So just how deep is that water?

Several years ago I took a job locating some old "meadow lots" on a flat section of the Cathance Stream, here in Bowdoin, Maine. The Cathance Stream at this point is clearly an "old" waterway, with lots of meander, including some small oxbow backwaters. The parcels along this section of the Cathance were originally laid out for meadow lots. In the earliest days of settlement, grasslands were scarce, but the lowlands along the brooks and streams could be cut in late August to gather the meadow grass for winter forage for the horses, cattle, goats and sheep. Oftentimes the meadows in the area would be divided into small strips and included as part of several area farms. As the cleared lands became more plentiful, the meadow lots became more of a nuisance than a necessity. Many of these meadow lot boundaries have simply been lost to time, covered by generations of meadow grass, alders, beaver flowages and silt. I have worked on several such lots over the past 20 years and I have become proficent in finding even the subtle field evidence, led to it by thorough record research. This job on the Cathance Stream was just such a case study. A series of manmade drainage ditches, wire fence remains and White Oak trees led the way to the answer we were seeking. It was a winter job and the water level in the stream was very volitile. The beaver had been active and evidence of their work was everywhere. The main channel was crossed by at least one old dam that we could see. The water was high and nearly 1 foot of water was pouring over the dam. Mike and I thought that there was boundary evidence on the south side of the Cathance, so we headed for a nearby farm road to cross a bridge and work our way back to the job site. It took us nearly an hour of walking to work our way back to the stream, with several flooded backwaters blocking our path. When we were at the right spot I told Mike that we had to make our way to a small island area where I expected to find a fence or stonewall marking on old boundary. This day both Mike and I had rubber boots that covered our calves, but no higher. As we worked our way into deeper water we cut sticks to break the thin ice and to feel for any unexpected deep spots. Before long we had to make the decision to let the water go over our boots. It was a shock at first, but in a few moments our legs were numb to the icy water. All was OK as we waded across the backwater, nearing the island. The water was now at mid-thigh and getting deeper. I would not have gone so deep in January with these conditions by myself. Drowning was not a concern, but falling down and getting soaked would not have been a good idea. The truck was 3/4 mile away and we just can't predict how hypothermia will take over. But, the job was important and needed to be done, so we continued. Just when it seemed like the water wouldn't get any deeper, our sticks felt a deep channel ahead. Maybe a beaver channel, maybe manmade, but either way it would put the water above our belts. Well, that is where we drew the line. That fence or stonewall would just have to wait for the water to go down to be found. Mike and I worked our way back across nearly a hundred yards of flooded area until we made the high ground, and the long walk back to the truck. The old GMC couldn't heat up fast enough as we tried to regain feeling in our feet. A few weeks later, the ice was thick enough we determined after careful inspection. Mike and I crossed the frozen stream and quickly found the wire fence remains we had expected. It seemed so easy now as the water elevation had dropped several feet since our earlier visit. In the summer, the bugs and thick brush would have been a challenge, but now the frozen stream and lack of leaves made the job possible. There is an old Maine saying "You can't get there from here", well on that icy day in January, Mike and I found that to be true.

Mike "working the gun", and keeping his feet dry.