Alongside Horse Brook, the Flushing River also has a forgotten tributary on its east side that has also largely vanished from the map. Known as Kissena Creek, it originated in Hillcrest, flowing north along Fresh Meadow Lane just east of a hill that later became Flushing Cemetery. The stream then turned west, flowing on the northern side of the Kissena Park Golf Course. The stream then emptied into Kissena Lake, whose spring-fed waters added to the stream. The stream flowed out of the lake, meandering through the park on its way towards the Flushing River. Unless otherwise noted, all of the photos below face upstream.

                                                                                                                   Julius Bien & Co. atlas of 1891

By the early 1930s, city planners wiped Kissena Creek from the map, except for the lake, which was preserved within Kissena Park. The only other exceptions to the endless grid are the Parental Home (future Queens College), cemeteries, and a number of golf clubs. Farms were expected to disappear, while golf course would remain a little longer before succumbing to development.

In reality, this 1929 property map shows the emerging grid coexisting with extant properties and estates. The major roads colored in yellow are the present-day College Point Boulevard, Booth Memorial Avenue, Kissena Boulevard, and Main Street.  At the confluence of Kissena Creek and Flushing River were two isles, owned by the Bowne family, who descended from John Bowne, a founder of Flushing and the inspiration behind the Flushing Remonstrance. Much of Flushing Meadows was an ash dump, used by the Brooklyn Ash Removal Company.

Another name for the Kissena Creek is Ireland Mill Creek, after a colonial period mill that stood where Main Street crossed the stream.. This photo is from a 1908 book about the history of Flushing

Instead of a total grid, the streambed was zoned for parkland instead. In the 1940s, the Long Island Expressway was replacing North Hempstead Turnpike as the area's principal east-west road.

Landfill from the highway excavations was used to fill in the striped areas, which became Kissena Corridor Park. The lower section of Flushing River was narrowed, while its upstream part was dredged to make Meadow Lake.

Whatever remained of Kissena Creek was diverted into a storm sewer.

Self-sustaining:

In comparison to its counterparts in the Bronx and Brooklyn, the Queens Botanical Garden has never been a serious contender in wooing tourists. Until now. An ambitious master plan touts a sustainable ecosystem within the borders of the garden that includes restoring part of Kissena Creek. For now, only the eastern panhandle on this map's master plan is complete.

The botanical garden is in a valley formed by the streambed.

On a rainy day, it's large enough to be classified as a pond. Though it is temporary, this pool of water near Colden Street often lasts for weeks before drying out. Sometimes, ducks and geese congregate there in search of worms. Both of these photos are looking downstream.

Looking upstream, parts of the Kissena Corridor Park are regularly mowed, while other parts are kept in their natural state.

A 1929 property map shows the street grid dissecting the stream. Areas outlined in green indicate parkland that would later be left out of the grid.

Another spot where the stream makes an appearance is at Kissena Boulevard and Peck Avenue. This photo was taken on a rainy day. Such temporary bodies of water are known as vernal pools, and are home to a variety of micro-organisms that feed birds, amphibians, and rodents. Unlike lakes and ponds, vernal pools and swamps receive little respect, seen by humans as breeding grounds for mosquitoes.

Looking across Kissena Boulevard into Kissena Park, we see a vast plain. Hard to believe this is within city limits. The stream runs below this plain.

I had to climb atop a baseball cage to film this view of the buried streambed at the park's western edge.

Among the marshes, the streambed makes temporary appearances in the form of vernal pools.

A stream is born when water emerges out of the ground and flows downhill. Here, a stream emerges out of the bushes.

The Kissena Creek floodplain is easy to see, defined by the tall marshes.

Between Kissena Lake and the creek is a narrow neck of landfill, to prevent the lake from overflowing into the floodplain.

The pipe carrying the stream is wide enough to crawl through. Legal disclaimer: I hereby strongly discourage spelunking in unauthorized areas.

The stream emerges into a swampy area. This is the view from the pipe.

This a view from the early 20th century. At the time, Kissena Park had a rustic look, and the creek freely flowed out of the lake. From A History of Flushing by George von Skal

A century later, much of the creek is confined to sewers, flowing out of the lake in total darkness. The lake itself has also been reduced in size.

The green area in this 1929 property map was later zoned for the Kissena Park golf course. The golf course is on a high hill, so the stream flows around it. The photos below show parts of the stream on the northern side of the golf course.

Let's see if there's any trace of the stream left. This view is looking east.

Sure enough, the stream pops up among the trees.

This vernal pool has a thriving bird colony above it, but the camera-shy critters flew away by the time I arrived.

In other places, caution tape indicates areas where the sewer carrying the stream caved in.

Again, I strongly discourage spelunking in stinky places.

It would take a he-man to open this lid. You can hear the water gushing inside this well.

Looking south and upstream, we would eventually reach the original source of Kissena Creek in the present-day Hillcrest neighborhood.

Looking downstream to the corner of Fresh Meadow Lane and Underhill Avenue, the stream emerges out of the hill, and begins its fractured path to the sea.

 NYPL Collection, ca.1929 Photo is not for commercial use

When the Ice Age retreated, it left behind kettle ponds, where remaining chunks of ice melted away. One of those ponds was on the site of the Utopia Playground, at Utopia Parkway and 73rd Avenue. Here, the groundwater from beneath Hillcrest would pour into the pond, from which Kissena Creek flowed out. By the 1940s, the pond was drained, and a playground was built. The triangular lot on which playground stands also marks the eastern end of Jewel Avenue.

The city's latest renovation for the playground involves the Divine Proportion, which comes in the shape of the nautilus shell. What this has to do with Utopia baffles mw. Why the architects chose to off-center the heart of the curl also lacks explanation. Could it have been the site of the spring that fed the stream?

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