My poor little creek! What have they done to you?
These yearly ice-ups never cease to amaze us. Once, while walking the wintery banks of another local, we came across a pool that was deep and slow enough that the frazil ice was compressing at the tailout, forming an ice-dam that was causing the now-slurpee consistency water to overflow into the woods. We threw rocks at the dam to see if it would release, but the ice would swallow the rocks with a soft Thsssh sound, often suspending the stones in slushy limbo. That fish can and do survive such icing is still a source of awe and respect for our finny summer dance partners.
Sleep well, friends. We will be together again come runoff.