With the brutal heat that accompanies an early summer in Louisville, a region of the country otherwise without a label, I feel like I am in a jungle. It feels like the South, but it isn’t. It looks like the North, but it isn’t. Mid-South seems to fit it best. For those of you who require a definitive answer as to where I am, according to Wikipedia “Although many definitions are still based on Civil War era politics…the term Upper South is often used for all of the American South north of the Deep South.” Interestingly enough, during the nineteenth century, the Ohio River marked the southern boundary of the Northwest Territory, serving as the border between free and slave territory. Perhaps this is why certain, older residents I have met have agreed with me that Louisville is indeed the South and have directed me to the Mason-Dixon line “downtown.” These locals, of course, are referring me to the Ohio River.
Needless to say, when the mercury rises to near triple-digits, my natural reaction is to cool off near the closest body of water available. In the past it had been Coney Island in Brooklyn. Or the Hudson River on Manhattan’s west side. At this time in my life, that body of water is the Ohio River. The largest tributary of the Mississippi River, the Ohio is over 980 miles long and originates in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. Locals say it’s polluted and I’m sure it is as most of our fresh water sources are in America today. But it is beautiful and of course is less polluted once you leave the Louisville city limits as I did Sunday aboard a friend’s yacht. About five feet above its normal depth, the river swelled due to severe thunderstorms in the Mid-West and hosted flooding, large driftwood, sediment and debris. As we pulled away from the dock, turtles sunned themselves on trees that grew sideways, far out into the creek which feeds the river, where there is usually a shore. A cow pasture and submerged fence accurately demonstrated the abnormality of the river this day as tips of metal posts and wire peeked out from the bright green grass in which they were secured.
As soon as we arrived at our destination, a cove which used to be public before a tyrant decided he “owned” this part of the river and decided to bring the matter to court, I felt so relieved to be on the water and dangled my feet over (and eventually into) the muddy Ohio. Assured by my party that had it not been for those Northern storms I would be able to see not only my feet in the water but also the boat’s propeller, I gazed out onto the waves and saw a most peculiar creature twisting and flailing about ten feet away from mine. Kevin, an intrepid guest of one adjacent vessel, did not hesitate before jumping into the river, plastic cup in hand, to retrieve the peculiar specimen.
Here is the video of what I found on the river. My guess? A leech. Since there are hundreds of species of non-blood sucking leeches I have not been able to identify it using the Internet, but that was my first instinct based on its segments and anatomy. The commentary of those around me as we investigate this creature is pretty hilarious, ranging from “it’s a river worm” to “it’s disgusting”. And the scenery at the end as I pan my surroundings shows just where I spent a sunny afternoon in Kentucky not only basking in the sun, but also kayaking around picking up litter and beer cans from ignorant passengers on other boats tied to the group.
