Sunday, September 13, 2015
Friday, September 11, 2015
Please accept my request for a week's vacation - to start immediately.
My customers and co-workers are very supportive of the idea.
now, where the hell are my keys
come on, they were right here a minute ago
what have I done with that fly box
my five weight should be right there!!
waders, where the hell are my waders
glasses? oh sweet Jesus
babble, babble, babble................................
Friday, September 4, 2015
The hazelnut crop here is the most abundant that I have ever seen
so naturally enough, I couldn't leave them alone
i put too much time in
and now they need cracking
junkie stuff indeed
the youngster flushed two coveys of grouse on the short walk-in from the road
i think we'll back in a couple of weeks
might early grouse taste of filbert
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
It is not unusual to hook a pike while fishing for crappie and bluegill
It is usual for said pike to dive into the pondweed or the chara never to be pulled out
Or to snip the tippet
A four weight and three pound leader isn't exactly pike gear
So when a pike of interesting size behaves well
And comes alongside the kayak
Whipped, after a few good runs and sounds
It is an unusual event that seems to deem a measurement and a snapshot
But bringing a twelve pound pike into a twelve foot boat?
Nothing good can come of that
So let's just unhook and estimate
They are bigger memories then
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Out for a little paddle at dusk to procure a crappie fillet or two. Stealth is required, as the water clarity is pushing twenty three feet. The last stroke is made about 50 yards from the fishing spot so that I silently drift up to the edge of the weed bed. The bottom falls away to forty-three feet deep. A fish inhales the little jig about halfway down, and as I set the hook, my attention goes to a six point buck that clambers down the steep bank and into the water. He hears the crappie splash as it reaches the surface and instantly freezes both body and stare at the old grizzly guy in the little boat. The buck scrambles back uphill and disappears under the lower boughs of a big spruce as the flopping crappie comes unpinned.
I catch and lose a few more fish while listening to the deer bang around in the near shore woods. A rustling of brush or a thrashing of a bush and a few good clacks and whacks for good measure. Action packed. Then some splashing and movement to my right 50 yards farther on. Where the wetland necks down the valley to meet the lake proper. The high cattails obscure the commotion. It is past sunset and too far away. My little camera won't reproduce shit. But hey, I'll take the shot.........
Three bucks single file it across the little wetland neck. Heads above the screening vegetation. First the six pointer that clattered down the hill. Right behind him an eight pointer takes the same line. And then another eight pointer - higher and wider than number two.
Snap snap snap. Two crappies in the bag. Paddle home. Kiss summer goodbye.