Blogger at confluence of Des Plaines River (left) and Kankakee River (right). (Photo by Bill Anderson)

One of the seminal moments in the history of Chicago was the summer day in 1673 when  a small party of voyageurs led by Louis Joliet and Father Jacques Marquette reached the headwaters of the Illinois River. They had ascended the river from its entry into the Mississippi and were now at the point where the Illinois began, at the confluence of the Des Plaines River flowing south from Wisconsin and the Kankakee River moving slowly west from South Bend, Indiana. These seven men opted to follow the Des Plaines and became the first Europeans to reach what is now Chicago. Forty-eight years later, Father Charlevoix recorded seeing a bison crossing the Des Plaines very near this spot in water so shallow that the animal remained dry above the knees.

For me, then, observing this confluence has long been a special goal. The one time I had made a serious effort was from the south bank that is occupied by a nuclear power plant and is thus off limits. It is possible, though, to see the place from the other side where a bike path parallels the Illinois and Michigan Canal.  But ideally the approach should be from water, as it was for those explorers over 300 years ago.

Three weeks or so ago, Dale Bowman sent me this photo of a peregrine falcon that his friend, avid angler (as well as computer programmer, accomplished photographer, and professional musician) Bill Anderson took from his boat. Dale wanted me to confirm the identification. Bill and I corresponded and I told him of my wish to reach the headwaters of the Illinois. (Call me Meriwether Greenberg) He liked the idea, and he, Dale, and I launched our own Corps of Discovery two Fridays ago (September 11).

We put in at the Big Basin Marina on the Des Plaines (near Rt. 55 and Bluff Road). I love being out on the water, for it allows a degree of intimacy with a world so different from the one I usually inhabit. Rivers are splendid living entities, manifesting emotions from serenity to raging fury. You are what you eat goes one aphorism and so it is with these sinuous waterways: they are the sum of the lands that feed them. The tendrils of the Illinois draw from an area of 28,070 square miles. Rivers have nurtured humans throughout history, for they slake our thirst, feed us, and facilitate commerce, yet they remain mysteries, hiding a world both invisible and hostile. The creatures they harbor are varied but known to us only when they wash ashore or we seek them with shockers, hooks and nets (even poisons, and historically dynamite).

The lower Des Plaines and upper Illinois were once almost lifeless, the consequence of being subjected to the effluent of Chicago in the early 20^th Century. But decades of hard work and billions of dollars later, they both have recovered to a significant degree. Bill spotted a bald eagle perched on a large tree. Great egrets, great blue herons, and double-crested cormorants crisscrossed the sky or stalked the shallows on the river’s edge. A red-tailed hawk sailed by with a snake dangling from its talons. And a short while later, an osprey circled overhead as it eyed the dark warm water for prey.

We worked our way slowly downstream, stopping to fish at promising points. This was only the fourth time I fished since I went with my dad decades ago. I was handed an open face spinning reel baited with a lure and began casting. I have always preferred the closed reel, since they can remain viable even when operated by spazz’s like me. And indeed pretty soon I had so tangled my rig, I was given another. Dale provided some instructions on casting, and I managed to catch a few fish, including my first ever small-mouth bass and striped bass. We wound up catching a total of five species- in addition to the two mentioned, they were large-mouth bass, bluegill, and flat-head catfish. (In case I forget, let me say now that these guys believe strongly in catch and release. And every fish released swam away with vigor.)

At the Dresden nuclear power plant there is a major discharge of warm water. And where the outflow abuts the calmer water of the river on either side, there are two seams. Both Dale and Bill knew that such a place held great promise and they skillfully aimed their lures to plunk into the best spots. First it was Dale who struck gold: an 18-inch long small-mouth bass. One of the biggest small-mouths Dale has caught in a while, he was ecstatic. But amazingly, not long after it was Bill’s turn: he landed a 20 incher. Dale said there are few bass that size in all the waters of Illinois.

Dale's large-mouth bass and Joel's small-mouth bass (Photo by Bill Anderson)

We passed the power plant, and there it was: on our left the Kankakee and straight ahead the Illinois, with its first lock and dam visible just downstream. As the watersheds of the two tributaries have become covered with the impermeable surfaces of civilization, the rivers have swollen over the centuries: a bison crossing today would be swimming. (Of course, it has been 200 years since a wild bison even gazed upon the rivers.) Woods covered most of the shoreline and the bluff opposite the Kankakee’s entrance is handsome but for the row of homes perched on its lip. Those unexpected residences bothered me more than the plant, violating my notions that the confluence was in some respects still isolated.

One of the many joys of the day was listening to the two experts talk about their passion, and witnessing their excitement when they caught their prize fish. And they were just as enthusiastic when I caught my more modest specimens. (Just like birders when an interested novice is participating.) The last few times Dale and I have been out we have gone birding- on this occasion, I was privy to his element and it was a real treat.  

As we were trying to get a good position for photos of the confluence, Bill asked me what the gull was sitting on the water towards shore. I started to tell him it was either a herring or ring-billed when the binoculars reached my eyes and I was simply amazed- the bird was a juvenile black-legged kittiwake. This is a bird that is unusual any time of the year around here, but it is most often seen on Lake Michigan in November, usually during a cold lake watch. So not only was this gull early, it was the first for Grundy County. The next day the bird was re-located and seen flying up the Kankakee River, which is probably the first time it has ever been seen on that river.

And to finally end this long post, birders went out on Sunday to look for the kittiwake. They failed in that quest, but found instead a Sabine’s gull in full breeding plumage. This is another species usually seen on lake watches. Hmm? Maybe I should just take up fishing.

Great egret fishing in Lake County, Illinois taken by Tim Wallace.