For too long, the Cuyahoga ferried factory oil and debris. She caught fire in the sixties. Today, she’s healed enough to nurture young sturgeon again. Hundreds of Clevelanders line the winding waterway, waiting for a bucket holding a single juvenile. My husband and I stare at ours—seven inches long, striped with ancient ridges, fins finely etched. Sweating in the heat, we descend a ramp, loose her into the water. With luck, she’ll outwit catfish and other predators, migrate to Lake Erie—where sturgeon once grew enormous, outlived humans. Eighteenth-century sailors reported a fearsome, fifty-foot, flippered snake roiling her waters. They named her Bessie.

this small fry
the next Lake Erie Monster
watch her wriggle away