We all live downstream

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*This essay was first published in the June 2015 issue of  ABOUT … the River Valley Magazine.

 

By Johnny Sain

“Water water everywhere, nor any drop to drink…”

This line from “The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner,” a poem by Englishman Samuel Taylor Coleridge, perfectly captures the water situation in Arkansas and many parts of the South. Water everywhere but you can’t drink it.

Earth’s surface is mostly covered by water to the tune of 71 percent. But 97 percent of that water is found in the oceans and seas rendering it undrinkable and two percent is locked up in ice and glaciers. Simple math means that one percent is potable (drinkable) water. And of that one percent only a tiny bit is drinkable straight from the source. Of course we do have an abundance of potable water. Crystalline drinking water via treatment facilities is always at the faucet and taken for granted here in the U.S. and in other developed countries around the world. But abundance often leads to apathy and abuse. California, facing a drought of historic proportions, is a good example of this. Raising crops in the desert turned out to be a bad idea as the state literally dries up. Of course there’s more to it than overuse, but overuse and abuse is one problem that we can control.

The watery regions of the River Valley are somewhat like a desert mirage. Yes, the water will cool you off and it’s often teeming with life, but few are the bodies of untainted water. You can fish but you can’t just fry up your catch everyday. The Arkansas Game and Fish Commission suggests a limit for consumption of fish from many bodies of water due to methylmercury contamination. Methylmercury is naturally found in many ecosystem, but high concentrations are often a by-product of metal processing, burning of coal, mining, and community waste. Methylmercury moves through the environment in water and moves up the food chain as predatory fish feed on contaminated prey.

Methylmercury isn’t the only contaminate found in our  waterways, though. Our lakes, rivers, streams and ditches are crammed full of toxic stuff. Pretty much anything we put on our lawns, pastures, driveways, houses, roads and into our bodies will eventually wind up in the water. Overuse of fertilizers produce algal blooms that choke the life out of aquatic ecosystems. Pesticides and petroleum products kill vital aquatic invertebrates. And now we’re even causing sex-changes in fish. You read that correctly. Increased estrogen in waterways from various sources (some crop fertilizers, livestock operations and yes, human sewage) have started playing havoc with spawning habits of various fish even to the point of transforming male fish into females. Sounds like something out of science fiction doesn’t it? Sadly, it’s all to real.

It’s not that we are purposely polluting our most precious resource. On the contrary, you won’t find anyone opposed to clean water. It would be akin to finding someone opposed to oxygen. The problem is a lack of understanding that everyone and everything lives downstream from someone else. All that trash collecting at the Prairie Creek pump station on Bona Dea Trails is an ugly visual reminder of this.

Water, along with everything in it both good and bad, from your ditches and the potholes in your street is always on a journey to the lowest point. The recent flooding of the river serves as a good example. All that water didn’t come from local rains. Everything flowing through the creeks and streams in the Arkansas River watershed — a watershed encompassing nearly 170,000 square miles and starting with melted snow in the Colorado Rockies — eventually ends up in the Gulf of Mexico. The water pouring into Lake Dardanelle has drained off of countless pastures, yards and ditches, through thousands of feeder streams and hundreds of larger creeks in Colorado, Kansas, Oklahoma and western Arkansas. Now think about just the contaminants you put into your lawn. Think about the pesticides, herbicides and nutrient runoff from agriculture you’ve witnessed. Think about the oil slicks you saw in the parking lot this morning. All of that is in our water.

What are we to do? Outside of gutting our current lifestyle the only thing we can do is minimize the damage. We can limit the use of lawn chemicals and fertilizers, we can encourage responsible farming practices and we can put our trash in a receptacle. All of this starts with the realization of just how precious our fresh, sweet water is. There is no life without water and there is no human life without clean, potable water. Period.

Count your blessings, River Valley. We are home to crystalline mountain creeks, lakes full of fish and bottomland swamps slowly returning nutrients to the ecosystem by ancient and mysterious ways. All are treasures that should be passed down to our children and grandchildren in working order. But those treasures can be ruined by nothing more than our inattention and apathy.

Tagged out

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By Johnny Sain

Every Arkansas hunter knows what the phrase “tagged out” means. Arkansas game laws require deer and turkey to be tagged when brought to hand. The process involves removing a tag from your hunting license, filling it out with the appropriate information (time and date of kill, sex of animal, hunting zone, etc.) and then affixing the tag to the animal until said animal is transported home, checked through Arkansas Game and Fish via phone or internet, and processed. So “tagged out” equates to being done. You’re out of tags. You cannot legally go afield with intent to kill another deer or turkey.

In a perfect world “tagged out” means you followed the rules and killed only the allotted bag limit. But we don’t live in a perfect world. In a historically poor state like Arkansas, where subsistence off the land is as deeply ingrained as our love of the Razorbacks, game limits are often regarded as suggestions. Hunting and fishing in the Natural State is a birthright and was once a necessity, and skill in those arenas ranks right up there with… well I can’t think of anything that rates higher for those of us making up the outdoor culture. Putting meat on the table is the highest marker of that skill. So it stands to reason that the more meat you put on the table the higher your perceived skill level. Some of us have allowed this pioneer definition of prowess to define us today, and animals on the ground do not always equate to a punched tag.

Very often the first words uttered after a hunter  announces that he or she has filled all tags early in the season is a disbelieving “why?” from other hunters followed by  ”there’s still too much season left to do that.” We could easily blame our indiscretions on the culture and peer pressure, but let’s man up and put the blame squarely where it belongs. The sweetest voice of persuasion sings out from our egos.

And the justifications satisfy our guilt: “I did it the hard way,” “I didn’t kill my limit last year,” “look at all the people that didn’t fill any tags, I just took their share because they couldn’t,” “I’ve got to feed the family and (pick a number) just ain’t enough,” “we’ve got plenty (deer or turkeys) in the woods” and the list goes on.

Sometimes we portray ourselves as Robin Hood hunting the king’s deer that, by gawd and geography, really belong to us. After all, we know those Arkansas Game and Fish Commissioners are just a bunch of rich bureaucrats sitting in their heated and cooled deer stands passing 140 inch bucks on their million acres of private  hunting land telling US how many of OUR deer and turkeys we can take off of White Oak Mountain or our own little parcel of private land. They don’t own OUR critters. Damn the man! We’ll show em!

And we “show em” by the most juvenile form of retaliation, what equates to cutting off our nose to spite our face, and proving without a doubt that we in fact cannot manage the resources on our own.

You can color it any way you want, it’s still poaching. In the eyes of the law our proof of skill rates the same as those pathetic losers trotlining turkeys and sniping deer by moonlight. We are, in effect, stealing from other hunters, from our kids and grandkids and from ourselves. And this discussion isn’t limited to the glamor species of Arkansas. We are stealing anytime we kill an extra rabbit or wood duck, or keep a short fish on the stringer.

I disagree with many Arkansas Game and Fish Commission regulations. I think some are pointless, and I think some legal methods of hunting and management tactics are more damaging to the resource than an extra deer or turkey in the freezer. But there are other, better ways to work on changing those regulations we disagree with. Outlaw subversion changes not a thing in the rule book, and may even help cement those bad regulations in place.

The solution involves the creation of a new hunting culture and it starts, as change always does, within ourselves as individuals. Ethics is a tricky thing precisely because it involves removal of ego and petty justifications as we focus on the very selfless greater good. And the greater good is the foundation of the North American Conservation Model with its highest banner stating that all wildlife belongs to the public. This philosophy is the reason we hunters enjoy our opportunities to hunt and partake of the wild bounty. When we take more than our fair share we are symbolically spitting on the very ideas that allow us to go afield with a reasonable expectation of seeing game. It’s a self-defeating action.

Arkansas hunters and hunters everywhere else,  we’re better than that.