The Sunflower River - a true story by D.L. Wiebe

The Sunflower River

We used to let the dogs run down on the banks of the Sunflower River amongst the decades old wreckage of The Sunflower River Yacht Club and the the rusted bars and cages that were all that was left of The Down Town Zoo. The dogs would swim in the sluggish brown and green
slime-coated river water, and chase pigeons underneath the Second Street Bridge and return to us smiling with blood on their muzzles and feathers in their teeth. During the dog days of Summer the river would often be reduced to little more than a fetid creek, and one time the dogs dug up what appeared to be a walrus tusk. Another time the receding water revealed the bleached skull of a rhino with the horn still intact. We took that home and wired it to our mail box.

So much for the zoo; it was flooded out one stormy Spring night in 1952 when the river water rose so fast that by the time the lone zoo keeper had made it out of bed and down to the river the water was raging and too high for him to reach the pens and cages. The boat he attempted to launch was swept away into the lashing rain and lightning as soon as he slid it into the water. Above the howling wind he could hear a cacophony of ululating beasts raging against the rising water. He hocked his wad of Big Chief onto the muddy bank and made his way back to his truck. He drove to The Den and proceeded to get stinking drunk on corn liquor with the Harbor Master, who was also feeling kind of beat after witnessing the wreckage of what used to be the Yacht Club; broken masts and smashed hulls around the bend of the river from the marina where all the boats that had come loose from their moorings had piled into a huge oak tree that had fallen into the river during the initial onslaught of the storm. The next day the newspaper said it had been fourteen inches of rain in twelve hours. Many in town thought that was a conservative estimate after witnessing the river waters sweeping down Sunflower Avenue and the rapids that used to be Soldiers Field, Those news jockeys over there at that damn paper dont know their shit from their squat.

Thirty-five years later a broken mast and the lichen coated ribs of the occasional boat hull could still be found miles down stream. We took the dogs down to the river daily, and then one sunny Fall day we had made our way a little further upstream than usual and heard the sound of
rushing water around the bend. We rounded the corner to investigate and from a huge rusty pipe imbedded in the river bank a gush of stinking brown water and paper and turds and oh the unholy stink of it all poured into the river causing a yellow foam to well up in the river and coat
the johnson grass and wild raspberry vines on the banks like a hepatitis lemon meringue pie.

A few days later I was talking to Down Town City Water Works Manager, Marv Foley, and happened to mention witnessing this horrific event. He was nonplussed, Yaw. That shit comes from the Water Treatment Plant. Just dump all that crap into the river after they done treated it. I mean its all been treated, yknow. Aint nothin wrong with it cause it done got treated up there by them boys at the sewage treatment plant.

Jesus, Marv, this stuff stunk to high heaven! There were actual turds and toilet paper coming out of the pipe.

Yaw, it does smell some, Ill admit that, but it done been treated. Its all safe and all like that. Every last bit have been treated. All EPA approved, and that kind of shit, He peered at me through his reflecto sunglasses, What the hell were you doin up around there
anyhow?

Running the dogs.

Wall, Id stay clear of that spot from here on out if I were you.

Why?

Wall, you said you didn like the smell, didnja?

There have been some rumblings of late about resurrecting The Sunflower River Yacht Club. Its a tall order, but theres already a t-shirt designing contest underway, which is a sure sign of progress.

About a year after wed abandoned The Sunflower River as a dog running eden some kids found our friend Larry's little sister, Kootchie, not far from that treated raw sewage drain pipe; dead, sexually assaulted, beaten, and strangled. She was a well known crack whore, and there
wasnt much interest in the case at the Down Town Police Department. She had been dead for a week or two, and dogs or coyotes had messed up the crime scene pretty badly. The kids had tried to steal her rings, but her fingers came off, and they ran home crying. She was also covered with raw sewage. There wasnt much to go on.

Chief Buck Buckie Blinks told the Down Town Delta Times, Were following every lead. And thats the last time anybody heard anything about that.

copyright D.L.Wiebe 2007