Geologic records indicate that a bit less than 20,000 years ago, the Mississippi River flowed near the east edge of the Ozarks, about 20 miles northeast of where Poplar Bluff is now.
But as big, meandering rivers are prone to doing, North America’s largest stream changed course to a position further east. Before it moved, it formed a giant basin. After it moved, a large, fertile wetland was left behind.
It’s still there, and is protected by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service as the 21,676-acre Mingo National Wildlife Refuge (next to Puxico, off of U.S. 51). My wife Wendy and I took our kayaks there last Sunday and were rewarded with a very memorable day trip.
Having been to Louisiana’s Cajun Country not long ago and spending time in some very real swampland, I couldn’t believe Mingo. The area was a mix of expansive cypress swamp and grassy swamp, deep forests (many with watery bases), large meadows, numerous strip-like waterways (both narrow and wide) and colorful pools of open water lined by more cypress and dozens of other tree species (both evergreen and deciduous).
More than once we felt like we were back in Cajun Country. The only thing missing was (thankfully) alligators.
We put our kayaks in at a basic, un-fancy boat launch on the Mingo River, which is really more of a slough than a river, because there’s no discernable current. The stream begins in the massive Monopoly Marsh and eventually adds its water to the Black River south of the refuge.
As we paddled along (with Gertie, the Permapup, captaining my craft from its bow), we passed dozens of huge cypress trees growing out of the water along each shore. I could imagine the early settlers benefiting from the bigger trees’ bounty, as their wood was highly valued for use as railroad ties and lumber for construction.
We headed out for more than an hour from our put-in location, and then did a u-turn back and cruised back to where we started (a major advantage to flat-water paddling). Being the water dog she is, Gertie took a swim before we began the trek (without any encouragement, which she doesn’t need when it comes to swimming), and she wanted to jump in the whole time we were on the water, but she somehow suppressed the urge and got back to land having mostly dried out in the warm May air.
In addition to enjoying an epic kayak outing, Wendy and I drove many miles on gravel roads to sight-see around the refuge, and walked on the incredible 1.6-mile Boardwalk Loop Trail that winds through surreal wet areas of dense forest rising from a huge liquid bed literally blanketed with bright green duckweed. We often found ourselves saying, “I can’t believe this is Missouri” (as I’m sure many other visitors also do).
During our stay, we saw plenty of wildlife enjoying their designated refuge, including great blue herons, cranes, hawks, wood ducks (including some mega-cute babies), several species of turtles and fish, and a really big broad head skink. Speaking of fish, I didn’t have any tackle with me, but I fancied Mingo as a great place to wet a line, and we saw several people doing just that.
Physically spent, but mentally relaxed and satisfied, Wendy and I talked a lot about our adventure on our way home. And early in the return trip, she began singing, “there was a swamp in ‘Misery,’ and Mingo was its name-o. M-i-ngo, M-i-ngo, M-i-ngo and Mingo was its name-o.”
I sang along. We really never worked on a second verse, although it probably wouldn’t have been too hard.
When I came to work Monday morning, parked the truck next to the Lone Star Plaza and climbed out onto the pavement, I was greeted by the electronic bells in the Bank of Houston tower playing – you guessed it – “Bingo Was His Name-o.” After stopping in my tracks and realizing what I was hearing, I just nodded and said to myself, “of course.”
Put that in your amazing coincidences file.
Doug Davison is a writer, photographer and newsroom assistant for the Houston Herald. Email: ddavison@houstonherald.com.
