Hidden Worlds

•July 2, 2025•

by Janet Roney

I used to know every hill and ravine in our family’s timber pasture along the Kaskaskia River southeast of Sullivan. At least, that’s what I thought. My frequent hikes of exploration usually began by going under the railroad bridge in the east pasture. There, the Angus cattle herd had worn down the creek banks into a mud flat pockmarked with water-filled cattle hoof prints. 

One spring day, as I was picking my way across the muddy morass on slippery flat stepping stones, I heard the noise of rippling water. A rivulet was gurgling beneath some large red haw bushes along the railroad embankment to my right. 

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