Midges, smelly
lake just part of nature in all its glory
Besides, those bugs can let
people know where you’re from
August 3,
2008
Klamath Falls Herald and
News Editorial
News stories about a stinky Upper
Klamath Lake and the clouds of midges mean it’s
time to reflect a bit on some of Klamath’s
natural wonders. Of course you might have to
push aside the clouds of smoke to see them. But
at least you can’t blame Klamath County for the
smoke — it’s coming from California wildfires.
The millions of little green bugs can be a great
source of stories. Have you heard the one about
swarms so dense they can break electronic beams
and operate automatic doors? Or about how they
berm up against curbs like green snowdrifts? The
stories are true and so are countless others.
Most people who have been in Klamath Falls for
more than a year or so have lived the stories as
well as told them.
Midges are handy, too. They let people know
where you’re from. When you pull into a gas
station in Medford or Bend, the attendant
doesn’t have to ask. All he has to do is look at
the front of the car. If it looks like it’s
wearing fur, he knows you’re from Klamath.
A lot of local drivers make sure they’re
traveling with extra water and scrub brushes so
they can pull over and clean the windshield once
they get past the worst of it and that’s a good
idea.
But most of the time, the swarms
are only annoying. Midges don’t bite, aren’t
dangerous, other than to visibility, and the
stories can be entertaining. The bugs add to the
local food chain, which includes trophy-sized
trout in Upper Klamath Lake and lots of birds.
Perhaps they wouldn’t be quite so big and quite
so prevalent without the midges.
Parts of Upper Klamath Lake stink at times and
that’s happening now. That’s natural, too,
because of the region’s volcanic origins. That
means rocks are high in phosphorous, which
encourages algae, which in turn dies and smells
bad when it does.
But the same kind of volcanic activity that
occasionally gives us a P.U. kind of shoreline
also created Crater Lake, the nation’s deepest,
bluest lake in the caldera of what was Mount
Mazama. A little stink from time to time is well
worth being home to that mountain gem along with
many other remnants of the region’s molten past
such as Mount McLoughlin and fascinating
geologic landscapes at Lava Beds National
Monument.
Think of such things the next time the lake’s
“bouquet” becomes a little overripe. Or when
you’re hacking on those little green bugs you
accidentally sucked down while walking through
Moore Park. Just tell yourself and anyone around
you, “Ain’t nature wonderful?”
Pat Bushey wrote today’s editorial.