River of the Little Owls by Heather Doherty was originally published in two installments. Part I was published in the BFEC Newsletter, Vol. 18/No. 3, July 2014. Part II was published in Vol. 18/No. 4, Fall 2014.
The Kokosing River runs through the heart of Knox County and Mount Vernon, and has long been central to life in the region. It provided a home for Native Americans for thousands of years, and later carried settlers and their growing economy. The river remains one of our greatest natural assets, attracting residents and visitors with opportunities to recreate or simply revel in its beauty.
Our river is a special one. With tree-lined banks and much of its natural character intact, it boasts an outstanding wealth of wildlife. In 1998 it joined the ranks of a select group of “State Scenic” rivers designated by the Ohio Department of Natural Resources.
This article is the first of a two-part series that explores how the river connects us to our past and touches us today.
The Kokosing River has survived several identities. Though the exact origin of its name has been the subject of debate, a common theory holds that the name “Kokosing” was used by the Algonquin Indians and meant “River of the Little Owls.” This name was anglicized into “Owl Creek,” which was the river’s name as early settlers knew it.
Bishop Philander Chase founded Kenyon College in 1824, and for unknown reasons dubbed the Kokosing the “Vernon River.” One of his successors, Bishop Gregory Thurston Bedell, successfully lobbied a few decades later to change the name back to the melodic original, which thankfully stuck.
Though it makes for an interesting tale, thousands of years prior to the river’s naming a much larger regime of change led to its birth from an immense sheet of ice known as the Wisconsin glacier. Prior to its advance, the Kokosing River did not exist, nor the Ohio River. Instead, the great Teays River flowed from east to west through the center of the state.
The Wisconsin glacier advanced 20,000 years ago over the Teays valley, scrapping, grinding, and trapping all manner of earth and stone under its frozen mass. As it receded, great volumes of melt water cut new river valleys, including the Kokosing’s. Boulders and crushed rock were also released from the ice and deposited on the river’s edges.
Fast-forward to 1890, and that glacial debris becomes an important local commodity: sand and gravel. The opening of quarries and availability of sand contributed to a glass-making industry that employed 1,000 people in Knox County at its height in 1950’s, and quarries continue to operate today. (A soon-to-open portion of the Ariel-Foundation Park, located next to the river in Mount Vernon, will feature “ruins” of a Pittsburg Plate Glass factory).
The glacier also left a gift that we enjoy every time we draw a glass of water from a faucet in most of Knox County — ample pockets of groundwater that we access through public and private wells.
Groundwater sustains life of the river as well when it naturally makes its way to the surface, seeping upward either directly through the riverbed or through small springs that are common in the area. Springs contribute consistent, cold water to small creeks that then flow into the Kokosing. Cold water holds more oxygen, which is great for sensitive species.
As etched by the glaciers, the Kokosing River flows for 57 miles through a drainage basin, or watershed, of 485 square miles. The river and its tributaries originate in Morrow County and Richland County, and flow south and east through Knox County. The river passes through Mt. Vernon, Gambier, Howard, and Millwood before crossing east into Coshocton County were it joins the Mohican River to from the Walhonding River.
These rivers and several others eventually flow into the Muskingum River, followed by the Ohio River and the Mississippi, and eventually the Gulf of Mexico. The next time it rains in Knox County, wish those drops a nice trip to the Atlantic.
Prior to European settlement, in the 18th and early 19thcenturies, the Kokosing River valley was home to small villages and hunting grounds of several Native American tribes, including Hurron, Shawnee, Wyandotte, and Delaware. Farmers, historians, and archeological enthusiasts continue to find a wealth of stone tools and points in fields and river beds; the BFEC preserve has turned up its own small collection (look for a display at the resource center in the coming year). Frederick Lorey’s “History of Knox County, Ohio 1876-1976,” documents early settlement of the area. He notes that the tributary stream Indianfields Run was named for a village and agricultural field at the creek’s confluence with the Kokosing River, located about five miles east of Gambier. Visitors are welcome to explore the area now as the Knox County Park District’s Indianfields Bluff Park.
The Greenville Treaty of 1795 was followed by a rapid decline of Indian presence in our region. But like the Native Americans before them, early settlers relied on the river for transportation. At the time, there was simply no alternative aside from Native American footpaths. Like so many other towns in America, Mount Vernon’s access to a river lead to the settlement and prosperity.
Shortly before Ohio gained statehood in 1803, Andrew Craig became the area’s first documented settler when he traveled up the Kokosing River and stopped near present-day Mt. Vernon. He later moved west, and was followed by Nathaniel Mitchell in 1803, who also came up the river. Gilman Bryant, Mt. Vernon’s first storekeeper, brought his first stock of merchandise up the Kokosing River by canoe.
In the early 1800’s the flow of the Kokosing River powered machinery that was vital for human sustenance and shelter: mills for sawing wood and grinding grain. Water depths (aided by some dams) were sufficient to carry flat boats loaded with agricultural and wood products downstream to the Walhonding River, and then to the Muskingum and Ohio Rivers.
As Ohio’s forests were cleared, soil erosion altered the river, making it more shallow and less suitable for commercial boat traffic. As mills closed, roads and railroads rose to prominence.
The name “Kokosing was given to the river by Native Americans, and loosely means “River of the Little Owls.” It’s hard to know what owl populations were like 300 years ago, at a time when Ohio also harbored wolves, bison, and antelope. But they could have been speaking in Ohio’s littlest owl, the screech owl, which stands at just 8” and lives in forests and suburbs. Or maybe they had the barred owl in mind: though not so small, it especially loves riverine forests where it snacks on frogs.
As both the “Kokosing” and the anglicized “Owl Creek.” The river is part of what defines our region, and has been justly appropriated as a namesake.
The Kokosing River encircles Kenyon College in geography and history. It loosely winds around the campus on three sides, and the adjacent rolling hills make for scenic views of its valley. Those familiar with the college enjoy a view of the river from “sunset point,” while the BFEC’s Pine Overlook Trail and Observatory and Corridor Trails offer other vantage points.
When Bishop Philander Chase founded the college here 1824, its distance from civilization was met with strenuous objection by members of the Board of Trustees, to the extant that several resigned. On his initial trip to scout the area, he was accompanied by William Bodine, author of The Kenyon Book, who noted several small farms in the vicinity, though westward were “suggestions of unconquered wilderness.” Despite the objections, the Kokosing River valley spoke to them:
“The whole panorama of the beautiful valleys that lay at our feet, the undulating line and varying surface of the distant hills... with the windings of the river, all were brought in to view, and presented a scene and landscape of unsurpassed loveliness and beauty. It certainly so appeared to me then, and so it seemed to strike our good Bishop... he expressed his delight and satisfaction in the brief but significant exclamation: ‘Well, this will do!’”
Like other early residents of the area, Chase benefitted from the river’s power. He established the Kenyon Mill on the river, where it now intersects Big Run Road and Route 229 just east of Gambier, to process lumber for construction of the Old Kenyon dormitory. A flood hit while the sawmill was still under construction, though, and Chase feared the worst. As the waters receded, he found the mill’s dam intact, and that the flood waters had further excavated the raceway, saving him time and expense. New optimism swept Chase and local residents that divine powers were on Chase’s side.
The college sold the mill, though in the 1850’s it became a gathering spot for farmers waiting for their grain to be processed. It changed hands several times, and ceased operations in 1948. It collapsed into the Kokosing River in 1999, having stood for 155 years.
A September 1995 Kenyon Collegian article reported that boating on the river was a popular form of student entertainment. Four boating clubs existed in 1865, and a canoe house was constructed, but destroyed in the major flood of 1913. The river remains a popular spot to swim as the school year begins in late August, or on the rare, summer-like days of early May.
Though we no longer rely on the river for basic elements of survival, it remains an important part of the school’s identity. A good example lies in the school’s “spiritual alma mater,” a song written by Orville Watson and entitled “Kokosing Farewell.” Kenyon students ceremoniously sing the song on the eve of the first day of classes and upon graduation:
Old Kenyon, we are like Kokosing,
Obedient to some strange spell,
Which urges us from all reposing,
Farewell, Old Kenyon, fare thee well.
The Kokosing River runs through the heart of our community. In the last issue of Field Notes [the BFEC Newsletter], we examined how it shaped our past, from the river’s Native American origins (“Kokosing translates loosely to “River of the Little Owls”), to the founding of Mount Vernon in 1805 and Kenyon College in 1824.
Like so many Midwestern regions, a river was central to the early settlement and economy of Knox County, but our relationship with it has evolved. Though it is no longer used for basic elements of survival and commerce, it remains one of our greatest natural assets. It is a source of local pride and increasingly attracts visitors with its clear waters. This second article of our Kokosing River series explores the gifts that the river offers today and challenges we face in continuing to care for it.
Our river is a special one. Under the auspices of Ray Heithaus, Professor Emeritus of the Kenyon Biology Department, and a committee of dedicated residents and officials, the Kokosing River joined the ranks of a select group of “State Scenic” rivers in 1998. Of the hundreds of rivers in Ohio, the Ohio Department of Natural Resources has recognized just 14 with this status.
Seventy-eight species of fish call the Kokosing River home, and in case you aren’t aware, that’s a lot. The presence of diverse wildlife played a role in the Kokosing’s Scenic River designation, and is a measurement used in general by biologists to determine a river’s health.
While they could simply analyze water samples for pollutants, studying the presence of living creatures and their relative pollution tolerance is a much better barometer. (An oil spill may not be evident in a water sample six months later, but the loss of biota will tell the story for years). Below are a few highlights of wildlife found in the Kokosing.
Darters are intriguing, small fish that live in riffles, where rocks break the surface of swiftly flowing water and create high oxygen levels. They are equipped with specialized pectoral fins to prop themselves on the river bottom, holding their ground against the current while waiting for tasty bugs to emerge from the streambed.
Many darters are sensitive to pollution, and if their pebbly, rocky stream bottom is covered with silt, it’s game over. Soil can be washed off of farm fields or construction sites by the tons and devastate rivers when riffles are buried.
In a Kokosing River study conducted by the Ohio EPA in 2007, biologists found an abundance of the state threatened bluebreast darter. This species was once quite rare in Ohio, but its population has slowly recovered as the quality of Ohio’s rivers has improved over the last few decades.
Riffles are also great places to find darters’ favorite food — aquatic bugs and insects. Pick up a rock in a riffle, turn it over, and you’ll be surprised at the life clinging to its bottom. You’ll find mayfly and beetle larvae, with flattened bodies to reduce the risk of washing away, and tiny rock tube houses built by caddishly larvae that filter feed from within its safety.
These larvae will emerge from the water to become terrestrial, flying insects. Fish eat them, fly-fishermen emulate them, and biologists survey them (in addition to fish) as markers of stream health.
The physical appearance of this creature may fit its ominous name, but its habits are pretty tame. At up to twenty-four inches long, the hellbender is the largest salamander in north America and a state endangered species. It’s found in just a few rivers in Ohio, and the Kokosing is one of them, though its numbers are very small.
At one time, anglers who accidentally caught them would throw them on the riverbank, some fearing (erroneously) that they ate young sport fish. Just a few have been captured this way in recent years, though they were happily released.
Hellbenders are bottom-feeding omnivores that prefer crayfish. They are nocturnal and require habitat with large boulders or slabs of bedrock to hide under during the day. Hiding is so important that they possess photo-receptive cells on their tails, which can detect daylight and let the creatures know if they are adequately tucked under a rock.
This fish is an unusual, state endangered species and a recent discovery in the Kokosing River. It’s found in just one other river drainage in Ohio, the Mahoning. While some species are parasitic (and attach themselves to other fish), this one is not.
Lampreys have long, eel-like bodies and a jawless mouth. As young, they bury into soft river sediment and feed on organic particles and microscopic organisms. Several years later, the adults emerge in the fall and seek small, fast-flowing streams. They do not eat, and die soon after spawning in the spring at the head of gravel riffles. Many individuals gather at spawning beds, offering rare opportunities to be seen by people.
Why is the Kokosing the home to this cadre of sensitive species? Its health is connected to the land around it. Much of the Kokosing’s banks are covered in forests, which shade the water (keeping it cool and high in oxygen), prevent bank erosion, filter pollutants and form the base of the food web. Knox County is lucky to have many organizations committed to conserving stream-side forests, including the BFEC, Kenyon’s Philander Chase Corporation, Knox Soil & Water Conservation District, Knox County Park District, ODNR Scenic Rivers, and Owl Creek Conservancy.
Natural areas along rivers also provide floodplains. Flooding is a natural part of river ecosystems. Preserving floodplains helps keep the river healthy by giving floodwater room to spread out, slow down, and drop extra sediment on land. Without them, extra mud remains trapped in the riverbed, where it is considered a pollutant as it smoothers fish and bug habitat. Floodplains also keep people safe by releasing flood pressure, reducing risks to downstream property and infrastructure.
While forested banks are very important, to fully understand the river, we must look beyond its banks to its watershed. A watershed, or drainage basin, is the land area that drains to a specific body of water. When it rains in the Kokosing River watershed, water flowing off of the land will make its way downhill to ditches and ever larger streams that feed this river.
The Kokosing River watershed encompasses 485 square miles, including about 75 percent of Knox County, plus smaller sections of Morrow, Richland and Ashland County. It is largely rural, which means that precipitation is likely to seep into the ground.
When cities grow, land becomes less able to absorb precipitation as “impervious” surfaces like rooftops and pavement expand. Runoff hits streams much more quickly and in much higher volumes, which destroys habitat with more frequent flooding and erosion. Runoff also carries pollutants like animal waste, car fluids, fertilizer, and extra dirt from farm fields or construction sites.
Prior to the 1970s, the primary river pollution concern was factory or wastewater treatment effluent released into rivers at the end of a pipe, known as “point-source” pollution. Many of these sources have improved dramatically since then, now making the diffuse runoff pollution described above, dubbed “non-point source” pollution, the largest threat to rivers nationwide.
In addition to urban runoff, nonpoint source pollution can also originate from farms. The 2007 Ohio EPA river study found spots along the Kokosing and tributary streams where runoff from agriculture and livestock with direct access to creeks had negatively impacted the river.
Despite these challenges, the Kokosing River is still in good shape, though runoff pollution could pose a larger threat as the watershed’s population grows. Municipalities can respond, as has the City of Mt. Vernon, by using new methods to reduce runoff. For instance, parking lot runoff can be directed towards “bioswales” that absorb water and pollutants, rather than storm drains that direct runoff into rivers (see www.mountvernonohio.org/departments/engineering). Such practices are also popping up on the Kenyon campus.
Every resident of the watershed has a role to play in keep the river beautiful for generations to come.