With apologies to Norman McClean and his A River Runs Through It, my column this month is going to be an autobiographical story consisting of several vignettes taken from my life experiences that illustrate what a critical role the Fox River has played in many aspects of my life over the years. I was inspired to write this after attending a presentation sponsored by The Conservation Foundation and held at the Yorkville Public Library on January 22, 2025, titled 100 Years Later: A Photo Canoe Trip. It was presented by Scott Johnson who is the grandson of Dick Young, the locally famous botanist who has forest preserves named after hm in both Kane and Kendall Counties. My friend Frank from the Hoover Forest Preserve and I attended together. (NOTE: The series continues in February, March, and April. See The Conservation Foundation’s website for details for both A River Flows Through It at the Baker Center in St. Charles and The Fox River, Our Hidden Gem at the Yorkville Public Library).
Scott’s presentation documented a boat trip down the lower Fox River that his great-grandfather made in July 1912 and documented with 52 excellent photographs. Scott and his uncles recreated the trip in the summer of 2012 and attempted to take photographs in the same spots that his great-grandfather had as they canoed down the river. They were very successful in finding the same spots and it was very interesting to see how some things had changed a lot (like the “falls”, a series of rapids just north of the current Dayton Dam that are now inundated by the dam’s pool) and others hadn’t changed much at all. There’s a lesson there somewhere for all of us in that pageant of continuity and change.
Further adding to my enjoyment was reconnecting at the presentation with an old friend that I used to see almost every day when I fished the river on an almost daily basis. He would kayak past me getting a workout in the rapids below my “secret spot” on the river and we would trade information on the eagles and ospreys that we had seen flying over as we enjoyed our respective favorite pastimes. I never learned his name in those days, but we shared a common bond in our love for the river. He was making some announcements at the presentation, and I thought, “I know that voice,” and went and talked to him after it was over. I asked him if he used to kayak the Fox River near Plano in a blue kayak and he responded, “I still do.” He said, “I thought you looked familiar,” and I reminded him of where we knew each other. We reminisced about our times on the river enjoying our separate pastimes and commented about how the river was the common link that brought us together back then and it brought us together again for the presentation.
He also commented about a presentation that The Conservation Foundation had sponsored last week in Kane County, and it turned out it was Gary Swick’s presentation on Jim Phillips: The Fox. Mike hadn’t been able to attend that presentation, but he heard it was a good one. I told him that I was sure it had been, and that Gary and I talked briefly about it the day before his presentation. I hadn’t been able to attend The Fox presentation either because I had been on a Golden Eagle quest in northwestern Illinois on that day (a successful one at that, but that’s a story for another time).
We talked more about how one time, Mike had helped me help my friend Bob out of my boat at the ramp at Silver Springs after one of our fishing trips together. Bob and I had worked together at IDNR and loved to fish together but, at this time, he was in failing health and was having a hard time with his mobility. Mike was coincidentally coming back to the ramp from one of his kayak outings and was happy to help us. He remembered that day, which turned out to be the last time Bob and I would fish together before his passing. We both commented on the coincidence of us running into each other after all these years.
He talked briefly about muskies on the Fox River and commented that he had heard a 48-incher had been caught down there a few years ago. He asked, “Were you the one that caught him?” and I responded, “No, but two of my friends did!” I recounted that my friends Bryan and Mark had caught the same muskie a year apart, the first occasion being in November when she was 46.5 inches long and weighed 26 pounds and the second being in August of the next year, when she was 49 7/8 inches long and probably close to 35 pounds!
The talk of muskies and eagles and Bob and The Fox reminded me of a story I recounted to Gary on the day of his Fox presentation and recounted to Mike and Frank now. I had been walking along the river at Violet Patch Park one cold winter morning doing some recon work for a future Friends of the Fox River water willow planting, when I discovered a large dead muskie frozen into the shoreline ice. It was a pretty big one so I called Bob because, as a IDNR fisheries biologist, I knew he would be interested in seeing it. He said, “I’ll be right down,” as he lived only minutes away. When he arrived, we walked to the spot where the fish was embedded in the ice. He said, “I thought you said it was a big one,” and pulled out a tape measure and measured it at 45 inches. I said, “That’s a pretty nice one,” and he scoffed at me. Bob liked to tease me…lol!
It was really cold as we walked back toward his truck and my car. Bob said, “Have you seen The Fox memorial yet? It’s down here somewhere.” I said that I hadn’t, so we set out to find it. We walked up and down the path for fifteen minutes, scouring the entire park and didn’t find the memorial. We finally gave up, surrendering to the cold, and headed back to Bob’s truck to go into town to get a hot chocolate at a local donut shop. We sat in the truck as he warmed up the engine, and a large adult Bald Eagle flew up the river and landed in a tree about 100 yards downstream from the parking lot. Even though I knew better, I said “Let’s see how close that eagle will let us get to her.” She could see us in the cab of the truck and looked at us in seeming curiosity. We got out and set off slowly toward her tree. When we got about fifty yards away, she left her perch and flew directly at us to about a distance of fifty feet and no more than twenty feet above us before wheeling and heading out over the river. As she turned, she flew directly above the boulder and three plaques that make up the memorial to The Fox. Bob and I shared a moment of stunned silence before Bob said,
“That was Jim (James F. Phillips), showing us where his memorial was.” I couldn’t disagree.
My point of recounting these stories here is to show how the Fox River has been a common thread through a lot of my experiences and friendships over the years. Without the river, I probably wouldn’t have developed my deep love of fishing and birding that have become such important activities for me. I also wouldn’t have met many of my friends if it hadn’t been for our shared love for the Fox River. The river has been a comforting constant throughout my life from the time I first fished it with my dad and uncles and grandpas right up until today when I hike and bird along its banks. Without my relationship with the river, my life would look very different and be much less fulfilling on many different levels. Like the many great friends I’ve made over the years because of a shared love for the river, the river itself has been a good and constant friend.
I hope it has been to you too. Like we take care of our friends, and they take care of us, we should honor the memory of Jim Phillips (The Fox) and redouble our efforts to take care of our beautiful friend: the Fox River. Until next time, Keep On Fixin’ the Fox!