We ask them to slow down, with dams; speed up with channelization and riprap walls; go here, not there; and stay away from where we have built but be close enough to be useful. There might be wry comments about muddying their waters, polluting it, sucking vast quantities away and disrupting the natural rhythms of annual flow, even as we rely on their life-giving flows. It’s a head-scratcher.

Rivers might be incredulous that we would blame them for floods, especially the extreme, repetitive ones. Rivers might rightfully argue they don’t cause floods— they merely provide the conduit for flood waters. Flood waters that are, in part, exacerbated and accentuated by logging clearcuts, a lattice-work of roads and, sometimes our flood control measures. The raging flow, spilling out, consuming bridges, fields, houses and stately cottonwoods as the river gags on water that could have been absorbed for a later slow, sedate release. Blaming the river is like blaming the hammer that you used to hit your own finger.

We remove large volumes of water, often when rivers need those flows most to revitalize their beds and banks. It seems like multiple abuse, blame for flooding, then throttling back on flow later, to starve the river. In a poor bargain, then replacing these essential flows with a dribble of often polluted return water. 

We can begin, again, to respect and honour our rivers. There are indicators that can tell us if a river is healthy or, if missing, inspire us to consider some restoration. Rivers appreciate flows that have natural variability since variation in flows is critical to the ecosystem that a river supports. 

Spring floods are essential to reset the ecological clock, providing new sediment bars for the seeds of cottonwood trees to establish. Substrates of gravel are cleansed of sediment and new pools are created, mandatory for aquatic life. Our engineering works strive to even out flows and provide the illusion of flood protection, contrary to what the river needs. If asked, a river would prefer not to be a canal, or a ditch. 

A river without water, or even much water ceases to be a river, so a river would appreciate it if an adequate and appropriate amount of water always flows down its channel. There are ecological imperatives and thresholds for the right amount of water. Suitable flows maintain the structure of a river channel—its pools where fish escape the ever-present current and riffles where the agitation of the water over cobble and boulders entrains air, allowing the aquatic community to breathe. When these flows occur, the wastes we flush into the river are assimilated and cleansed, much to the relief of downstream users.