^{Joel Sartore}

Text excerpted, by permission, from The Nature of Nebraska: Ecology and Biodiversity, by Paul A. Johnsgard '55.

 
Perhaps few Nebraskans would claim the Platte River as their favorite river; it is slow, mostly knee-deep or even shallower, is sometimes somewhat unpredictable in its course, and often is no more scenic than your average Nebraska irrigation ditch. This is not the Platte’s fault; for a century and more it has had its lifeblood water diverted, pumped, and polluted with fertilizers, pesticides, and animal wastes nearly all the way from its inconspicuous mountainous origins in eastern Wyoming and Colorado to its confluence in easternmost Nebraska with the Missouri. In May 1833, during his exploration of the upper Missouri Valley, Prince Maximilian of Wied reported that, even some 4 or 5 miles downstream from its confluence with the turbid Missouri River, the unsullied “clear and blue” effluent water from the Platte could still be easily distinguished from that of the much larger Missouri.

That the Platte River has survived at all in the face of almost two centuries of destructive influences is a small miracle. Had Michelangelo’s statue of David been subjected to the same treatment as has the Platte, it would have long since been consigned to the scrap pile, so the Platte needs to be viewed with a gentle and forgiving eye. It must be appreciated for what it once was, like the once-pristine Parthenon, rather than what it has now become, a ghost of river and a frequent repository for trash. It is ironic that the 200,000 or so migrants who laboriously walked the length of the Platte on their way westward left only a few simple gravestones to mark their passing; modern humans prefer to leave abandoned cars to mark theirs.

In spite of all this, the Platte Valley is still able to attract half a million sandhill cranes each March, and nearly 10 million waterfowl use it every spring, plus some 300 other bird species pass through the valley at various times of the year. Of these, at least 121 species breed in the central Platte Valley, including two nationally endangered species (least tern and piping plover). And the endangered whooping cranes reliably return each spring and fall, now in ever-increasing numbers, and sandhill cranes gather in almost uncountable flocks to rest and sleep beside the peaceful sandbars of the Platte. Through the night the cranes converse with the river, speaking in tongues that are both archaic and yet seemingly wise, and the river patiently listens. The voice of the river is even softer and possibly even older than that of the cranes; we would do well to try to hear and understand its plaintive message while it is still able to speak.

By permission of the University of Nebraska Press. © 2001 by the University of Nebraska Press. Available wherever books are sold or from the University of Nebraska Press, 800.526.2617, and on the Web at nebraskapress.unl.edu.

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