After two weeks of inactivity (in my Lyman) I finally returned to the River for some fishing. My cousin came for a visit and picked a perfect October weekend to enjoy the outdoors. Our only problem was to decide what to pursue, fish or game. The days ahead called for unusually nice weather so we put off the fishing. Friday morning we went on a casual turkey hunt to absorb the fall foliage, crisp clean air and a down right hot sun.
The scenery along the route to the woods varied amongst the trees. A few maples had orange and red crowns while many still held fast to vibrate green leaves. A good many oaks have turned over the season and now wear dusty brown or gold foliage. Cattails have given up their soft green color that swayed in the breeze all summer. The borders that surround French creek are now outlined by golden brown cattails with cigar heads. The meandering snake like outline of the creek is an impressive sight. It is one of my favorite places to explore and listen to nature.
My cousin has slowed down and he has trouble with long walks. I had him sit in a clear area of the woods with decent visibility, where the sun would bake his bones. I knew that a nap was inevitable and wondered if he would only see turkeys in his dreams. The woods proved to be barren of any current turkey activity. I saw some recently shed feathers and a large dusting spot. The soil there was fresh and looked soft like talcum powder. A few under belly feathers clung to the dirt while a soft breeze gave them rise to linger in the air. Turkeys had been there in the morning and perhaps they passed a sleeping, snoring creature under a tree. There may have been a missed opportunity for one being and longer days in the woods for another.
Saturday morning the River had a soft flow to the east driven by a west wind. We lowered the Lyman and had to each stretch to get a foot hold on the gunnels. The river is low… and the boat now rests in the water almost four feet below my dock. We went out to a nice looking weed bed, to cast for pike. My cousin was content to sit in the stern with a hot cup of coffee between his hands, listening to the River lap against the hull. I pulled in a pile of weeds and had some small perch follow my doctor spoon. As with the turkeys, the pike were elsewhere that morning.
Perch fishing was a bit better, with us each keeping active at rods end. The River only gave up a few decent perch, not enough for our breakfast, so they were turned loose. The wind put an end to our morning as it blew us along at a good clip. Our jigs were riding high near the surface with two split shot on each line, made of soft metal. Since lead is now banned for fishing weights, it is difficult to rig a line without excessive bulk. The new versions of split shot (weights) are much lighter. They are still being made in increments of ¼ ounce and mimic lead in design, while the actual sizes have doubled. I am sure someone will find a suitable replacement eventually, followed by hefty price.
In the afternoon I steamed some top neck clams which I ordered from a grocer in Watertown. These clams are of a size in between little necks and cherry stone, leaning towards the size of the latter. They were surprisingly sweet and tender for the size and my guests all but finished the 200 steamers. No one went away hungry and everyone purred with delight with each batch. The cost was only $3.49 a dozen, very reasonable compared to the smaller variety. My bride was able to freeze enough clam broth (for fish chowder) to last until spring, an added bonus!
The shore line of the River is rapidly losing the seasonal residents. Most of the boat hoists and docks have been moved to high ground. What a shame, they are missing some of the best weather of the season, not to mention the changing landscape. Sunday I drifted outside the entrance to Millen’s Bay in a warm breeze. I had no more than a tee shirt and shorts on for most of the afternoon. There are two tall poplar trees at the shores edge, by the bays entrance and I noticed drifting leaves in the River.
My eyes followed the huge grey tree trunks, where the leaves were shedding from swaying branches. One by one they twirled in spirals settling on the River like tiny parchment boats. The song “autumn leaves” came to mind and played in my head as I watched what must have been the inspiration for that song, long ago. Each leaf floating through the air drifted exactly like the descending (light taps) on the keys of a piano.
The version that I remember was by Roger Williams. It was the only piano instrumental to ever reach number one on the Billboard charts and it remains the best selling piano record of all time! Only tonight while doing some research, did I find out that Mr. Williams left this world… the same day that I recalled his song. This natural world that God has created inspires us, awes us and is a timeless link to our past, present and future. As beautiful as that song is to remember, it would not have come to be without some simple falling leaves…
No comments:
Post a Comment