Marianne Olson

Before the day of the first Ecology canoe trip arrived, my reaction to the venture resembled that of several of my friends: Why so early in the year? How will I get my homework finished? What do we know about ecology that justifies an exhausting all-day field trip? I was terrified that the long list of species names would completely abandon me and I would fall behind in the group and on the identification list. Although I was excited about the experience and was looking forward to a day away from campus, my concerns remained.

Despite my apprehension, I found the actual atmosphere supportive and enjoyable. I am not a canoe “pro,” but neither were many others, and it was somewhat relaxing to run into trees and slip in the mud with my classmates. I also found that the species identification was not a burden on my trek but a way to relate to the environment we witnessed. Much like sketching a painting at an art museum, examining trees’ bark and leaves brought out the distinct features of the individual species. After experiencing identification, sand, mud, and cypress knees together, both my classmates and the subject matter possessed a new life that ventured outside the confines of collegiate life.

The second trip, down the lower part of the Wolf River, had a slightly different feel. The species ID was barely mentioned; perhaps this was because we hardly saw any of our plants or insects. Catalpa, ironweed, baldcypress—none of them struck us the way they had the week before. The elevated banks kept many of the obstacles through which we had passed away from us, but also added a new hurdle: fallen trees. My assumption is that as the banks grew farther apart and the riverbed lower, trees living on the banks lacked the support they needed and collapsed into the river. My partner and I recognized another feature we had taken for granted in the Upper section, which had not crossed our minds until it was gone: water depth. Even in the middle of the river, far away from the shore, our paddles got stuck in the sand. This factor combined with the fallen trees led to many instances where we had to simply climb out of the boat and haul it ourselves. Walking through the canoe and getting stuck in the sand detracted from the fun of being on the water and made the experience tedious. The reward was also not as great as expending energy paddling through the Ghost Section—it felt like just a river.

Although Monday morning I loudly complained of a sore back, itchy legs, and fingers so cramped they could hardly write, I wholeheartedly appreciate the chance to see a physical, “real life” demonstration of academic discussions. Even though I am spoiled after the weeks of no Tuesday lab, venturing outside of Rhodes was unexpectedly encouraging and I am looking forward to the rest of the class.