I Rest My Case

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Hook Up!

Look At 'im Run!!

Disclaimer: No muskrat was harmed during the making of these photos. Depicted muskrat swam across line and entangled self on strike indicator of own free will. While hook was affixed to line, hook did not penetrate any portion of depicted muskrat. At no time did depicted muskrat leave water. A muskrat is too precious to be caught only once; practice catch and release. Professional muskrat on closed course. Do not attempt. Take only as directed; do not exceed recommended dosage. While rare, some side effects may occur. They include but are not limited to: spitting when you talk; talking when you spit; the belief that your name is Wanda, or, if your name is Wanda, that it's Earl; spontaneous wedgies; the desire to cook and eat yourself; oral flatulence; spontaneous screaming; an irrational fear of Viking hats; an erection lasting more than four hours, unless you're a woman, in which case it will last for multiple times; thoughts of thoughts; spontaneous combustion; hair loss; skin loss; limb loss; head loss; a horrible, painful death; the end of life as we know it.

Monday Fishing Report: A Modest Proposal

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Once more into the breech.

My secret weapon this time was a handful of Micro Leeches tied up the other night. If they work for Brian Chan in BC I thought they might do the trick here.

But the lake was dead. No discernible fish activity at all. But, implacable as ancient stone, I stuck with the leeches.

The only thing moving in the water were mushrats, many, many mushrats. My proposal is this: an open season on mushrats on the fly. I bet I could hook a lot with a heavy streamer and a well-placed cast.

I suppose they'd bite while you were trying to remove the hook, so catch and release would be tricky. Better to have a liberal limit, say five or ten. Then you could bless them with a priest before hauling them into the canoe.

That would be great sport while waiting for the trout to wake up. And I could make some nice fly wallets out of the pelts, something to hold my Micro Leeches in.

Friday Fishing Report: Sandhills

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I made it to the lake this morning. It's always good to see things in a new light.

It was cool and breezy when I got there, and a high overcast blew in. But it warmed up steadily until by the time I had to leave I was in shirtsleeves. Nice.

But, no fish. Very slow. I tried a new trick: a tandem rig. I used a beadhead on 4X and dropped a smaller nymph off of it on 5X. I tried chironimids, soft hackles, generic nymphs, and a caddis pupa when I saw a few hatching around Noon. I tried with an indicator and without, at various depths. I tried various retrieves including wind-drifting and the very zen-like retrieve of no retrieve. I even stripped a couple of streamers and trolled with a small beadhead Wooly Bugger. And as if that wasn't enough, I fished a "bee fly" for awhile, or a fly that resembled a honeybee, after seeing many of them on the water.

Good practice.

A troller stopped by in his big boat (do I look like someone who wants to chat?) and confirmed that the fish were off the bite. He'd tried the rigs that had gotten him his limit the last few times out and hadn't caught a thing.

The good news, though--or the Cosmic Finger--was that he was seeing bigger fish on his sonar than in years past. Through all that the birds stole the show. Canadian Geese couples were perching on these cliffs and flying off and coming back, and squabbling and fighting, all at the top of their voices.

And the Red-necked Grebes are back with what the bird book describes as their "drawn out braying calls." Really loud, but really fun. This picture doesn't do them justice; I blew it up and the resolution suffered. Wish I had a telephoto.

But the stars of the show were the Sandhill Cranes. This was my first sighting of them this Spring, and it's always an event.

First you hear their unmistakable creaking call way up high somewhere and seeming to come from everywhere at once. Then you begin to see the long trailing lines of them across the sky. First a few...

Then more and more.

If you're lucky, you'll see the lines collide and merge, and the birds begin to spiral in great dark swirls.

And the sky is filled with constellations--galaxies--of Sandhills.

So, no fish, but wonderful birds and great weather. I was content.

Spring Cranks It Up

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You're looking at 80 degrees in the valley according to our deck thermometer. In the shade.

Feels real, real good. I notice that the dogs are drowsing in the shade instead of the sun. Must be hot in their dark coats.

I've got the windows open and for the first time in months I can't detect any dog smell in the house.

So, perfect early season fishing weather, and the truck's down again. It has also been a busy week, which has meant coordinating transportation for multiple persons to multiple activities in different locations with one vehicle.

But tonight I plan to load up the van with canoe and equipment and in the morning I'll take the family to school. That means I'll have all morning and early afternoon for a trip to the lake.

Let's see if the trout are cranking it up.

More Soccer

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Things are looking good for Isaiah's soccer team. They won their second game something like 7 to 1. I lost exact count.
Isaiah did well again. Fun to see him taking to a new sport. And fun to gain a new appreciation of that sport.

Another Season Opens

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This time it's soccer season. Isaiah is playing soccer for the first time in his young athletic career. He did great, and so did his team.

This was actually a warm up game between the two town teams. The regular schedule opens Saturday against our archrivals in a town up the road.

It was chilly, but not cold, and a light rain fell through the whole game. That didn't slow them down, but there were a few slips and spectacular crashes. Isaiah took full length falls twice.

We found out that Isaiah is a deft passer, getting at least one assist with a great pass in front of the net.

Isaiah's team won, 6 to 3. He was happy about that. Seems some of his friends on the other team were trash talking all day.

I guess he gets the last laugh this time.

Tuesday Fishing Report: Transitions

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I launched the canoe this afternoon at the early opening trout lake. The maiden voyage of 2010. It was a beautiful day, and a day of transitions: windy to calm, warm to cold, bright to cloudy, day to dusk. And all around me the birds and the beavers and the muskrats were acting out the transition from winter to spring, from last season to a new season.
Earlier, I had transitioned my equipment from river and Steelhead to lake and trout, and then transitioned back into the routine of the canoe. I did pretty well, except I forgot the sandbag for the front of the canoe. Some may remember that due to the unfortunate accident involving a tree falling on the canoe, the bow seat, ideal for a single canoeist, has structural issues. So, to sit in the stern seat requires a weight in the bow to prevent it from rising into the air like the dragon prow of a viking ship.
Turns out, though, that the bow seat held me without any trouble. All I have to do is hitch myself over to the right a bit since the structural damage causes a slight sag to the left.
I also forgot the net; it's still hanging on its lanyard on the float tube. Turns out I didn't need that either. I really thought I'd catch some trout today, but I guess it takes a transition rather than a simple shift of gears.
It took me awhile to adjust my timing back to the four weight rod, and though I tried several flies and presentations--shallow, deep, trolling, slow retrieve, slower retrieve, really slow retrieve, fast retrieve, frustrated retrieve--I could tell I wasn't in tune yet with the lake or the trout.
I think they could tell, too. Good thing I have this lake and this "preseason" as a tune up--a transition--before my favorite lake opens on the 23rd.
So I leaned back and enjoyed--and tried to pay attention to--the transition. It's reassuring, actually, to realize that no season is a mere copy of the previous season. It's all new. You can bring your old bag of tricks, but you're going to get to learn some new tricks, too.
It's also reassuring to realize that you don't have to be that same guy you were last year. When you really live--and I'd argue that the fishing life, out there in the middle of the natural world's transitions, is a good way to really live--you'll simply never be the same again. So go ahead; make the transition.

Family Letter

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We're fine. Spring is here, but we still have some cold nights when the orchardists turn on the wind machines and the ridges get a fresh dusting of snow. When the sun does come out you can feel the warmth, at least when the wind dies down. Still, it's nippy outside. That's been the case when we sit and watch Lidia's softball games. That's Lidia's friend Lupe huddled up under the blanket.
Lidia's team hasn't won a game yet. Pitching is a weakness. Still, Lidia has been a faithful team member, though she wants to play more than she's getting to. She only had one at bat in a double header on Saturday. She was mad at her coach for that.
Isaiah is now thirteen and enjoying life. He decided to pass on baseball this year and run track and play soccer instead. Here he is trying to keep me from taking his picture as we drove to the game Saturday.
But I got one, of a sort.
Jeremiah is playing baseball. He also saved up allowances and bought a new bike. He's spending a lot of time on it.
That means trips into town to the dirt track in the park, often with Isaiah, and Jeremiah's friends, Juan and Brian. That's a lot of bikes to stack in the back of the van. The truck would easily hold the bikes, but not all those boys.
The dogs are fine, too. The boys are loving having them in the family. Jeremiah is now wanting Rocky to sleep with him in his room, something we haven't quite worked out yet. And the dogs often bring home such interesting stuff.
Here's what they like to do when they aren't terrorizing the neighborhood: stretch out on the dirt and sleep in the sun.
Hope you all had a Happy Easter. I'll write more soon.

Spring Hopes Eternal

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No, I didn't go back to the river yesterday. I decided to close the book on the river for now and get ready for some lake fishing.
One of our local trout lakes opened today, and since my work took me up in that vicinity I drove over to see what was happening. There were little RV towns in the two camping areas, people lined up along the banks, and boats waking up the lake. There was also a DNR officer making the rounds. The old license expired yesterday, the lake opened today--I bet he wrote a few tickets for expired licenses.
I drove way down to the west end of the lake where I plan to launch my canoe as soon as schedule permits. It looked good.
I fished here last Spring and had a great time. This end tends to be somewhat wind-sheltered, and boats seldom bother coming all the way down here. But there are trout in there.
So I stopped on the way home and got my new license. I'll put the 6 weight away and limber up the 4 weight, and take all the Steelhead fly boxes out of my vest and put the nymph and caddis and mayfly boxes back in, and tie up a nice, long, light leader.
Then I'll go sit out there in the sun and maybe start with a tiny nymph suspended under an indicator and just see what's what.
That sounds so good.