CONVERSATIONS with a HYPOXIC DOG (CwHD) is a weblog about words and language and other inanities. CwHD
began May 1, 2017. Besides thematic essays, the site provides a
vehicle for sharing my own words and language. In July, 2017, I
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Meandering
Rivers
are sinuous creatures, possessing tenacity, ingenuity, and supple
grace. By definition, a river is a large body of water flowing in a
channel to the sea, a lake, or another river. Most of the synonyms of
the word describe rivers of various size or character: watercourse,
stream, brook, rivulet, rill, freshet, creek, burn, billabong, beck,
wadi, arroyo. The specific meaning of each of the terms changes with
location. Local definitions can be quite different. A creek in Maine
is not a creek in Oregon.
Upper
Salmon River, photo by gv simoni
James
Fenimore Cooper, noted author of The Last Of The Mohicans
and many other novels, had this to say:
'Creek,'
a word that signifies an inlet
of the sea, or of a lake, is misapplied to running streams, and
frequently to the outlets of lakes.
Cooper
lived in upstate New York in the mid 19th century, well within the
orbit of New England pedantry. The quote is from Cooper's book The
American Democrat which was
published in 1838.
By
1859 the definition had begun to broaden and generalize. The
Dictionary Of The English Language
defined creek as " ... a small inlet of the sea or of a river,
a bay; a cove ... " This dictionary was the work of Joseph
Worchester, the rival of Noah Webster, and the favorite son of
Harvard English and the detractor of the English spoken further west
and south. Mr Worchester did grant that " ... in the Middle,
Southern, and Western states ..." the word might define a "
... small river; a rivulet."
The 1934 Webster, arguably the finest
American dictionary --- the last hand-bound book allowing it to be as
thick as the editors needed it to be and not subject to the dictates
of machine binding --- explains creek as:
... a small inlet or bay, narrower and
extending farther into the land than a cove; a narrow recess in the
shore of the sea, a river, or a lake ... the estuary of a small river
or a brook, emptying on a low coast or into the lower reaches of a
wide river, together with the upper course of the small river or
brook to its source.
This begs the question of when or if a
'creek' is also a 'crick.' Some people pronounce 'creek' as though it
were spelled like 'crick.' Some people do not. Some people
distinguish the difference between creek and crick by size. For
example, a recent article on the Field & Stream website
quoted a commenter from Texas who suggested that " ... if you
can jump across it, it's a crick; if you have to wade across it, it's
a creek."
Definitions, too, it seems, can be
sinuous creatures, possessing tenacity, ingenuity, and, at times,
even supple grace.
Lower
Columbia, photo gv simoni
The length of a river is its
measure from its source at its headwaters to its mouth where it
debouches into another river, a lake, or the sea. Length is the sine
qua non for determining the river's size and ranking. Generally, any
tributaries feeding a river must be smaller both in size and volume.
The Mississippi, reckoned the 2nd longest river in North America,
becomes the 4th longest in the world if the Missouri River,
which flows into the Mississippi just north of St Louis, is added to
it. The Missouri, however, is considered a separate entity due to its
size. The numbers suggest finagling: the Mississippi is most often
listed as 2,348 miles long, though 2,320 is not an uncommon
measurement; the Missouri is listed at 2,341 miles long, and is often
granted the longest river in North America laurels. Three streams and
many tributaries feed the upper Missouri with considerable
opportunity for error. The Mississippi begins its southern journey in
Lake Itasca in northern Minnesota. Quibbles seem to be in order.
In terms of volume, generally measured
in cubic feet per second (cfs --- think sugar cubes 12 inches
square), the Mississippi heads the North American list with a
discharge of 593,000 cfs. The Columbia River, the fabled River of the
West, languishes at just seventh in length at 1,243 miles; but moves
up to fourth in volume at 293,000 cfs. By comparison, the Amazon, the
largest river in the world by volume (and by length, as well,
depending on who is measuring) discharges 7,380,765 cfs.
The gravitational pull of the moon
creates tides, and long sections of rivers that empty into the sea
fluctuate accordingly. Tidal rivers rise and fall with the tides, and
they flood and ebb as well. The fresh water of a river, less dense
than the ocean's salt water, generally floats over the top of the
heavier seawater. St Helens, Oregon, once a contender with Portland
for major port honors, sees a three foot rise twice daily from the
tide. Merriwther Lewis noted tidal water as far inland as Beacon
Rock, 145 miles from the Columbia's mouth. The river's flow has
considerable variations due to dam releases, wing dams, wind, and
tidal currents. Data taken by NOAA suggests tidal flows are
coincident with the rise and fall of tides and effect the river's
current by up to two knots. No worries for tugs pushing barges which
have bigger fish to fry. Kayakers, however, may be late for dinner if
paddling against an adverse tide.
Rivers
lend themselves to various metaphorical phrases. Most often, flowing
water is used to describe life itself, or that other great
abstraction, time. In literature, stream of consciousness is a major
stylistic feature of many modern novels which attempt to duplicate in
words a character's thought process. The phrase was coined by
psychologist William James in his Principles Of Psychology
of 1894. Though James thought
of one's reactions to events as a continuous flow, novelist, with the
limitations of the written word, may come closer to duplicating what
to many is a rather herky-jerky, stop-and-go process. As one floats
the river of life, a good deal of focus is required to maintain a
continuous line of thought, to focus beyond distraction come hell or
high water. Nonetheless, distractions are legion, and sooner or later
one finds themselves up a creek without a paddle, in the proverbial
chicken-wire canoe.
