When I first scanned Pennsylvania’s Susquehanna River below Selinsgrove, I was as mad as heck. Someone, I thought, had dumped white paint, or some milky substance, on the river. The pollution covered a wide backwater, dense as a rainy day cloud.
But the closer I got to the shoreline, eventually sticking my wader feet into the slow edges, I saw this wasn’t a chemical scum at all. It was a floating carpet of formerly living things. Bugs exactly: the flimsy, feather-light carcasses of a mayfly anglers call the whitefly.
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