From the Millpond to the Sea:
One River, Three Tributaries, Four Dams

 

Sixty-seven tributaries flow into the Hudson River watershed, and over half are impeded by some sixteen-hundred-plus dams. Vestiges of early American infrastructure, most have outlived their purposes. Today, they restrict biodiversity; obstruct fish migration; raise the temperature of impounded water; and trap sediment, creating artificial flow patterns. Focusing on four key sites in the watershed, From the Millpond to the Sea investigates the reconnection of free-flowing waterways. In considering three options—maintenance, neglect, and removal—it advocates for the last. Along with the ecological, social, and human considerations of dam removal, the book looks to the abiding associations we have with waterways. Free-flowing water and still water imprint themselves differently on the human psyche, whether drawing us to meditative thought or conveying ideas about continuity and momentum. A fast-moving stream and a reflective pond speak to contrasting health of facets of human experience.  In considering how reconnecting streams addresses urgent ecological concerns, the book also reflects on the abiding associations we have with the water and land around us.

  • In New York's Hudson Valley, humans have dammed, studied, drained, celebrated, abused, and entirely rerouted the water that flows through the region. In From the Millpond to the Sea, Akiko Busch demonstrates that the ultimate stance we take toward our waterways—in the Hudson Valley and everywhere—reflects the aspirations, expectations, and respect we have for our own lives.

    Chip Blake, former editor of Orion

  • Akiko Busch has brought her personal explorations and conversations with freshwater scientists together in a delightful description of what was lost when small dams were built on tributaries of the Hudson River and what to expect with their removal.

    William H. Schlesinger, President, Emeritus, Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies

With the dam dismantled, the millpond has gone to creek, from reflective pool to moving water. Its floodplain is on its way to being a woodland—maybe of red, sugar, and silver maples, of river birch, ironwood, blue beech, black gum, white pine, and silky dogwood. Or maybe a composition of willows, sycamores, and maples. Its final arrangement remains uncertain. If it is a succession of uncertainties, it still speaks to that possibility that one thing can—genuinely, deeply, truly—become something else entirely, an idea I find strangely and unexpectedly sustaining on a deeper human level.