Welcome back to the diaries. Spring has quickly turned into summer, wet soggy summer around Nimrod's land. But ya know... some guy wrote a song about rain.. its a good thing.
Since the last adventure into the jungle I have shied away from the creek. Things at work and in life have been keeping the Nimrod clan busy as a one legged mule at a man kicking contest. We have managed a few wild excursions but time and laziness, mainly the later, have prevented me from updating the diaries. Feel free to play mule at the man kicking contest the next time you see me.
First we will discuss the Fathers Day fishing expedition we had. Mud and I conjured up a brilliant idea to take Red and Monkey out for a special trip. There wasn't anything exceptionally special about the trip it just coincided with Fathers Day.
Mud and crew loaded up the Mud machine, SS Mud and all, and headed to baseops. I was stuck working the night before. I had planned to squeeze in as much beauty sleep as I could. Yoop quickly pointed out that no matter how much I got it wouldn't help. With the limitation of having to be at a Cub Scout leader party early evening, I decided to forgo most my beauty sleep. When I got up, I can say with certainty, the lack of beauty sleep didn't hurt. Didn't help either but we won't go there.
We loaded up the Shaggin Wagon and made our way to baseops. Mud and Red were ready when we arrived. Monkey and I weren't. After a pit stop and some sun block for Monkey, we all loaded up in the Mud Machine and set off for the lake.
The SS Mud was following us nicely on the trailer. We got to the lake where the SS Mud made her maiden voyage for us. Mud back her into the channel. He kept going back and back. Soon I feared the Mud Machine would get stuck. I signaled him to stop and man handled her off the trailer into the water, wondering where the 10+ inches of rain we had gotten in the last few weeks had gone.
The SS Mud is a fine vessel. Four bench style seats. Well, three Bench style seats and miniature seat at the bow. Mud was on the bench in the stern. Moving forward Red had the next bench and then Monkey. As you've prolly figured out, I was left crunched on to the miniature seat at the bow.
Mud used the electric motor to get us out of the channel and the gas motor fired right up, this time. We move to a sunken island to the north end of the lake. I helped Monkey ready his pole. While I retired his hook on, I told him to dig into the bucket for a worm.
Since I had worked evenings leading up to this adventures, Monkey and Yoop had collected worms out of the back yard at the Nimrod Ranch. Over a few days they had captured about half of an one gallon ice cream bucket. The worms were housed in thea gallon ice cream bucket, in the Nimrod family fridge until we took them along for the adventure of (to end) their life.
Mud and I found a spot we thought would be good and went to anchor. While the SS Mud is a fine vessel, I blame any accessories on Mud. Anyway we each took our anchor and plopped it in the water. As I was feed the rope down, I heard Mud say “the rope is too short.” Rather I thought I heard him say it. As I got the end of my anchor rope, I turned to him and said “its too deep for your rope.”
“Yea, mine too,” he replied.
“Think your gonna need more rope next time,” I proffered.
He replied with a look fit for a wife mad at her husband.
Just then Monkey squealed that he caught a fish. I coached him to reel it in and a short time later he landed the first fish of the day. A nice perch. A bit on the short side, say three inches long at most, but the boy was as proud as a hen who just laid an egg.
We toured the lake, moving from point to point in search of fish. We kept moving, not cause we wanted to; it was because we couldn't stay in one spot cause of the short anchor ropes. I didn't mind, I only reminded Mud once or ten times.
We approached an area where on the maiden voyage yielded us a nice catch of specs. Red caught nice nice 12 inch bass. That was her first bass ever. She had caught one before but insisted this was the first one ever. We messed back and forth, but the discussion ended with it being her first, but not her first all at the same time.
It was a good day on the lake. Which as always beat a good day at work, or at the mall or doing yard work, or one of many on a long list of things that are less enjoyable than fishing on Fathers day with the kiddos.
Stay tuned for more entries. Yoop played the mule and I really need to finish the summer entries before the fall hunting season kick off.. soon enough Nimrod will be back in the woods, Kabekona (or Kodiak Mag) in hand. Chasing the wily whitetail.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
Hand fishing the jungle.
Welcome back.. I hate how Spring comes, ya make grandiose plans and they get interrupted by life. Mainly family but Life in general. Life is to my plans like Murph is to the execution.. not good.
Midday, while Monkey was at his institute of higher education and Yoop and Munda were doing midday girlie things, Ol Nimrod set off for a quick adventure.
We had bunches and bunches of rain over night, to the tune of 3 to inches. Once Lake Nimrod in the front yard soaked in, my mind turned to a small creek nearby. Heavy rain, run off, brook trout... eating the increased amount of food.. oh yea!!
Rushing out the door, I grabbed my swampers and bug spray then set off to the creek. The sled is waiting for repairs; more accurately waiting on me to get around to replacing some parts. So it was the 2 wheel drive monstrosity Yoop has under her ownership. The old Yoopmobile decided to call it quits on us during a trip back from Yooperland. After a long and hard search we found the perfect replacement.
The new beast has everything but the kitchen sink and transfer case and fuel efficient engine and driver side rear door. It does have some very comfy seats, lots of room, neat over head interior running lights, a radio (major improvement for my sanity on that one) and a bed. Yep a bed. Would be the perfect hunting and fishing rig if it had a transfer case, but I will have to be content with a bed instead.
Anyway, I set off from the house in the Shaggin' Wagon. With in a few minutes I was at the parking area of the creek. I looked at the water and realized I should have brought my chest waders not swampers. I grabbed the fly rod, soaked myself in some skeeter dope and set off toward the creek.
The trail is not new, its actually rather old. I think its where the Indians used to park their cars when they came fishing before the white man invaded their land. Yet once I got about a foot into the trail I could barely make it out.. it was a jungle. Spring was certainly here and the warm wet weather had done its work. Everything was green and thick. Nearly impenetrable. I worked my way through the knee high weeds, using the fly rod as a machete.
I searched back and forth for a spot to cast from the shore but there were no places open enough to cast. I checked the depth with my pole and found it a little too deep for my swampers.
I tossed the line out and it quickly got caught is some deadfall. Tried it again and the line wrapped around a branch above me. I took one step into the water to clear the overhead limbs and was reminded about the depth of the water when the cool creek water filled my swampers. I decided a few hand thrown casts would count as a day fishing and gathered my gear then headed back to the Shaggin' Wagon. I reached the beast, took off my swampers and watered a nearby wild flower. Packed up my stuff and called it a day. Two hand tossed casts, that never reached the water, were more than enough to call it a good day fishing.
Midday, while Monkey was at his institute of higher education and Yoop and Munda were doing midday girlie things, Ol Nimrod set off for a quick adventure.
We had bunches and bunches of rain over night, to the tune of 3 to inches. Once Lake Nimrod in the front yard soaked in, my mind turned to a small creek nearby. Heavy rain, run off, brook trout... eating the increased amount of food.. oh yea!!
Rushing out the door, I grabbed my swampers and bug spray then set off to the creek. The sled is waiting for repairs; more accurately waiting on me to get around to replacing some parts. So it was the 2 wheel drive monstrosity Yoop has under her ownership. The old Yoopmobile decided to call it quits on us during a trip back from Yooperland. After a long and hard search we found the perfect replacement.
The new beast has everything but the kitchen sink and transfer case and fuel efficient engine and driver side rear door. It does have some very comfy seats, lots of room, neat over head interior running lights, a radio (major improvement for my sanity on that one) and a bed. Yep a bed. Would be the perfect hunting and fishing rig if it had a transfer case, but I will have to be content with a bed instead.
Anyway, I set off from the house in the Shaggin' Wagon. With in a few minutes I was at the parking area of the creek. I looked at the water and realized I should have brought my chest waders not swampers. I grabbed the fly rod, soaked myself in some skeeter dope and set off toward the creek.
The trail is not new, its actually rather old. I think its where the Indians used to park their cars when they came fishing before the white man invaded their land. Yet once I got about a foot into the trail I could barely make it out.. it was a jungle. Spring was certainly here and the warm wet weather had done its work. Everything was green and thick. Nearly impenetrable. I worked my way through the knee high weeds, using the fly rod as a machete.
I searched back and forth for a spot to cast from the shore but there were no places open enough to cast. I checked the depth with my pole and found it a little too deep for my swampers.
I tossed the line out and it quickly got caught is some deadfall. Tried it again and the line wrapped around a branch above me. I took one step into the water to clear the overhead limbs and was reminded about the depth of the water when the cool creek water filled my swampers. I decided a few hand thrown casts would count as a day fishing and gathered my gear then headed back to the Shaggin' Wagon. I reached the beast, took off my swampers and watered a nearby wild flower. Packed up my stuff and called it a day. Two hand tossed casts, that never reached the water, were more than enough to call it a good day fishing.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
All Cooped Up
What up cool cats? Hope y'all have been funkin' it on the real. Nimrod has been cooped up quite literally. Yet again I come back, and yet again you come back. You know around here we keep on truckin'.
A few days back Monkey and I were out working in the yard. “Working” by the way, is a covert term I often use to get out of the house and it rarely involves actual work. Yoop and Munda were in the house cause the weather was not great to have the little lady outside.
While working on the swing with Monkey, Yoop come out and said, you really need to build the chicken coop. She had been nagging me for, oh I don't know, about a month to build the coop, but I had just been putting it off.
I said “I know, whats the urgency this time?”
“Number Four was just in the sink.”
“Was the water on?”
“No. Just get it done.”
This conversation has happened before, but something about it this time made me think she really meant it. Maybe because it came with out the normal threat of having me sleep with the chickens all I knew was for my own safety I should really build the coop. It would also be nice to step out of the shower and not have 5 chickens staring at me like they had plans for me once I fell asleep.
Monkey and I finished our work for the night and after everyone went to sleep I put those Reefer drafting skills to work. After a short time I had a rough, very rough sketch of what I was planning on building. Good thing Yoop didn't wake up.. she thought I had drawn the plans a few weeks earlier. Instead I had watch some hunting shows on the DVR. Don't tell her, my personal safety may rest in your ability to keep your mouth shut. Pretty please!
OK enough groveling. The real reason I caved into Yoops demanding demands was I didn't want my Turkey season to be interrupted by messing around with poultry housing.
The next morning I retrieved the required building supplies and started making the poultry Mansion. My building skills are nearly as good as my hunting and fishing skills, so I knew this was going to turn into one of the all time best chicken coops created by mankind. Numbers One thru Five were not going to know what to do with themselves... it was going to be awesome!
The build started out normally. Measure once and cut twice is the adage I learned long ago when building. Even Monkey was in on the action. He would help me measure and then run like a deer who caught whiff of a Nimrod fart when the saw was in my hand. He also contributed by not letting me get too much in a groove, asking repeatedly to be pushed in his swing. Usually as I was getting ready to make a cut, for the second time.
Late afternoon the basic structure of the Mansion was taking shape. It had been hard but miserable work, especially since the weatherguy ordered record high temperatures for the area. I emailed the weatherguy to voice my displeasure over his choice in weather. He responded claiming that I had emailed him asking for the warm weather because chickens had been staring at me in the shower. While the peeping peepers were annoying I would not have hung my laundry out is such a way. Checking my sent messages I was not able to find any I sent him. My brain gears were turning.
Between refills on daddy pops, measuring once and cutting twice and pushing Monkey on his swing I was sweating like a pig heading to the market. The sweat was in my eyes and all over my hands but Ole Nimrod keep on truckin'.
After the frame was built I started putting the Devils fence on the frame. I quickly figured out where this stuff got its name. Its sharp, poking and gets caught on any piece of clothing you get near it. Working the Devils fence around the frame I began to wonder if doing this myself was worth the scrapes and pokes I was getting all over my body. Then I remembered I couldn't trust such an important structure to anyone but myself.
Over all things went well, I only had to measure twice a few times. The only time I sustained any sort of injury was when I was nailing the staples holding the Devils fence to the frame. I was concentrating on getting the fence lined up perfectly and when I started to tap on the staple something bumped be from behind. This caused me to increase the velocity of the swing and tap the tip of my bow hand index finger with the hammer. The blood blister formed instantly and brought back the familiar feeling of pain. Ahhh... blood blisters are good for the soul.
Instantly, after a minute of adult content spewing from my mouth, I turned to see what had bumped me. No one was around. Monkey had gotten bored helping from the swingset and was inside with Yoop and Munda. Both Fido's were also in being lazy in the excruciating heat. One through Five were still cooped up in the can. Weird.
A few more hours of wrestling the Devils fence, I finally finished 90% of the Mansion. It was missing a roof, but I didn't have enough lumber to make one. It will require another trip to the hardware store. I strutted like a spring Gobbler into the house to get Yoop and Monkey. I walked them out, explaining the Mansion was missing its roof but that would be coming tomorrow after yet another trip to the hardware store.
Yoop and Monkey circled the Mansion, checking out all the angles. Monkey squealed his approval and then ran to the swingset. Yoop continued her assessment making a second loop around.
“Its better than the dog house you built while we were in Texas,” she quipped.
“Gee thanks,” I responded knowing the jab wasn't a compliment at all.
Side note on the Texas dog house, I built it the morning of September 11, 2001, after watching my fellow Americans being attacked in NYC. Instead of being square and solid, it turned out more of a rhombus shape and was not overly sturdy. I must add it held up for about three years before old Muttly broke it.
Getting a bit impatient by Yoops hawk like surveillance of the Mansion, I asked “So, what do you think?”
“Not bad, especially for you.”
“So its good once I get the roof boards tomorrow?”
“Sure, but how are we going to get One through Five inside at night?”
“These doors on the back, there are two so you only have to open one to get the eggs once the start laying,” I replied confidently.
“Oh ok. How are we going to feed and water them?” Yoop professed.
“Right... hmmm...” I rambled
How were we going to get in and out to feed and water them? Or put them up for the night away from natures scavengers? I know I would not have over looked such a vital piece of the Mansion during the drafting phase. Brain gears were working overtime now. Weird.
I went and checked out my drawing and found the faint, erased lines of what originally were going to be a side door. How did they get erased? I pulled my pencil from my ear and found no eraser on the end. It wasn't me but then again why would I set myself up for failure?
By this time Yoop, apparently content with smashing my pride in workmanship, had gone to push Monkey and Munda on the swingset. I assessed the problem and grabbed the Devils fence cutters and cut a hole in the fence.
I fashioned up a door frame out of mismatched boards that were all to short. I measured once and cut twice on some small boards for a door. Screwed it all together and hung it on some hinges. Considering it was Nimrod made it turned out surprisingly well. Even swings smoothly. Sometimes even a blind squirrel finds a nut.
The next morning I got the roof boards and put the roof on. After nearly two full days of being cooped up building a coop I was finally done and could fly the coop.
The Mansion was a thing of beauty. I sat back, opened another daddy pop and thought Nimrod may just spend the first night in the Mansion himself...
A few days back Monkey and I were out working in the yard. “Working” by the way, is a covert term I often use to get out of the house and it rarely involves actual work. Yoop and Munda were in the house cause the weather was not great to have the little lady outside.
While working on the swing with Monkey, Yoop come out and said, you really need to build the chicken coop. She had been nagging me for, oh I don't know, about a month to build the coop, but I had just been putting it off.
I said “I know, whats the urgency this time?”
“Number Four was just in the sink.”
“Was the water on?”
“No. Just get it done.”
This conversation has happened before, but something about it this time made me think she really meant it. Maybe because it came with out the normal threat of having me sleep with the chickens all I knew was for my own safety I should really build the coop. It would also be nice to step out of the shower and not have 5 chickens staring at me like they had plans for me once I fell asleep.
Monkey and I finished our work for the night and after everyone went to sleep I put those Reefer drafting skills to work. After a short time I had a rough, very rough sketch of what I was planning on building. Good thing Yoop didn't wake up.. she thought I had drawn the plans a few weeks earlier. Instead I had watch some hunting shows on the DVR. Don't tell her, my personal safety may rest in your ability to keep your mouth shut. Pretty please!
OK enough groveling. The real reason I caved into Yoops demanding demands was I didn't want my Turkey season to be interrupted by messing around with poultry housing.
The next morning I retrieved the required building supplies and started making the poultry Mansion. My building skills are nearly as good as my hunting and fishing skills, so I knew this was going to turn into one of the all time best chicken coops created by mankind. Numbers One thru Five were not going to know what to do with themselves... it was going to be awesome!
The build started out normally. Measure once and cut twice is the adage I learned long ago when building. Even Monkey was in on the action. He would help me measure and then run like a deer who caught whiff of a Nimrod fart when the saw was in my hand. He also contributed by not letting me get too much in a groove, asking repeatedly to be pushed in his swing. Usually as I was getting ready to make a cut, for the second time.
Late afternoon the basic structure of the Mansion was taking shape. It had been hard but miserable work, especially since the weatherguy ordered record high temperatures for the area. I emailed the weatherguy to voice my displeasure over his choice in weather. He responded claiming that I had emailed him asking for the warm weather because chickens had been staring at me in the shower. While the peeping peepers were annoying I would not have hung my laundry out is such a way. Checking my sent messages I was not able to find any I sent him. My brain gears were turning.
Between refills on daddy pops, measuring once and cutting twice and pushing Monkey on his swing I was sweating like a pig heading to the market. The sweat was in my eyes and all over my hands but Ole Nimrod keep on truckin'.
After the frame was built I started putting the Devils fence on the frame. I quickly figured out where this stuff got its name. Its sharp, poking and gets caught on any piece of clothing you get near it. Working the Devils fence around the frame I began to wonder if doing this myself was worth the scrapes and pokes I was getting all over my body. Then I remembered I couldn't trust such an important structure to anyone but myself.
Over all things went well, I only had to measure twice a few times. The only time I sustained any sort of injury was when I was nailing the staples holding the Devils fence to the frame. I was concentrating on getting the fence lined up perfectly and when I started to tap on the staple something bumped be from behind. This caused me to increase the velocity of the swing and tap the tip of my bow hand index finger with the hammer. The blood blister formed instantly and brought back the familiar feeling of pain. Ahhh... blood blisters are good for the soul.
Instantly, after a minute of adult content spewing from my mouth, I turned to see what had bumped me. No one was around. Monkey had gotten bored helping from the swingset and was inside with Yoop and Munda. Both Fido's were also in being lazy in the excruciating heat. One through Five were still cooped up in the can. Weird.
A few more hours of wrestling the Devils fence, I finally finished 90% of the Mansion. It was missing a roof, but I didn't have enough lumber to make one. It will require another trip to the hardware store. I strutted like a spring Gobbler into the house to get Yoop and Monkey. I walked them out, explaining the Mansion was missing its roof but that would be coming tomorrow after yet another trip to the hardware store.
Yoop and Monkey circled the Mansion, checking out all the angles. Monkey squealed his approval and then ran to the swingset. Yoop continued her assessment making a second loop around.
“Its better than the dog house you built while we were in Texas,” she quipped.
“Gee thanks,” I responded knowing the jab wasn't a compliment at all.
Side note on the Texas dog house, I built it the morning of September 11, 2001, after watching my fellow Americans being attacked in NYC. Instead of being square and solid, it turned out more of a rhombus shape and was not overly sturdy. I must add it held up for about three years before old Muttly broke it.
Getting a bit impatient by Yoops hawk like surveillance of the Mansion, I asked “So, what do you think?”
“Not bad, especially for you.”
“So its good once I get the roof boards tomorrow?”
“Sure, but how are we going to get One through Five inside at night?”
“These doors on the back, there are two so you only have to open one to get the eggs once the start laying,” I replied confidently.
“Oh ok. How are we going to feed and water them?” Yoop professed.
“Right... hmmm...” I rambled
How were we going to get in and out to feed and water them? Or put them up for the night away from natures scavengers? I know I would not have over looked such a vital piece of the Mansion during the drafting phase. Brain gears were working overtime now. Weird.
I went and checked out my drawing and found the faint, erased lines of what originally were going to be a side door. How did they get erased? I pulled my pencil from my ear and found no eraser on the end. It wasn't me but then again why would I set myself up for failure?
By this time Yoop, apparently content with smashing my pride in workmanship, had gone to push Monkey and Munda on the swingset. I assessed the problem and grabbed the Devils fence cutters and cut a hole in the fence.
I fashioned up a door frame out of mismatched boards that were all to short. I measured once and cut twice on some small boards for a door. Screwed it all together and hung it on some hinges. Considering it was Nimrod made it turned out surprisingly well. Even swings smoothly. Sometimes even a blind squirrel finds a nut.
The next morning I got the roof boards and put the roof on. After nearly two full days of being cooped up building a coop I was finally done and could fly the coop.
The Mansion was a thing of beauty. I sat back, opened another daddy pop and thought Nimrod may just spend the first night in the Mansion himself...
Hooked on fishin'
Spring has sprung and it seems like summer is here. The first half of the Spring Turkey season is winding down and I am gearing up for the late season. I still have a week before my season starts so I needed to find a way to burn off some energy. Yoop suggested Monkey and I go fishing a little bit at the fishing hole. It sounded like a good idea and he seemed to think so also. Game on.
Monkey and I gathered our fishing stuff, stole the tub of chicken worms and set off to the fishing hole. Surprisingly the heep started right up... guess we weren't the only ones rearing to get out of the house. We made it to the fishing hole in a few minutes, Monkey hoped out of the Heep and ran to the lake. He was about to take a step into the water when I reminded him its not summer and we shouldn't just jump in.
After a few minutes of convincing him that letting him get in the water would get me in hot water with Yoop, he finally gave up and wanted to go fishing. He picked out a nice plump earthworm out of the chicken worm tub. Crazy Yoop has been collecting worms out of the leaf piles behind the house. In her mind the effort is two fold; it will make it easier to find worms to feed the chickens and cheaper than buying worms when Monkey and I go fishing. Gotta love that girl!
I worked Monkeys chosen worm onto his hook, and asked if he wanted to cast it out or if he wanted me too. This is a valid question as he is still working on his casting technique and this was the first time out for the season. He confidently state “I can do it” yanked the pole out of my hand and walked to the water.
When its safe to do so, I like letting people work on there own at learning and perfecting of a skill. So I stepped back and let Monkey do his thing trying to cast the worm out into the lake. At first I expected him to just cast it out half way across the lake using perfect form... he is part Yooper ya know.
As I readied my pole, I watched the young Nimrod out the corner of my eye and he ended up getting my full attention. He readied his rod, took a good stance, wound his body up and spun around in perfect discus form. The worm, hook and bobber ended up on the shore about 20 feet away from us. Not to be deterred he reeled in his line and readied for another attempt.
He again readied his pole, took a good stance, wound his body up and spun around in perfect discus form. This time went a wee bit different than the first. I was looking out into the lake expecting him to place it perfectly along the break where the fish were hanging out on this rather cool windy spring evening. While starring intently at the setting sun, I felt a tap on the back of my shirt. I swatted at it never taking my eyes off suns blinding effects on the lake.
After a few seconds of not seeing the worm, hook and bobber land in the lake, I turned to Monkey and wondered what had happen. His approach and spin seemed to be prefect the second time around. When my eye caught him I realized something was amiss. He had the looked of terror in his eyes.
“Did you hook yourself?” I asked,
“No daddy... I got you!!!”
Instantly, after a few seconds to think what happened, I realized the bump on my back was the chicken worm and hook smacking me after another mis-cast by Monkey.
“Dude.. don't move” I told him.
Turning with his rod while reeling in for another attempt he replies “What?”
“STOP!!!” I squealed, hoping he would comply instantly.
“Daddy, what do you want?” he asked, still turning and reeling.
“Monkey... just stop everything NOW, before you hook Dad instead of a fish.”
“Oh.”
Thinking I finally got his attention I start to carefully move to take the hook out of my shirt. Not one to do thing behind anyone's back, including my own, I quickly realized I was not going to be able to remove the hook while working blindly behind my back.
As I started to take my shirt off, Monkey stated “Dad you can't do that... no one wants to see it.”
“What?” I responded.
“Daddy leave your shirt on, no one wants your shirt off.”
“Its OK, buddy, I have to take it off to get your hook our of my back, or else you won't be able to fish anymore,” I answered, in an attempt to explain the severity of the situation. It didn't seem to help but he put his rod down and walked off to find something to play with near the water.
After I removed the monstrous hook I breathed a sigh of relief. A hair closer and that size 16 hook could have pierced my kidney. But Ole Nimrod is a machine.
We continued fishing until just before dark. Monkey got back in the groove from last year and was making some nice casts. Just before we left I told Monkey the fish must not be hungry tonight.
He replied “No dad, the fish must be sleeping already.”
Monkey and I gathered our fishing stuff, stole the tub of chicken worms and set off to the fishing hole. Surprisingly the heep started right up... guess we weren't the only ones rearing to get out of the house. We made it to the fishing hole in a few minutes, Monkey hoped out of the Heep and ran to the lake. He was about to take a step into the water when I reminded him its not summer and we shouldn't just jump in.
After a few minutes of convincing him that letting him get in the water would get me in hot water with Yoop, he finally gave up and wanted to go fishing. He picked out a nice plump earthworm out of the chicken worm tub. Crazy Yoop has been collecting worms out of the leaf piles behind the house. In her mind the effort is two fold; it will make it easier to find worms to feed the chickens and cheaper than buying worms when Monkey and I go fishing. Gotta love that girl!
I worked Monkeys chosen worm onto his hook, and asked if he wanted to cast it out or if he wanted me too. This is a valid question as he is still working on his casting technique and this was the first time out for the season. He confidently state “I can do it” yanked the pole out of my hand and walked to the water.
When its safe to do so, I like letting people work on there own at learning and perfecting of a skill. So I stepped back and let Monkey do his thing trying to cast the worm out into the lake. At first I expected him to just cast it out half way across the lake using perfect form... he is part Yooper ya know.
As I readied my pole, I watched the young Nimrod out the corner of my eye and he ended up getting my full attention. He readied his rod, took a good stance, wound his body up and spun around in perfect discus form. The worm, hook and bobber ended up on the shore about 20 feet away from us. Not to be deterred he reeled in his line and readied for another attempt.
He again readied his pole, took a good stance, wound his body up and spun around in perfect discus form. This time went a wee bit different than the first. I was looking out into the lake expecting him to place it perfectly along the break where the fish were hanging out on this rather cool windy spring evening. While starring intently at the setting sun, I felt a tap on the back of my shirt. I swatted at it never taking my eyes off suns blinding effects on the lake.
After a few seconds of not seeing the worm, hook and bobber land in the lake, I turned to Monkey and wondered what had happen. His approach and spin seemed to be prefect the second time around. When my eye caught him I realized something was amiss. He had the looked of terror in his eyes.
“Did you hook yourself?” I asked,
“No daddy... I got you!!!”
Instantly, after a few seconds to think what happened, I realized the bump on my back was the chicken worm and hook smacking me after another mis-cast by Monkey.
“Dude.. don't move” I told him.
Turning with his rod while reeling in for another attempt he replies “What?”
“STOP!!!” I squealed, hoping he would comply instantly.
“Daddy, what do you want?” he asked, still turning and reeling.
“Monkey... just stop everything NOW, before you hook Dad instead of a fish.”
“Oh.”
Thinking I finally got his attention I start to carefully move to take the hook out of my shirt. Not one to do thing behind anyone's back, including my own, I quickly realized I was not going to be able to remove the hook while working blindly behind my back.
As I started to take my shirt off, Monkey stated “Dad you can't do that... no one wants to see it.”
“What?” I responded.
“Daddy leave your shirt on, no one wants your shirt off.”
“Its OK, buddy, I have to take it off to get your hook our of my back, or else you won't be able to fish anymore,” I answered, in an attempt to explain the severity of the situation. It didn't seem to help but he put his rod down and walked off to find something to play with near the water.
After I removed the monstrous hook I breathed a sigh of relief. A hair closer and that size 16 hook could have pierced my kidney. But Ole Nimrod is a machine.
We continued fishing until just before dark. Monkey got back in the groove from last year and was making some nice casts. Just before we left I told Monkey the fish must not be hungry tonight.
He replied “No dad, the fish must be sleeping already.”
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Oncorhynchus mykiss- the Sequel
During the week following the previous incident I pondered the situation over and over. The three times it came to mind, I still was not able to find an alternative explanation. I hadn't seen or heard from Murph the entire day, so I cautiously ruled him out.
A few days later I made another excursion to the creek. Lessons had been learned from the previous trip and since the creek was empty when I arrived, I started casting like crazy at the dam. I was using the same set up as before, the fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs.
I found the fast and furious approach at the dam interesting. The water was flowing so fast at the base of the dam, by the time I had the bail on my reel closed, the hook and bait were already flying by me in the water. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to notice a fishing hitting the hook, let alone set the hook if it all occurred before I could close the bail. Nonetheless I kept the pace up, hoping I would learn by fire.
In the middle of the fast and furious session I made a cast somewhat across the current of the creek, just to try something different. As I released the line on the cast the pole felt like it was cast something much heavier than just a simple fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs. I wondered what had happened. I started to wonder if I had hooked into a small steelie and never noticed and had cast it back out into the water.
As I retrieved the line I watched the rod tip for an indication the monster steelie had taken the ruse of my fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs as something it wanted to eat. After reeling approximately half the line back in, I noticed the rod tip wasn't where the rod tip was supposed to be. In fact the upper half of my rod was completely missing in action. I wondered where it could have gone, without me noticing. Odd. Again something must be afoot.
Once I had reeled in nearly all the line, part of the question was answered. The top half of my rod was hanging out with my fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs. Why I am not sure, but it proved again something was afoot... but just what it was remained a mystery. They had spent most of the week hooked together in the back of the sled, so maybe the upper half of the rod missed the fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs. One thing for certain, I very rarely cast half my rod into the water. Only half dozen, or so, times a season.
After reassembling my rod and doing the fast and furious for a bit longer, I decided to move on to something a little bit slower paced. Time was slowly ticking off the clock of when I needed to pickup Monkey from the institute of higher education, and it was obvious no self respecting steelie was going to be found at the base of the dam, in the strongest current on the creek. I don't blame them, why fight to stay in place when you can lounge in a slow moving hole and chill out for a bit?
The weather on this day was very mild, warm and the sun was shining bright over head. Since steelies are known to have sharp eyes and spook at the slightest hint of danger, from in the water or above, I sneaked around the banks with the highly lacking skills I use to stalk deer.
I carefully approached the hole where the guy “caught” the steelie after I had thoroughly fished the area a week earlier. Looking toward the center of the creek I was surprised by a steelie that was chillin' in the shallow water right near the bank. Our eyes meet at nearly the same time, well actually my eyes met the fishes tail and it burned rubber to get out of dodge.
How had I failed to see the fish before it saw me? My not finely tuned stalking skills should have given me first sight of the fish, not vice versa. What the heck was going on?
I still tossed my fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs into the creek, thinking maybe his buddy was hungover after a long night at the bar or wasn't quite as astute as Mr. Steelie. It didn't work out. I fished for a while longer, never hooking into, or even seeing another steelie.
As I worked my way back out to the sled, I come across another guy fishing on the opposite side of the bank where I had spooked Mr. Steelie. He seemed to be concentrating on something in the water. I offered the obligatory wave and moved on. I checked the area around where Mr. Steelie had been hanging out and noticed a second set of footprints, aside from mine. The print looked familiar. I made a mental note of the print and went on my way.
After returning to Nimrod Ranch, I noticed boot prints in the dirt of the drive. I checked them against the mental picture I had taken at the creek. Sure enough they matched and no they weren't mine. Being the creek is only about a mile from Nimrod Ranch, I bet Murph got off his lazy behind and walked over there to try and cover his tracks. The finger prints from the upper half of my fishing rod are still being analyzed but I don't think there is any secret of what the results will be.
The spring run of Oncorhynchus mykiss is about to peak and you can bet Nimrod will keep at 'er. One of these years I may just luck into one and be able to share a picture.
A few days later I made another excursion to the creek. Lessons had been learned from the previous trip and since the creek was empty when I arrived, I started casting like crazy at the dam. I was using the same set up as before, the fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs.
I found the fast and furious approach at the dam interesting. The water was flowing so fast at the base of the dam, by the time I had the bail on my reel closed, the hook and bait were already flying by me in the water. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to notice a fishing hitting the hook, let alone set the hook if it all occurred before I could close the bail. Nonetheless I kept the pace up, hoping I would learn by fire.
In the middle of the fast and furious session I made a cast somewhat across the current of the creek, just to try something different. As I released the line on the cast the pole felt like it was cast something much heavier than just a simple fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs. I wondered what had happened. I started to wonder if I had hooked into a small steelie and never noticed and had cast it back out into the water.
As I retrieved the line I watched the rod tip for an indication the monster steelie had taken the ruse of my fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs as something it wanted to eat. After reeling approximately half the line back in, I noticed the rod tip wasn't where the rod tip was supposed to be. In fact the upper half of my rod was completely missing in action. I wondered where it could have gone, without me noticing. Odd. Again something must be afoot.
Once I had reeled in nearly all the line, part of the question was answered. The top half of my rod was hanging out with my fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs. Why I am not sure, but it proved again something was afoot... but just what it was remained a mystery. They had spent most of the week hooked together in the back of the sled, so maybe the upper half of the rod missed the fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs. One thing for certain, I very rarely cast half my rod into the water. Only half dozen, or so, times a season.
After reassembling my rod and doing the fast and furious for a bit longer, I decided to move on to something a little bit slower paced. Time was slowly ticking off the clock of when I needed to pickup Monkey from the institute of higher education, and it was obvious no self respecting steelie was going to be found at the base of the dam, in the strongest current on the creek. I don't blame them, why fight to stay in place when you can lounge in a slow moving hole and chill out for a bit?
The weather on this day was very mild, warm and the sun was shining bright over head. Since steelies are known to have sharp eyes and spook at the slightest hint of danger, from in the water or above, I sneaked around the banks with the highly lacking skills I use to stalk deer.
I carefully approached the hole where the guy “caught” the steelie after I had thoroughly fished the area a week earlier. Looking toward the center of the creek I was surprised by a steelie that was chillin' in the shallow water right near the bank. Our eyes meet at nearly the same time, well actually my eyes met the fishes tail and it burned rubber to get out of dodge.
How had I failed to see the fish before it saw me? My not finely tuned stalking skills should have given me first sight of the fish, not vice versa. What the heck was going on?
I still tossed my fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a bag of eggs into the creek, thinking maybe his buddy was hungover after a long night at the bar or wasn't quite as astute as Mr. Steelie. It didn't work out. I fished for a while longer, never hooking into, or even seeing another steelie.
As I worked my way back out to the sled, I come across another guy fishing on the opposite side of the bank where I had spooked Mr. Steelie. He seemed to be concentrating on something in the water. I offered the obligatory wave and moved on. I checked the area around where Mr. Steelie had been hanging out and noticed a second set of footprints, aside from mine. The print looked familiar. I made a mental note of the print and went on my way.
After returning to Nimrod Ranch, I noticed boot prints in the dirt of the drive. I checked them against the mental picture I had taken at the creek. Sure enough they matched and no they weren't mine. Being the creek is only about a mile from Nimrod Ranch, I bet Murph got off his lazy behind and walked over there to try and cover his tracks. The finger prints from the upper half of my fishing rod are still being analyzed but I don't think there is any secret of what the results will be.
The spring run of Oncorhynchus mykiss is about to peak and you can bet Nimrod will keep at 'er. One of these years I may just luck into one and be able to share a picture.
Oncorhynchus mykiss
Ahhh... nothing like the smell of fish as Winter snows melt and Spring rains come. The mix offers an interesting sort of fishy lake or river smell. I love it and just goes to show spring is for fishing and turkey hunting, but that's a story for later.
With the melting snow and spring rain, the famous Oncorhynchus mykiss returns from Lake Michigan to their original hatching ground to spawn... ya know make little Oncorhynchus mykiss's.
Since a large majority of the fish are hatched at hatcheries, I often wonder how they get back to the rearing ponds when they aren't connected to any rivers or such that meet with Lake Michigan. Maybe the Oncorhynchus mykiss are smart enough to know what river the DNRE dumps them into out of the truck? Only the Oncorhynchus mykiss really know.
Either way Oncorhynchus mykiss are not only a lot of fun to catch or at least trying to catch them, but offer some of the best table fare you will find at the end of your line.
Huh? Whats a Oncorhynchus mykiss? Really? Don't you have google, too? That's where I found the scientific name for the steelhead.
After dropping Monkey off at his institute of higher education, I talked Yoop into letting me stop at the local bait and ammo shop. I ran in grab some eggs and ran out. Munda didn't even miss me. Of course she was out cold in a midday nap, but still didn't miss me.
We slid home in the sled and I dropped of Yoop and Munda to continue the midday nap and off I went to the local steelhead honey hole. Not exactly a honey hole, but a creek that runs off the main river in the area.. and a place the steelies are known to come up during Spring.
There were a group of guys right at the bottom of the damn. They were casting over and over and over again. My arms were getting tired watching them for 15 seconds. It looked like a lot of work and was already a bit crowded so I moved to a place further downstream. I would have this spot all to myself and would not require as much casting.
I loaded up my fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a mesh knit bag of eggs and sent it on its way to the creek. I kept a watchful eye on it as it float with the current, bobbing in and out of view. I waited eagerly for the fish I knew were nearby to swim out and snatch the offering but to no avail. Odd. Seems like any fish in the creek would come swimming to a bait that resembled the eggs laid by the female of their species tied in a small mesh bag.
The bait floated its way into a nearby bush in the water and got hung up on one of the branches
Realizing this wasn't the way things were supposed to go I got suspicious instantly. Something was afoot. I wasn't sure exactly what it was but I knew something was.
I gave my pole a quick jerk and the mystery got more confusing. At the point in the jerk where all my strength was put on the line the hook didn't come free. The twig didn't snap. The hook didn't straighten. For what was at the time an unknown reason the line snapped at the eyelet of the hook. After I reeled in the line, I carefully examined the broken end to find the knot I carefully tied had come undone. Weird. In all my too many years of tying knots in fishing line this had only happened a few dozen times a year. So this occurrence was certainly a rarity and again I could tell something wasn't right.
I tied another hook on the line and placed a bag of eggs on the new hook and again tossed it into the current. This time I was careful to keep the hook away from the shore bushes, at least until I could figure out what had happened before.
After awhile of trying different parts of the current I decided to move a little further downstream. Maybe the Oncorhynchus mykiss hadn't made it all the way up to the dam yet. While I worked a spot about 75 yards downstream I saw another guy walk up to where I was previously at. I tried to tell him there weren't any fish there but he couldn't hear me.
As time wound down on my excursion, and the need to pick up Monkey on time out weighing the desire to catch a fine Oncorhynchus mykiss, I wrapped everything up. I reeled in my line and picked up my net. As I set off for the sled the guy who was fishing where there wasn't any fish began to yell.
At first I thought he had fallen into the creek or had snagged himself with his hook. I quick stepped to him and as I got closer he said he needed a net. Odd I thought for someone who had fallen into the creek or snagged himself with a hook. Then I realized he must have dropped something in the water.
As I reached the man in distress he said its right there, pointing to the water. I looked down expecting to see a cell phone or wallet at the bottom. Instead I saw a nice sized male Oncorhynchus mykiss. Instinctively I scooped the net into the water and got the fish. I carried it to where the man was standing and set it into the grass.
“He asked is that big enough?”
Since the only need to be 10 inches to keep, and this one was about 20 inches or more. I replied “Yes.”
“Ok, I have only been here 10 minutes and this is more than enough for me.”
I forced a smile and told him congrats, I have to go.
As I finished my walk to the sled I pondered how he caught a fish in a spot I knew there were none. My mind wandered but I knew one thing for sure. That fish could not have been there 10 minutes before hand or else he would have snatched up my offering way before that of this other guy.
I think Murph had put him up to hooking a Oncorhynchus mykiss to his bait before he put it in the water; its the only conceivable way he would have “caught” anything out of that hole
I met the luck fisherman in the parking area. I offered him more false congratulations for the second time, started the sled and left to get Monkey.
With the melting snow and spring rain, the famous Oncorhynchus mykiss returns from Lake Michigan to their original hatching ground to spawn... ya know make little Oncorhynchus mykiss's.
Since a large majority of the fish are hatched at hatcheries, I often wonder how they get back to the rearing ponds when they aren't connected to any rivers or such that meet with Lake Michigan. Maybe the Oncorhynchus mykiss are smart enough to know what river the DNRE dumps them into out of the truck? Only the Oncorhynchus mykiss really know.
Either way Oncorhynchus mykiss are not only a lot of fun to catch or at least trying to catch them, but offer some of the best table fare you will find at the end of your line.
Huh? Whats a Oncorhynchus mykiss? Really? Don't you have google, too? That's where I found the scientific name for the steelhead.
After dropping Monkey off at his institute of higher education, I talked Yoop into letting me stop at the local bait and ammo shop. I ran in grab some eggs and ran out. Munda didn't even miss me. Of course she was out cold in a midday nap, but still didn't miss me.
We slid home in the sled and I dropped of Yoop and Munda to continue the midday nap and off I went to the local steelhead honey hole. Not exactly a honey hole, but a creek that runs off the main river in the area.. and a place the steelies are known to come up during Spring.
There were a group of guys right at the bottom of the damn. They were casting over and over and over again. My arms were getting tired watching them for 15 seconds. It looked like a lot of work and was already a bit crowded so I moved to a place further downstream. I would have this spot all to myself and would not require as much casting.
I loaded up my fancy dancy special steelhead single hook with a mesh knit bag of eggs and sent it on its way to the creek. I kept a watchful eye on it as it float with the current, bobbing in and out of view. I waited eagerly for the fish I knew were nearby to swim out and snatch the offering but to no avail. Odd. Seems like any fish in the creek would come swimming to a bait that resembled the eggs laid by the female of their species tied in a small mesh bag.
The bait floated its way into a nearby bush in the water and got hung up on one of the branches
Realizing this wasn't the way things were supposed to go I got suspicious instantly. Something was afoot. I wasn't sure exactly what it was but I knew something was.
I gave my pole a quick jerk and the mystery got more confusing. At the point in the jerk where all my strength was put on the line the hook didn't come free. The twig didn't snap. The hook didn't straighten. For what was at the time an unknown reason the line snapped at the eyelet of the hook. After I reeled in the line, I carefully examined the broken end to find the knot I carefully tied had come undone. Weird. In all my too many years of tying knots in fishing line this had only happened a few dozen times a year. So this occurrence was certainly a rarity and again I could tell something wasn't right.
I tied another hook on the line and placed a bag of eggs on the new hook and again tossed it into the current. This time I was careful to keep the hook away from the shore bushes, at least until I could figure out what had happened before.
After awhile of trying different parts of the current I decided to move a little further downstream. Maybe the Oncorhynchus mykiss hadn't made it all the way up to the dam yet. While I worked a spot about 75 yards downstream I saw another guy walk up to where I was previously at. I tried to tell him there weren't any fish there but he couldn't hear me.
As time wound down on my excursion, and the need to pick up Monkey on time out weighing the desire to catch a fine Oncorhynchus mykiss, I wrapped everything up. I reeled in my line and picked up my net. As I set off for the sled the guy who was fishing where there wasn't any fish began to yell.
At first I thought he had fallen into the creek or had snagged himself with his hook. I quick stepped to him and as I got closer he said he needed a net. Odd I thought for someone who had fallen into the creek or snagged himself with a hook. Then I realized he must have dropped something in the water.
As I reached the man in distress he said its right there, pointing to the water. I looked down expecting to see a cell phone or wallet at the bottom. Instead I saw a nice sized male Oncorhynchus mykiss. Instinctively I scooped the net into the water and got the fish. I carried it to where the man was standing and set it into the grass.
“He asked is that big enough?”
Since the only need to be 10 inches to keep, and this one was about 20 inches or more. I replied “Yes.”
“Ok, I have only been here 10 minutes and this is more than enough for me.”
I forced a smile and told him congrats, I have to go.
As I finished my walk to the sled I pondered how he caught a fish in a spot I knew there were none. My mind wandered but I knew one thing for sure. That fish could not have been there 10 minutes before hand or else he would have snatched up my offering way before that of this other guy.
I think Murph had put him up to hooking a Oncorhynchus mykiss to his bait before he put it in the water; its the only conceivable way he would have “caught” anything out of that hole
I met the luck fisherman in the parking area. I offered him more false congratulations for the second time, started the sled and left to get Monkey.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Mid Winter Blahs
Ahhh. Hope y'all didn't think Ole Nimrod fell of the face of the earth. I am sure you have been thinking of me. I've had all the readers on my mind too.. wondering why in the heck they come back and read my ramblings. But hey I won't complain about a symbiotic relationship. You get to feel better about yourself and I get to ramble and think people care... its win-win!
Anywho, the past month has been a rough one around the Nimrod house. Munda was sick with a double ear infection (think that girl prolly would have had a quadruple one if she had 4 ears). Yoop and Monkey has had a few bouts with sickness too. Ole Nimrod fought off the dreaded coughing monster and saved my voice from destruction. Came on nearly the exact same time as last year but I went and the doc gave me everything she had and knocked it out of the park.
Besides whining about being sick not much else has been happening.
Grey Beard and I took Monkey on his first ice fishing trip. Kid did well. Better than his dad did at his age. We all caught a few fish but had a bunch of fun. Good thing Murph is scared of frozen water. He stayed at baseops while the men went out on the hard water. I think I need to start ice fishing more.. sure keeps Murph outta by business. Too bad the season is so short.
Besides that I have spent one afternoon in the woods or on the hard water. Gotta love life when your sick and busy. That afternoon was eventful though. I have been trying to get a picture of some turkeys in the snow but failed. Got some over exposed pictures of some tracks but the maker of the track remained elusive. A beautiful female Pileated woodpecker gave me a show, all with in camera range for a change. I have been trying to get some shots of one for well over a year... patience does pay off, on occasion.
While I was out, trudging through knee deep snow with a nice ice layer on top, watching the Pileated, trying to see turkeys, Yoop went to get Monkey from his institute of higher education. Traveling the same road she does everyday. This time however Murph decided to play a trick on her instead of me.
Not being one to agree with picking on girls, I found it some what funny. Yoop had her own joy in the situation given no damage was done to the sled and no one was injured. Murph was hiding on the side of the road, near where a rafter of thunder chickens were waiting to cross the road. As Yoop approached Murph must have goosed the bird and it took flight.
Yoop described what followed as happening in slow motion. She said she say the thunder chicken approaching the shoulder of the road. As it neared the pavement, something caused the beast to take flight in a perfect trajectory for the sleds grill.
As ya know Yoop is a country girl from way back. She has driven a few miles along country roads in her short time on Gods wonderful earth. Instead of swerving like some crazy city girl, she calmly depressed the brake pedal to change the bearing from the grill to a bearing where the beast would just skim the top of the windshield and slide along the roof. Now that's talent my friends. Not only did she prevent the sled from sustaining any damage, she did so in style. That's my girl!
I have not heard the end of how I labored through a mile walk in knee deep snow with a layer of ice and not seeing a turkey to how she turned missing roadkill into an event with much Olympic potential. Blah blah blah.. but she didn't get to see the pecker up close.
Winter is almost over around us. Sun is starting to show itself more and more. Snow is slowly but surely melting into puddles stuck on the frozen ground. With approaching spring Yoop and Monkey have started their annual pre-spring flower seed planting. But this year is different. In addition to planting the seeds I let the crazies (Yoop and Monkey if your not following me) talk me into making another spring like purchase.
Yoop is well aware of my inability to build anything that will stand long than a few weeks. I can draw things out, I understand how it will work once together but give me the wood, nails, screws, etc and I will turn a perfect drawing into an object Picasso would be proud of. So when the crazies approached me about buying the other sign of spring I thought it was a joke.
“You want me to build what for what??” I asked.
“It won't be that hard. Its just a box and some fencing around it” she replied.
Knowing better I said “Yeah I guess your right, sure we can.”
So we made a special journey into town and Monkey picked out a couple little feathered friends.
The crazies are looking forward to fresh supply of eggs. I am looking forward to building a coop for them like I am looking forward to prostate exams when I turn 40.
Monkey is not only looking forward to the eggs but he told me “Daddy when we get ready to cook them they won't be chirping anymore.”
“Buddy, your right.”
“They only thing the will be doing then is soaking up the BBQ sauce" he replied.
The apple sure doesn't fall fair from the tree.
Anywho, the past month has been a rough one around the Nimrod house. Munda was sick with a double ear infection (think that girl prolly would have had a quadruple one if she had 4 ears). Yoop and Monkey has had a few bouts with sickness too. Ole Nimrod fought off the dreaded coughing monster and saved my voice from destruction. Came on nearly the exact same time as last year but I went and the doc gave me everything she had and knocked it out of the park.
Besides whining about being sick not much else has been happening.
Grey Beard and I took Monkey on his first ice fishing trip. Kid did well. Better than his dad did at his age. We all caught a few fish but had a bunch of fun. Good thing Murph is scared of frozen water. He stayed at baseops while the men went out on the hard water. I think I need to start ice fishing more.. sure keeps Murph outta by business. Too bad the season is so short.
Besides that I have spent one afternoon in the woods or on the hard water. Gotta love life when your sick and busy. That afternoon was eventful though. I have been trying to get a picture of some turkeys in the snow but failed. Got some over exposed pictures of some tracks but the maker of the track remained elusive. A beautiful female Pileated woodpecker gave me a show, all with in camera range for a change. I have been trying to get some shots of one for well over a year... patience does pay off, on occasion.
While I was out, trudging through knee deep snow with a nice ice layer on top, watching the Pileated, trying to see turkeys, Yoop went to get Monkey from his institute of higher education. Traveling the same road she does everyday. This time however Murph decided to play a trick on her instead of me.
Not being one to agree with picking on girls, I found it some what funny. Yoop had her own joy in the situation given no damage was done to the sled and no one was injured. Murph was hiding on the side of the road, near where a rafter of thunder chickens were waiting to cross the road. As Yoop approached Murph must have goosed the bird and it took flight.
Yoop described what followed as happening in slow motion. She said she say the thunder chicken approaching the shoulder of the road. As it neared the pavement, something caused the beast to take flight in a perfect trajectory for the sleds grill.
As ya know Yoop is a country girl from way back. She has driven a few miles along country roads in her short time on Gods wonderful earth. Instead of swerving like some crazy city girl, she calmly depressed the brake pedal to change the bearing from the grill to a bearing where the beast would just skim the top of the windshield and slide along the roof. Now that's talent my friends. Not only did she prevent the sled from sustaining any damage, she did so in style. That's my girl!
I have not heard the end of how I labored through a mile walk in knee deep snow with a layer of ice and not seeing a turkey to how she turned missing roadkill into an event with much Olympic potential. Blah blah blah.. but she didn't get to see the pecker up close.
Winter is almost over around us. Sun is starting to show itself more and more. Snow is slowly but surely melting into puddles stuck on the frozen ground. With approaching spring Yoop and Monkey have started their annual pre-spring flower seed planting. But this year is different. In addition to planting the seeds I let the crazies (Yoop and Monkey if your not following me) talk me into making another spring like purchase.
Yoop is well aware of my inability to build anything that will stand long than a few weeks. I can draw things out, I understand how it will work once together but give me the wood, nails, screws, etc and I will turn a perfect drawing into an object Picasso would be proud of. So when the crazies approached me about buying the other sign of spring I thought it was a joke.
“You want me to build what for what??” I asked.
“It won't be that hard. Its just a box and some fencing around it” she replied.
Knowing better I said “Yeah I guess your right, sure we can.”
So we made a special journey into town and Monkey picked out a couple little feathered friends.
The crazies are looking forward to fresh supply of eggs. I am looking forward to building a coop for them like I am looking forward to prostate exams when I turn 40.
Monkey is not only looking forward to the eggs but he told me “Daddy when we get ready to cook them they won't be chirping anymore.”
“Buddy, your right.”
“They only thing the will be doing then is soaking up the BBQ sauce" he replied.
The apple sure doesn't fall fair from the tree.
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