It's the kind of brilliant fall day when even a lowly farm stream takes on the look of a sun-soaked gem. But as Larry Gates and Ralph Lentz tramp along a short section of Sugarloaf Creek in southeastern Minnesota, the two men can see that this waterway's glowing complexion is due to more than seasonal luster. Its grass-covered banks have a gentle slope. The channel is deep. Overhangs at the water's edge offer perfect habitat for fish and other creek residents.
Gates squats next to the fast-running water and scoops up a handful of the creek bed.
He cracks a smile as the water drains through his fingers, leaving a mound of clean gravel. The relatively silt-free material is a sign that little erosion is coming off the pastures adjacent to the creek. It also indicates the current is running fast enough to cleanse itself of excess silt. Lentz steps into the channel, and cold water slurps around his rubber chore boots. The stream is making the babbling-brook sounds associated with fast, narrow waterways.