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Ice, Ice Baby

By Pippi Mayfield
Staff Writer

     Christopher Columbus stared out across the ocean, beginning to think there was no end in sight. Farmers sitting on their tractors, looking out over the prairie probably think the same thing. They may all believe: The end of the world may be right over the edge.
     About 14,000 years ago, a glacier covered the Red River Basin. Today, the Red River Valley exists in what was the southern portion of Glacier Lake Agassiz and what is now the center of Red River Basin. According to the Minnesota Pollution Control Agency, the Red River Valley stretches from 315 miles south by Lake Traverse to Lake Winnipeg in the north. It is about 60 miles wide.
     Many people from the area—or those just visiting—may feel like North Dakota is the end of the world. The flatness and the prairies influenced several poets to write about how vague the land can seem.
     In the poem “Early Cutting” by Roland Flint, he describes the land as it is now. He compares our land as being so flat that it was the end of the world, much like Columbus might have felt while discovering America.



     Where they call it the Red River Valley of the North
     there are no mountains,
     the floor is wide as
     a glacial lake—Agassiz,
     the fields go steady to the horizon,
     sunflower, potato,
     summerfallow, corn,
     and so flat that a shallow ditch
     can make tractor drivers think of Columbus
     and the edge.

       Flint was born in Park River, N.D., in 1934. He lived in the area and received his Bachelor of Arts in English from the University of North Dakota. He moved to Washington, D.C., and taught at Georgetown University for almost 30 years. He died Jan. 2, 2001.
     Another local poet, Mark Vinz, has written a couple poems that describe how he views North Dakota and the effect Lake Agassiz has had on the land. In his poem “Long, Long Ago,” Vinz describes the lakeland's desolate outlook.


    
                         I live in a dry lakebed,
                         flat and literal ...
                         still listen to ships passing,
                         though there aren't many.

    “If you understand that, you understand my fascination,” says Vinz, English professor at Minnesota State University Moorhead. “I’ve done no research, only used the reference a couple times in poems.”
    Before the glacier, the land was quite sparse, says Russell Colson, Minnesota State University Moorhead professor of anthropology and earth science. Although there were a limited number of living things in the area before the glacier, anthropologists found insects that can determine the change in the climate.
    “There weren’t many fossils in the lake itself,” Colson says. “There aren’t so many fish because it was so cold. It was a lot like it is today in any other arctic place.”
    Many years before the glacier, about half-way back to the dinosaur age, the Red River Valley area was considered a semi-tropical climate. Swamps and semi-tropical forest existed. The climate was a lot like Florida, Colson says.
     “Leaf fossils have been found in North Dakota that are from tropical plants,” he says.
    As the glacier began to melt, Lake Agassiz formed. Lake Agassiz was named in 1879 after Swiss-born naturalist and geologist Louis Agassiz, who conducted extensive studies on the movement of glaciers, according to the MPCA.
    The glacier caused a dam in the river, said Colson. The lake drained through the Minnesota River to the Mississippi River. The melting was pretty fast, not gradual. It was short, geologically speaking.
     “Lake Agassiz was the most significant to our area in the early stages,” Colson says. “[The lake] caused the Moorhead Delta. As it melted back, it found other outlets.”
    As the water cleared, the Cheyenne River became one of the major rivers at the time, he said. It was as large as the Mississippi River is in New Orleans.
    Before the glacier, there were animals and humans roaming the earth.
    According to Kevin Callahan, a member of the anthropology department at the University of Minnesota, large-bodied animals like the wholly mammoth, wild horses and giant bison adapted to the cold environment. North American mammoths lived on open prairies from Minnesota to the Southwest and were the largest of all mammoths. They drank 40 gallons of water and ate 600 pounds of vegetation a day. A mammoth would provide over a ton of meat.
    Dakota, or Sioux, Native Americans lived in central or western Minnesota. Assiniboins were found in northeast Minnesota, and Cheyenne were found in the lower Red River, Callahan said on his Web site. In 1931, a highway crew working on a road in Pelican Rapids, Otter Tail County, in western Minnesota, came across the bones of a Minnesota man. The remains have now been renamed the “Minnesota Woman” after re-examination of the bones.
    Vinz expressed his feeling the presence of the past in a poem entitled “Living on the Edge of Dakota”:

     A stopping place, a far country,
     an ancient lakebed where the
     grandfathers are never still."
     So what caused the glacier in the first place?
     “It got cold,” Colson said with smile.

 

     The earth tilts; it changes position over much time, Colson said. Sunlight strikes the earth at different times as the earth changes its position. This could cause the extended amount of coldness to cause a glacier. This is the most widely accepted theory. 
      Other theories include the world’s chemistry and changes in ocean currents distributing energy. For instance, when El Ninõ and other weather catastrophes occur, this can cause weather changes all the way through the Red River Valley.

“Little things far away can have a big effect you wouldn’t predict,” he said.

“The only fascination [with Lake Agassiz] is the imagination that we live on the bottom of an ancient lake is mind-blowing,” said Vinz.

 
     By imperceptible degrees
     on sky-wide steppes the road ascends
     past grain, grass, hedgerows, isles of trees.
     An undulant horizon bends
     loosely about us we reach
     each buried sandbar that contains
     the glacial Agassiz that drains
     from beach to prehistoric beach.


     Highway 10, Minnesota
     —Mary Pryor


   
 
 

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