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Thursday, July 25, 2013

Rought Time In Secret Fishing Spot

Rough Time in the Secret Fishing Spot

There is this secret fishing spot that we visit at least once a year. It is one of those places we feel is a remnant of what it was once like in the land of plenty, where fish were genuinely abundant, say similar to isolated lakes and rivers of Canada. It is a place primeval, primordial in a way, a place where time has stood still, a place where man seldom treads.  That is why it is kept a secret.

It was passed on to us by an old man who in his youth could go there, fight his way through the thickets, tolerate the onslaught of blood-lusting mosquitoes and deer flies while dragging his boat over land and bog. It is a place of leaches, huge dragon flies, deep cool holes, fallen trees and floating water weeds, but it is also the home of fish. These fish live there in all sizes but most importantly they come very large. Forty inch, shark-toothed Muskies lay like logs floating listlessly, crocodile like, eyes intent on young ducks. Big dark Bass violently grasp the rubber frogs and the Northerns slide through the water like torpedoes cast from a U-boat, slashing the thrown baits.

It is good to have a few of these spots so anglers can know what the real baseline is, to know natural conditions in the environment can do this. That is not to say fish cannot be removed from such a spot but once a heavy harvest is on, like so many places, the wildness will dissipate and the knowledge of the baseline will be lost. A new baseline will be set, one which has less fish, one that will not represent how it once was.

In the years we have traveled there, we have never harvested a fish, probably knowing we could, but still desperately wanting to keep it like it is so that we, or maybe a new inductee, might have the experience once again.



There are few of these legacy spots left because invariably one person will, in a moment of weakness or in a beer-induced moment of glee, tell another and the chain of knowledge trickles through the attentive anglers, some who may be more interested in their freezers. In no time, damage is done by those who do not respect the situation, fish numbers drop and the trampling of human feet begins.

It was that time of the year, maybe a touch late as the hot weather was sure to have made the weeds grow and the bugs hatch. There had been rains, and now it was even hotter. There never is a magic formula but we were prepared and of strong heart, maybe even foolishly, too eager.

On our arrival the situation seemed altered but still no signs of human usage, after all this is not a place where most folks would look and it is still not for the timid. An aging hobbler like me is a touch at risk simply because another crude stumble might find me skewered by a beaver-sharpened stick or embarrassingly covered with feted goose droppings.

We pushed and pulled the canoe through the fallen and piled underbrush only to find out that our friend the beaver had not done its handy work and a good portion of the retaining dam, that in part made the spot, had fallen into disrepair. It appeared to me the beaver were gone. Had they been tapped out?

We slid our way into the waiting water worried things had changed in our secret spot. The water level was clearly down. Not totally deterred, we started the usual game and in relatively short order managed to find the finned monsters hiding under an overly thick mat of half decomposed algae. Big pounding hits from Black Bass and Northerns rocked the boat but none were even close to being landed. Still we were content to know they were still there hungry, but not about to be easily caught in their shrunken lairs. The small changes of weather and missing resident beavers had definitely disrupted our wilderness outing.

About the time the bewitching hour of fish activity rolled around, the storms of summer found us trapped. The rains fell, and fell hard. In doing so, nature used her fat drops to alert every hell-bent, flying vermin of the swamp to our presence in their wild land. The swindling, dart-mouthed suckers honed in with a vengeance. We were not welcomed. We were now their target fish and they were fishing with weapons. The repellent washed off as fast as we could put it on. My only hope was the bulk of the biting scoundrels would concentrate on my partner who, in his great wisdom thought wearing shorts was a good idea. The lightening flashed as we paddled, plastic bag covered,  toward higher ground and the car a mile away.

In a wet moment of reflection, we felt all was still intact and the secret still kept. The only news to be disseminated would be to invite a nice beaver couple back and maybe plead to the heavens to treat us better in our age.


Sunday, July 21, 2013

Bugs of All Sorts

Many bugs go unnoticed,  with the exception of the ones that bite, like mosquitoes, the nasty ticks and an assortment of irritating gnats and some stingers like Bald-face Hornets. Oh sure, there are some pests of the food we eat that gets attention and that might include the rotund stinking grubs that like to eat my potato tubers, fat repugnant potato bugs, maybe corn ear worms, ash borers, Boll Weevils--ya, ya, there are lots of bugs to hate. They didn't really plan it that way. Reckon somebody did , though.

As a result of the few that may create discomfort like bot flies that lay their eggs under the skin so they can slowly eat us (not here thank God because the really suck big time--check photos http://images.search.yahoo.com/search/images?_adv_prop=image&fr=vmn&va=bot+fly) and the vegetable eaters, the others often get unnoticed and many vilified for doing nothing of any concern to us and our self-important, egotistical, arrogant personal existence.

So I just ran into a couple of beauties, at least I saw them as such, and thought it might be of interest to share them. The first is the lowly aphid, and I will admit killing some of these while working for Libby's  and yes, we used pane launched Parathion but it was before Silent Spring. The little bastards were damaging peas and Lima beans so that were though of as having-to-go. Bombed the piss out of them and everything else including our spotters---which wasn't me.

These aphids, however, were firmly attached to a lovely composite of the yellow nature. There on a leaf was a extended family of red aphids all with their feeding mouths firmly embedded in the stem just sucking up the juices of life. The plant didn't seem to mind as it was healthy and interestingly there was also present a nice population of ants who it seem were milking the aphids of honey drops. It was a small dairy operation so to speak.


We watched as the community pulsated and moved through the warm afternoon. Aphids are a simple lot so it was hard to tell if anybody was really having any fun but some were very fat and probably getting in position to attract a mate which I am sure meant some carnal excitement. I seem to remember aphids can reproduce with out sex so what is the purpose of eating.? Population growth? Do they work for the ants to make fiat currency?

My second bug of the day was the Polyphemus moth I ran into in Door County hanging on the window of the men's bathroom. I don't think it really liked bathrooms. It was just a coincidence because earlier I did see another monster fly by right over the beach looking very much like a bat.This beauty was fresh out of the cocoon and doing a little vibration move to dry off and get the wings up to snuff. It turns out moths don't eat anything so at this point in it's life it was all about getting it on with another moth of the other sex---unless it is a gay moth, which I suppose is possible.


I always though, rather mistakenly, that the Hornworm turned into one of these beauties but not so. They make what I call, Hawk moths, big but more jet like. Turns out these monsters like mostly trees and appear to only get aroused in the presence of Oak trees. I don't know what that is about. I like a good oak tree myself but really. To me a nice grassy field has more appeal.

I left all of these bugs alone and they left me alone. A nice treat if you will.

Permaculture---Revolution Watch

Like many folks in this changing world I have been exploring some agriculture possibilities, in a very small way of course, in that I do not have a farm but only a big back yard right in the middle of a small community.

 One of the possibilities I have watched is Permaculture, or I suppose it might be called Holistic farming even though there might be a difference. There have been great claims by the herbal-organic types that Permaculture is the way to go in that it is good for the land (being sustainable and all) and produces tons of organic foods. Well, that is very cool.

What they do is make sure that the land is used in such as a way as not to be destroyed for future generations and that exotic chemicals are not poured into the soil. The seem to shun pesticides and do things like rotate chickens through the pastures to keep bugs at a minimum. They also grow a wide variety of crops always looking to help the soil by adding back those things depleted, say nitrogen.


Many of us have seen great films of this and they are always very cozy, enticing and in truth, they work. Wonderful food is produced and one farm family and a few helpers (mostly they seem like volunteers and trainees) can provide for a substantial group of individuals producing all sorts of products from meat, to dairy products, berries, vegetables, fruits, eggs, really just about everything except maybe shrimp and shark. Possibly bottom feeding catfish or Talipia but still a rounded, but limited, meal.

In the winter time they might have a few stored items form market but generally the buying public would have to store up for that, lay away the summer goods.

Some folks have stated that the world of 7 billion could be easily feed in the manner and at the same time not trash the entire planet as we are doing now with all the chemicals and GMO crap.

Today while picking our organic beans, I gave a bit of a thought to these concepts some of which we practice. I knew as a kid working in canning factories, thousands of pounds of beans were processed everyday by using all those monster, diesel powered pickers  and sophisticated canning facilities, and that is not counting the fuel and chemicals used to grow the beans. The production levels managed by really a very few people, was profound.

It took me twenty minutes today to get 5 bags of frozen beans (and they were real good beans) but the idea of humans getting enough beans to feed 7 billion using these largely hand operated methods was unimaginable. It would take 3.5 billion people to do it. I was left seriously wondering about this Permaculture thing. Feed all the people of the world with organic food? Something just doesn't add up on that one.

We now have maybe 6 people raising thousand of acres of wheat in Kansas. How would we do that with Permaculture? Corn by the ton from one family and their quiver of machines and chemicals. Where would all those workers live in Kansas?---- in soddies?