Lazy morning on the Carson River

On my recent trip to Nevada, I spent a few quiet mornings along the Carson River, just outside of Carson City.  The river was pretty low for this time of year, reflecting the low snowfall in the Sierras last winter.  But during the hot spell that hit the area in July, the mornings on the river were wonderful.  The tall cottonwoods created a lovely, whispering canopy while the birds along the river provided a lovely symphony of chatters, chirps and song.  Dusty tracks of skunks, deer, bobcats, coyotes, toads, and beaver and other rodents let me know that many animals like to take advantage of this ribbon of green that runs through the Great Basin.

On this particular lazy morning on the Carson River, a family of mallards swam the still waters above Mexican Dam, while a Belted Kingfisher loudly patrolled the river banks.  I even watched as she chased a hawk away from the river, and I suspect she had a nest nearby.

I spotted many other birds, as I sat and watched the river meander by: Magpies, Western Kingbirds, California Quail, Black Phoebes, Mourning Doves, Canada Geese, just to name a few.  Recording along the river is a bit frustrating, due to a lot of commercial and private air traffic, and depending on the conditions, the distant roar of highway traffic.  But in the pauses between the noise, the wonderful sound of river life emerges, bringing peace to one’s soul and a reminder just how much we, and our fellow creatures, need wild space.

I enjoy sitting on the riverbank, watching the water swirling around the rocks, reflecting  ever-changing patterns of light.  I remember once sitting on the bank of a creek in the Chiricahuas.  I had hiked to this site with a friend, and as we sat down to watch the water, we noticed a huge ponderosa pine on the opposite bank.  It was dead and shedding dinner-plate sized slabs of bark, which lay like a skirt around its base.  After staring at the tree for a few minutes, my friend got up without a word and waded into the creek.  She picked up one of the slabs of bark from the opposite shore, plucked a grass stem and stuck it in a crack on the inner side of the slab.  She then carefully placed the slab in the water, and we watched this little boat – complete with sail – meander down the creek.  She continued on up the creek, making more bark boats and releasing them to the stream.  I watched the little boats as they followed the motion of the water, sometimes bobbing straight by, sometimes getting stuck in eddies for a while, before somehow managing to break free and continue their journey.  I realized I was watching a metaphor of my life; sometimes following a direct course, sometimes pausing in the eddies for awhile.  I seem to be spending more time in the eddies these days.

A river can teach you a lot if you let it.

For a view of the river in winter, see The dead-end river.

A longer version of this recording appears in the album, Across the Great Basin.

Recording notes: Recorded with Sony PCM-M10 and Audio-Technica AT2022.  Recording subject to amplification and filtering.