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I'm nearing my station. I'll be getting off, but the lake train will keep right on going. And it's going strong, not fast, but strong. Everything rolling along the way it has forever.
The fish were up and hungry, the herons were restless and talked to each other in deep reedy squonks, the chickadees and stellar's jays were competing for attention along the shoreline, the ducks shot back and forth across the lake like arrows, and two bighorn rams, somewhere up on the ridge, ticked off the time with the heavy hollow tocks of their colliding horns.
I was a part of it, a tiny little part of it, one more time. I felt the pull of the trout again in my wrists and arms. And I felt the pull of the lake again somewhere deep inside me. And I was glad for another ride.