The river where I live is the very reason there is a place to live. Without its course and the limits (during the late 19th century) of its navigability, the railroad would not have chosen this as most convenient and economical crossing, creating the nexus of exchange between two modes of transport. From that time—circa 1870—to the present, the river has been variously curse, blessing, or general nuisance. Those thoughts must have been at the back of my thinking about the mighty Muskrat when Agincourt was in the early stages of development. Some postcard views of the Blue River, in the Greater Kansas City, MO urban area, had also become a more conscious part in shaping the Muskrat’s role in the city.

I had always imagined the west bank of the river, opposite the city, as a convenient place to recreate and, in the process, erect confabulations like this ramshackle pile. As a non-fisher, I hope you will both approve and also set me straight.