Full transcripts of the six Water Ways audio capsules.
Myriophyllum Spicatum
Myriophyllum Spicatum. Most people call it Eurasian watermilfoil, or just milfoil for the intimate. It is native to eastern Asia, non-native to North America. Yet still, it is present in the Rideau River. And it gets the name invasive because it does notoriously well in systems it is accidentally introduced to by humans. In fact, it does so well that it can fairly easily kick out other species that were previously there and take cover.
If I were milfoil, I would be very good at reproducing — I would quickly make clones of myself, spread my genes, and take over a place where I just arrived. I could reproduce in a bunch of different ways.
If I were milfoil, in late summer and early fall, I could produce flowers. And if pollinated, my flowers would in turn produce seeds, which then would settle on the sediment at the bottom of water bodies and germinate when the conditions are suitable. I would be pretty effective in sexual reproduction because my flowers would have both male and female parts. I could self-pollinate.
I would also reproduce without any form of fertilization. Most of the time, when my stems are broken or cut by either natural events, human activity, or other disturbances, they just go ahead and develop roots and establish new plants. Biologists call this fragmentation, and it's how I really thrive and take over ecosystems.
Imagine you put your boat into a lake where I live, and say you have a motor on that boat, and then that motor touches me and rips off a part of my long stems and picks it up, and then you take your boat out of the water, drive your boat over to the next lake and the little, tiny piece you picked up with your motor hitches a ride into this next lake. There, it falls off the motor, and voilà — the stage for a takeover is set. It places its roots.
Today, there are boat washing stations to help prevent my fragmentation. But for some freshwater bodies, it's just too late.
Invasive
Invasive. That is what some have decided to call species that are non-native to a system, arrive there, and end up disrupting it. This means that invasive species usually affect the balance of an ecosystem, causing changes that can result in economic problems or health issues.
Eurasian water milfoil is one of them. Commonly known as milfoil, it's one of the most infamous aquatic invasive species that is now found in the Rideau River.
If I were milfoil, I would live in many places that I'm not native to. I would move from one place to the next. Like the Rideau River, which is not a body of water where I first came to be and thrived. I would grow really well in systems I'm not native to because I can form these dense mats of vegetation that outcompete all other plants.
As I fill up certain areas by growing so well, I would take away the habitat native fish require to thrive. Sometimes, in the summer, I would even entirely prevent boats from navigating or people from swimming in a water body they used to go to.
So if I were milfoil, I would take up a lot of space. But I'm not the only one responsible for spreading so far away from the places I am native to. Turns out one of the primary ways species like me move around is by hitching rides in the ballast water of ships. That's the water that ships carry with them to provide stability and balance while they are at sea. And if that water is released without being cleaned, it can bring all kinds of insects, plants, bacteria, and even fish larvae into new places.
There are many regulations to try and prevent this kind of circulation. But so many species have already moved around this way — I'm part of a larger movement of invasive species that humans are in great part responsible for.
Another way I would move around is through the aquarium trade.
Actually, I was initially brought to North America from Asia as an ornamental plant for aquariums and water gardens — because let's face it, I'm beautiful. But when people mishandle me or discard me improperly into natural water bodies, I can thrive in ways no one anticipated and that have consequences for all the species I share systems like Rideau River with.
Littoral Zone
The littoral zone. It is the space at the edge of a waterway where water and land meet. And this zone is actually really important from an ecological perspective. It tends to be a hotspot for biodiversity, attracting all kinds of plants that, in turn, provide shelter for fish, insects, birds and amphibians. And because there tend to be so many plants in this part of the underwater world, it plays a really big role in keeping the entire waterbody clean.
This is because plants do something called nutrient cycling, where they can basically take up elements of the water they are immersed in that are present in excess and use them to fuel their growth. And through this process of removing nutrients from the water, they help keep it in a state in which fish can thrive, and in which humans can comfortably swim.
The vegetation in the littoral zone also helps to stabilize shorelines because their roots help bind sediment together, creating this natural means for the shoreline to stay in place in spite of all the movement that takes place in the water.
At the same time, the littoral is often severely affected by human activity. On the Rideau River, this part of the river can look pretty different from one place to the next. Some parts of the littoral are filled with the rich vegetation and diversity you'd expect to see in an undisturbed littoral zone, and others are totally altered by concrete retaining walls. These types of concrete retaining walls were installed on many portions of the Rideau River to help prevent erosion of the riverbank, but they come with some pretty significant consequences in terms of the ability of vegetation and the associated biodiversity to thrive. Fish, for example, don't spend as much time beside these retaining walls as they do in sections of the river where these artificial walls weren't put into place.
Non-artificial littoral zones are important. They allow plants to thrive in the parts of the river where water meets lands. In fact, this zone is prime habitat for plants like water celery and milfoil, two species that are part of our fresh waterways and their interconnected ecosystems.
Connectivity
Connectivity. Lakes, rivers, streams, wetlands — they often seem like these well-defined systems that you are either in or out of. Your feet are in the water, or they are on land. Your boat is in the river, or you've pulled it on to shore. Now, as much as it's true that water and land aren't the same, they are really connected. The boundaries of what makes up a freshwater system like the Rideau River are not at all cut and dry, like the differences between land and water.
Freshwaters are HUGELY influenced by what goes on on the land around them. Because, believe it or not, a lot of the water that is found in freshwaters comes from the surrounding land, like when rain falls onto that land and flows into downstream water.
If I were rain water, I would fall to the ground and fill up the land until it can't contain me anymore, and I would flow over toward the nearest water body. And as I move over or through land into surrounding streams, rivers, lakes, or wetlands, I would carry with me the signatures of that land. The « signature » of a land is what makes it unique and special : the nutrients found in its soil, or pesticides sitting on plants, or bacteria on the feces of a grazing cow in a field. So as I flow over or through the land, I would collect all the signatures I come across on land in my droplets, and bring them along with me into the closest freshwater system.
Sometimes, I bring good with me. Like, for example, when I pick essential nutrients up on land, and carry them with me into the water, where many species like plants and fish use them.
But other times, as I connect the land with freshwaters, I can also threaten those freshwaters. If pesticides are used on land and I, a rain drop flowing over the land, run into those pesticides along my trajectory toward the water, there is a clear pathway for those pesticides to hitch a ride with me into the freshwaters whole communities depend on.
Wouldn't you prefer a world where there aren't pesticides that are known carcinogens in the water source that provides the city where you live with drinking water ?
Taking into account the connection between land and water is one of the best ways to keep freshwaters clean.
Vallisneria Americana
Vallisneria Americana. Many people call it eelgrass, or water celery. For ages, the Anishinaabe have been calling it "Nibin-wiikend", which are words that translate to « water » and « celery », or similar plants. It probably has to do with the fact that this is an edible plant, one of many edible species that live in our fresh waterways.
If I were water celery, humans could eat me. My young shoots and leaves would be eaten raw in salads or cooked as a vegetable. Some say I have a slightly nutty flavor.
But humans are not the only ones that would eat me. In the spring, fish and insects that live under water would feed on me all the time. Like bass, for example — when they are little, they have a strong appetite for me.
Many fish would also rely on me for cover, using me as a shelter and area of camouflage to stay safe from larger predators while they rest. And this is a two-way system, because bass would use me to hide from others that want to eat them and to hide from those they themselves plan to eat - like smaller fish and insects. The bass would position themselves in my leaves to break up the outline of their bodies, which makes it easier for them to be unnoticed by other creatures. And BOOM — they ambush.
If I were water celery, I would be a refuge to others and food, but my roles wouldn't end there. Fish would also spend time around me to spawn. They would lay their eggs in the denser parts of my long ribbon-like leaves, which are a perfect bed for spawning.
I would protect the eggs and newly hatched tiny fish (which are technically known as fry) because I would shield the little ones from passing predators.
I would also be cool. Literally. My presence in the water influences local water temperatures. So when the sun gets real warm, fish like to hang out close to me to keep cool.
I guess you can say that if I were a water celery, I would be a true local, and an important part of the Rideau River ecology. No wonder an artist decided to make an arch in my honor.
Fresh Water
Fresh water. Water without nearly as much salt as ocean water. Water that can partly freeze during wintertime in places like Ottawa, where temperatures outside drop during the winter months. Water that humans rely on to survive. Water that provides habitat for 10% of all known species on Earth, despite covering only about 1% of the planet's surface. That's right, just 1% of the planet's surface is covered by freshwater bodies. But without them, we are nothing.
If I were freshwater, I would have many different forms. I could be a lake, a river, a wetland, a pond, a stream. I would flow through all these different ecosystems that human existence is intrinsically tied to. Like the Rideau River that flows from its headwaters almost 150km North of Ottawa, at Rideau Lake, near the town of Smith Falls, all the way into the Ottawa River, eventually draining into the St-Lawrence, its golf, and all the way to the Atlantic Ocean.
If I were a freshwater river, I would strangely have a history of being treated like a garbage bin. For a long time, my tributaries were treated like conveyor belts to move waste away from where humans lived. At some point, I would have been really disgusting to many people. How can you blame them, who would want to spend time in a garbage dump!
The thing is, I'm not a dump. I flow through ecosystems that are critical to the survival of humans and many other species. In recent years, efforts all over have been made to clean me up, but there's still a lot of work to be done. I do need better care. I'm worth it.
If I were a freshwater body, one of the many possible ways to take care of me and all the living systems I feed would be through formal protection. Like the Rideau River, and how it's recognized as a Canadian Heritage River and National Historic Site, as well as protected by legislation like the Fisheries Act. If I were the Rideau River, this Act would influence when water and boats move through me, serving as an important mechanism to protect the spawning grounds of numerous fish that inhabit my waters.
There are also other ways one could formally protect me if I were a freshwater body. I could become a part of a National Park, or a Strict Nature Reserve, for example. I could even gain the status of legal personhood, like the Mutehekau Shipu, a river on Innu First Nation traditional territories. This way, I would get some recognition and have some power when people aren't taking care of me. I could be managed in such a way that the effects of human activity on me would be minimized and sustainable.
Formal protection like this is, unfortunately, very rarely focused on freshwaters. Most existing protected areas are established with land, oceans, or big animals in mind. But over 50% of people on Earth live within 3km of one of my many bodies of water. And everyone, without any exceptions, relies on me. We all need freshwater. Water is life. It's about time I get good care, don't you think?