Springs Sprung
by Rex Buchanan
One
morning a few years back I ate breakfast with Roger Martin, the guy
who edits this electronic magazine. I'd just co-authored a new book
on Kansas geology, and he complimented me on it.
"I could see that water was the subtext of your book,"
Roger said. "That was really wise of you."
To be honest, I'm just a simple country boy who grew
up in the middle of Kansas. I wasn't even sure what a subtext is.
But I'm not dumb. "Thanks for noticing," I said.
I realized then that it's impossible to write or even
think seriously about the state of Kansas without taking water into
account.
For the past few years, I've spent some time working
with Bob Sawin, a colleague here at the Kansas Geological Survey, and
Wayne Lebsack, an independent geologist, on an inventory of Kansas springs.
In part, this project is the result of scientific curiosity, an attempt
to gauge the health of the state's water systems and see how springs
have changed in the 100 or so years since people began dramatically
altering the landscape.
The project is also an attempt to provide information
to towns, landowners and other people interested in potential water
supplies. After all, water's the one resource that you can't do without,
or substitute something else for.
Over the course of this work, we've visited nearly 200
springs in just about every corner of Kansas. We've learned a few things.
Springs in the Flint Hills, for example, seem to be
in pretty good shape. Their water quality is generally good, especially
when compared with springs in the rest of the state. In western Kansas,
on the other hand, lowering the Ogallala aquifer has dried up springs
that had lasted for centuries before large-scale irrigation.
We've
seen some incredible springs. Crystal Spring, in Marion County, produces
water for the town of Florence. Every minute, 3,000 to 4,000 gallons
pours out of this spring. Some is used by Florence, population 650,
and the remainder flows into the Cottonwood River. Florence's water
tower advertises its product as 99.96% pure, by the way, and our analysis
shows that's about right.
I thought I knew a lot about Kansas before this project,
having grown up here and spent much of my life studying, and writing
about, the state's geology.
But during this project, the Kansas landscape has offered
a new range of experiences.
- Like running my fingers across Native American petroglyphs
scratched into the sandstone that crops out near springs in the Smoky
Hills of central Kansas.
- Like finding a small, brilliant red mushroom (known
scientifically as a scarlet cap fungi) growing beneath one ledge of
limestone at a Chase County spring on the new Tallgrass Prairie National
Preserve.
- Like tasting the peppery flavor of watercress that
grows in about half the springs we've visited. (Watercress, by the
way, isn't native to Kansas, but was planted in springs by early Europeans
moving across the plains to provide a source of vitamin C for later
travelers.)
- Like watching bass rise to eat grasshoppers at the
surface of a crystal-clear pond, fed by springs in the pastures of
Meade County in southwestern Kansas.
- Like finding a grove of trees (above one spring
in Barber County) completely covered -- almost dripping -- with monarch
butterflies that had been migrating south in autumn, only to be caught
and stopped by a cold front.
The people we've met have been just as interesting
as the natural world. In the process of getting permission to visit
these spots, we've knocked on the doors of everything from multi-million
dollar mansions nestled in the Flint Hills to old houses with chickens
living on the front porch.
Probably the most amazing thing about the people has
been their eagerness to help. Almost without fail, these landowners
are willing (not just willing, but excited) to jump in a vehicle with
three total strangers and drive into a pasture to show us a place they
consider important.
Having been to almost 200 of these springs, I can see
why people care about them so much. They are special. Springs are places
where the natural world and human history intersect. They are a source
of the water that all of us (people, animals, plants) need to survive.
Maybe best of all, they are a way to know the world.
For more information on this work, click here.
Rex Buchanan
Associate director for public outreach
Kansas Geological Survey
rex@kgs.ku.edu
Buchanan is co-author (with Jim McCauley) of Roadside
Kansas: A Guide to Its Geology and Landmarks, and editor of Kansas
Geology: An Introduction to Landscapes, Rocks, Minerals, and Fossils,
both published by the University Press of Kansas.
