Betty Virginia Park: From Deer Lake to Dog Park – A Tale of Transformation

In a city known for its quirky landmarks and colorful history, there’s one story that stands out like a sore thumb on a pianist: Betty Virginia Park, now a peaceful green space for families and dogs alike, was once a bustling body of water known as Deer Lake. Yes, that’s right—where toddlers now toddle, there used to be fish that probably had no idea they’d someday be replaced by picnickers with sandwich crumbs.

Let’s travel back in time to 1820, when Shreveport wasn’t yet a glimmer in anyone’s eye, and Deer Lake was the hottest spot in town—literally, because air conditioning wouldn’t be invented for another century. Picture it: A sprawling lake nestled between what we now know as Line Avenue and Fairfield Avenue, shimmering under the Southern sun, with steamboats the size of football fields casually gliding across its surface. That’s right—steamboats, not speedboats, because this was the 1820s and the closest thing to a motor was a particularly aggressive breeze.

Now, if you’ve ever driven south on Trabue Street, you might have noticed a peculiar notch in the bluff at the north end of Thornhill Avenue. You might have thought, “Huh, that’s weird,” and continued on your merry way. But in 1820, that notch was the wagon road down to the steamboat landing—yes, there was a steamboat landing—behind what is now the Boy Scout hut. I like to imagine scouts today performing ceremonies, blissfully unaware that their campsite was once the 19th-century equivalent of a cruise ship terminal.

But how, you ask, did water even get into this lake? Shreveport isn’t exactly known for its vast, natural lakes—at least, not anymore. The answer lies in the concrete ditches that crisscross our city like veins in a particularly stubborn piece of meat. If you follow these ditches eastward, you’ll find they connect to the big concrete ditch between Fern Avenue and Gilbert Avenue, which is, in fact, Bayou Pierre. This bayou was once the main channel of the Red River when the current channel was clogged with logs, mud, and probably more than a few disgruntled beavers.

Yes, it seems impossible to believe that 200-foot-long steamboats could traverse the ditch that now meanders by Querbes Golf Course and up through South Highlands. But that’s exactly what they did, navigating their way to the bluff that still stands proudly on the south side of what is now Betty Virginia Park. Today, the only boats you’ll find here are the ones children pretend to captain in the playground, but back then, this was a serious operation.

So, the next time you find yourself enjoying the tranquility of Betty Virginia Park, with dogs frolicking, children laughing, and picnics in full swing, take a moment to remember its watery past. Think about the steamboats, the wagon roads, and the unlikely journey of Bayou Pierre. And if anyone asks you what you’re doing, just smile and say, “I’m contemplating history.”

After all, it’s not every day you get to hang out at a former steamboat hub that’s now the city’s favorite dog park.