The Song of Spring Returns - 03/12/2012 - Written by Mike LaDue

Songs in the morning give rise to a warming sun. Singing in the evening settles the last rays of daylight over the River. Sweet feathered fluttering birds and waterfowl add romance to the return of spring! The bland days are now behind us with the returning migrants (whose) tunes glorify and solidify that a new season is upon us.

Robins welcome the early light with single notes from over night perches. Soon there after a blending of other songs create the chorus of a new day. Red wing blackbirds and grackles swoop into the bird feeder to fuel up for nesting. I watched a foursome of grackles waiting their turn to the feeder. They stood in a chorus line facing the cabin from large stump. One expanded its girth and extended its neck to call (out) with an iridescent blue head, which was punctuated with gold-yellow eyes. Once he had finished each of the other three followed with the same performance. Not one of them displayed at the same time. This show went on for a long while, one volley after another from each individual. It soon became apparent that these “boys” had something other than food on their collective minds.

I have been seeing robins wrestling in the yard; they do not posses the same demeanor as the grackles. Robins like one another when it comes to migrating; they travel in large flocks without controversy. Nesting time changes them into menacing defenders of a defined circle. Any interloping robin will be banished without delay. I find it strange that any other species is tolerated and seems to be welcome in the robin’s home range. If they were humans would they be accused of “reverse” discrimination? There would be so many lawsuits that the robin lawyers would tie the whole matter up in court for years. Thankfully nature does not require any intervention. Once a male robin had been throttled by another it seldom returns for another lesson

Canada geese are all over, in the fields, on the River or in the air. I can not go anywhere without hearing or seeing them. Returning from Clayton yesterday at around 7:30, I watched an unending flow of geese returning to the River. For over two miles the sight of Canada’s with set wings descended over the tree tops. It was as if someone had tripped a switch calling the fowl to the River. At one point I could see the River surface which held a few hundred geese. Overhead waves of cupped wings darkened the blue sky as some geese flipped to decelerate. What a delight to watch thousands of Canada’s returning home.

As soon as I walked in the door my bride was on me like a cat. “I watched a boat head out to Carleton this afternoon. It swung out to the point and then went up towards Millen’s Bay. Suddenly it was racing past our dock. I think someone is trying to rub sand in your eyes and I was jealous!” There was no way to respond without sounding envious and so I did not even try. “I’ll bet that wind is cold, not to mention the seats. Some people are just impetuous; have to be the first out and all of that. I still have ice on the boathouse floor and we might still see a freeze up this month. In as much as I would like to put our “gal” back into the River I can’t justify the risk.” Sandy looked over her glasses and gave me a slight nod. I detected that it was not a nod of agreement but one of promiscuous taunting. The longer I stared at her the longer the head nodding persisted. I’ll have to see how the coming weekend looks. It would be wise to get everything back in order before the river rises to much more. “Put the Lyman in mid March is an intriguing idea worth exploring further.” Her nod stopped and was replaced by a broad smile, smooth… real smooth.

The evening skies have been spectacular for star gazing this past week. From sundown to midnight the heavens change and transform as we turn away from the dwindling sunlight. I was present to see gold grow on a neighbors dock. The sun angle was such that it bounced off of the river and clung to a band of water rippling against the boards. A purer hue of gold I have never seen before. It danced across the lumber as if it was a tangible substance, one that I could hold… if near enough to touch it.

The heavenly show has been second to none. We almost seem closer to the planets than normal. They stand out brilliantly for some reason; perhaps it is due to the recent solar flares. My neck has a bit of a cramp from leaning back and looking towards the sky on recent nights. As the nights begin to warm I’ll take my star gazing to the dock, where I can lay on my back in comfort.

A full March moon dictated most of the night sky all week long. One evening while I watched my television the moon rose from the horizon through the trees behind the cabin. The orange globe caught my eye and kept me captivated through out its rise. Soon the earth’s original satellite went from orange to yellow, to an off brown before becoming milk white. Clouds drifted across between us scattering the emitted light like a tiffany lamp shade. They say that planting by a full moon promotes germination. My raised beds are just now soft enough to aerate with the hoe. I think tomorrow I will sow some seeds of spinach, peas and collards for an early crop of each, at least it will be something for the emerging chipmunks to dine on.

Company on the Ice - 02/19/2012 - Written by Mike LaDue

My Good friend Mike arrived in the early afternoon on Thursday. This was his first trip to the River since both he and I had young children. As with many friendships the tasks of life have a way of separating people, creating long lulls of connect ability. Our children have expanded the family and we each have grandchildren located across the country. Mike dedicates his free time traveling and holds a summer job caring for the ball park in his community. This winter presented us with the time, activity and decent weather to enjoy the outdoors.

Mike is an incidental fisherman, he likes to go, but never seems to have the time. In the summer his garden over takes any urge that he may have to take to the water. He grows his own seedlings in a greenhouse and tends the garden like a mother hen. Autumn takes him into the fields with a bow in hand, to become a witness to that splendid season. I can only say that I am half of the man he is, concerning both of those endeavors. He has been very helpful to me over the years. He has guided me on proper planting techniques and advised me into some fantastic over bearing crops.

I on the other hand would rather be holding a fishing rod no matter the season. It is hard to take a hoe seriously or worry about weeds overgrowing, when the River sings her vibrant song. I liken it to the time when we were both kids, back then I was the siren. Mike would be tending his parent’s tomatoes across the lilac hedge, helping to ensure a good crop for their large family. I whispered; “Mike there is some large pike in the creek, I have two poles at the ready. If we go now we will back before dark with some fresh fish!” Even then he realized the merit of hard work and the danger of retribution for lack of it. “I’ll have to take a pass; Dad is more interested in tomatoes than fish. If I go with you I will hear a whistle and you know what happens if I am not back home before its over.”

This week the only obstacle we faced was a cold front with rain attached to it. We caught up on the time that has passed while watching a light drizzle misting over the River. “Well it is three o’clock, how about we take a ride to Eel Bay to see if we can get onto the ice for an hour or two?” Mike responded without hesitation; “Sure sounds like a plan, I haven’t been on the ice in a long time.” I figured that we had better take advantage of the current weather, it could all change by morning and we may miss the opportunity.

Eel Bay had one truck parked on the ice and two others in the parking area. The rain was soft and the wind was light. A veil of fog stretched across the open water around the islands. Tall pines on rock ledges appeared like castles over looking a European River. “Could you ask for a better view than this? It’s like another world.” Mike nodded his head in agreement while we shuffled out to some left over holes.

His tiny jig no more than hit the bottom of the bay and he had his first perch. “I don’t even have any bait on it! I can see them swimming all over the bottom.” Mike settled down onto a bucket and proceeded to catch one small fish after another. My success was much the same, until an 18” pike nosed its way towards the jig and the perch disappeared. “Mike keep your eye out for northern’s, if the perch leave you should move to another hole.” A few larger perch eventually came to each of us as we changed location with the migrating (harassed) perch.

And then it happened, Mike saw a pike ease into view; “I can see a pike, it is just laying here… watching my jig. That is so cool; I have never seen one below the ice before.” That one took a swipe at his jig and darted off, leaving my friend with a lasting impression. We fished until 5:30 and the sun had all but given up on the day. I collected my friend and we pooled our catch, there was enough for a fish breakfast the next morning.

To my surprise Friday morning dawned with relatively dry skies and some sunshine. I prepared the perch in a bath of browned butter and some olive oil (to prevent scorching). The fish snapped and popped in the oil, while a few slices of onion sautéed to a soft opaque white. My browned fillets were complemented by a pair of over easy eggs and some Alteri toast. It was the first time that Mike has had fish for breakfast and after watching his deliberate devouring of it I will assume not the last! “We have two choices as to where to fish today. We can go back to Eel Bay or try Perch Lake. I have not had the chance to fish that one yet.” Mike pursed his lips and decided that we should try the later.

The parking area was almost full when we arrived and a threesome of anglers was traveling down a muddy trail on an ATV. Two of them rode on the machine while the third sat in a plastic sled. That lucky fellow was directly behind the spinning wheels and he was busy ducking dirt. We walked to the lakes edge against a very stout wind. The lake is expansive with out development of any kind near its shores. Both Mike and I stood still to survey the surroundings, aside from Interstate 81 being near, it was pure wilderness.

We needed cleats on our boots to make any headway across the glass like surface and we only traveled a short distance. There was no getting out of that west wind. We had to keep a firm hold on our equipment the whole time, or suffer a long run after it. Ten inches of solid surface ice separated us from the lake. We each hunkered down over a hole and jigged up a lot of small perch. I’d say the largest was 5 inches and they all had a splendid golden hue. Mike hooked a bullhead and lost a pike, I also had a pike briefly which shook free.

Eagles Ice and West Wind - 01/23/2012 - Written by Mike LaDue

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Red Heads on the River - 1/26/2012 - Written by Mike LaDue

The end of December ushered in some pleasant sights and sounds along the River. Ice made an attempt to lock in the River and the placid mirror like surface had not a ripple to disturb it. That was in the early morning hours of Wednesday, by afternoon the River was back to a disturbed annoyance, shedding the ice to roll along once more. It will be some time before I will be able to walk on hard water, this New Year.

The weather switch flipped (once again) on Thursday, with the high temperature of the day straining to reach 14 degrees. We decided to take a drive up River towards Massena and do some sight seeing. As we drove to the east it was evident that it has been much colder to the east of us. Crooked creek that feeds Chippewa Bay was encased in ice to the outlet. Brown cattails lined the shore of the meandering stream that lives up to its name. I made a mental note to take time to paddle that stream in the New Year.

Passing through Waddington I saw my first ice anglers on a small bay near a golf course. There were at least ten of the hearty souls enjoying first ice on a windless day. A day on the ice is not bad so long as that wind behaves, even when it is below twenty degrees. “It looks like they are having a good time and it is a nice day for it.” My Bride shuddered at the thought; “Well I see your true purpose for taking me for a “ride”, now you know where to find good ice. I suppose you plan on coming back tomorrow?” I furrowed my brow and took her hand; “This day is all about you and me baby, if that were not the case I would have brought my ice gear with me!” She shook her head in disbelief at my grand gesture of love.

Coles creek had a good many more anglers and resembled a small city. Dots of humans in dark (cold weather) suits caused me to slow down. There were tip-ups with flags waiting for a strike, while jigging rods exercised weary arms. Wee ones ran across the open white plain oblivious to the cold. A bit jealous I drove on, putting the whole matter out of mind for my gal’s sake. Near Wilson Hill I noticed a mature bald eagle hovering above us. It soared in the open sky as the bright sun highlighted its grand white feathers. This was the first one either of us has seen this season and we marveled at its size. A bit further we saw a second mature eagle sitting on ice near the open water of a bay.

We ended up driving past Massena a ways and stopped for diner. When we returned to the car after dark, the temperature had fallen into single digits. Much to my surprise there was a pair of anglers still on the Ice at Coles! They were out in the open air, with a light glowing over the holes in the ice. They huddled closely together absorbing the heat from the hissing lamp. The thermometer in the car read zero. Those two were cut from a much stronger cloth than myself and is it possible… love to fish more even than me?

Friday morning I awoke to an excited wife, proclaiming a huge raft of ducks on the River. Out in front of the cabin I could clearly see red heads and grey bodies bound together like a woven basket. With my field glasses I could see that the majority of them were Red head ducks with a few blue bills on the fringe. I quickly layered up, pulled on my boots, rain coat and my new goofy hat. With camera in hand I began my sneak to the Rivers edge for some photos. There were two rafts separated by fifty yards, with at least 500 bodies in each raft.

I watched in amazement as each of the rafts of ducks reconfigured into one large group. Ducks were flying in, while others kicked water into the air as they dove for food. Mist from the river added to the mystic of the moment. Drifting snow rained down from the sky in bundles like tornadoes. I laughed to myself at the notion of a new word, “snow-nadoes”. The reason became apparent why the raft had chosen to claim the south shore for the day. I could hear the report of gunfire from the Canadian side.

Saturday morning the event became even more spectacular. Over night the number of read heads had increased three fold! The raft when combined extended over three hundred yards, a sight these eyes have never witnessed before. The River was as calm as an august morning without a ripple to report. I could clearly hear the sound of splashing waves or falling rain against the River. It came from the myriad of ducks diving as they kicked their feet to submerge! Just imagine a thousand out of three thousand kids in a pool splashing water at one another, which was the sound…exactly.

Sunday afternoon the wind came in from the south west while the ducks frolicked in the bright sunshine. Several rafts covered the River for as far as I could see. The sun was high and reflected off of the red heads giving each raft the glow of pale roses in a well kept garden. Suddenly one raft lifted into the sky beckoning more to join. Soon the air was filled with clamoring beautiful waterfowl, sweeping, circling and joining in flight. Like a huge swarm of bees the majority of them rose to meet, greet and leave. Whistling wings and soft rapid chatter ended my encounter with the greatest flight of diving ducks I have ever seen! A great start to a New Year wouldn’t you admit?