River

A catfish. When people ask why I came to Iowa I sometimes reply, "A catfish." Sure, there are more substantive reasons why I moved, but I did come because of a catfish. Last Spring, when I visited, the river had already pushed its boundaries and overflowed the banks. I walked along the swollen river watching bubbles cruise downstream, it had been too long since I just sat and watched water move. The still shoreline began to reveal ripples and then I watched as an enormous catfish winnowed on the submerged grass. It didn't swim, but just calmly splashed around and that was when I noticed myself tearing up. Crazy, I know. But it was a beautiful sight. I forgot how much I enjoyed just watching nature.

Not since living near the Kansas prairie had I sat still and took in the sight of nature happening in my own community. Ok, there was the owl in Denver that stopped me in my tracks. And the foxes at school that made me pray for their suburban survival and ask forgiveness for "developing" in their habitat. I know this seems a little ironic that I moved to Iowa for the nature, after all, I lived in Denver, with the Rocky Mountains in my backyard. But it seemed I could never get comfortable in Colorado to just watch nature in or around my community. So when I saw the catfish in the river, it came back to me, like riding a bike, I remembered what it was like to just watch nature happen.

Today, I drifted along the path that parallels the river on my walk home. I watched the mini icebergs float downstream melt into whitecaps in the waves under the bridge. The mallards are beautiful. The females' browns are so defined, as if you can see each feather. The males' blues and greens flirt with your eye. Overhead, a bald eagle circled the waters and did a flyover my head before it landed on the perfect tree branch across the river. Each stroke of its wings was confident, purposeful. It is as if eagles fly with destination in mind.