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| Baby Hummingbird |
Last week was one of those weeks
where everything came together nicely. Any project that I started ended with
success. Just as I was finishing up my last item from the list, my neighbor
dropped by. He has a humming bird nest and invited me to take some photos of
the babies. He even set a ladder up right under the tiny cup that the chicks
call home. I was amazed at the integrity of the construction. The Hummers
gathered flecks of lichen and I have no idea how it is all held together. It
looked like something that the mythical fairies would make.
The inhabitants barely had two wispy
feathers each. Neither of them had a pronounced “hummers beak” and looked like
any other chick. Of course there are no other chicks that would fit into a nest
that is the size of a quarter dollar! They each were situated butt to beak and
there was room for them to grow. With a diet of sugar I’ll bet that they will become
adult size in no time at all.
After my list of items “to be done”
was complete, I was able to concentrate on the opening of bass season. My son
Steve made arrangements to get here (late) Friday night to join me. I turned my
attention to straighten up the Lyman and the associated terminal tackle. I
stripped all of the ultra light reels of old line that became twisted from the
last month of perch fishing. I go through a lot of four pound test… It is great
for sensing a light biting fish and setting a hook, but it gets worn out in no
time. I rigged up four rods, two for each of us. With my eyesight it is a lot
easier to do while sitting on dry land. When I attempt to do it in the boat it
is like watching an old man thread a needle. Then again that’s exactly what it
is!
My boy and I were up and on the river
around 7:00 AM. There were already a number of other anglers out enjoying the
early morning heat. The first spot we tried held a few perch; it had been
loaded with bass the previous week (honestly). He has heard it all before, “You
should have been here the other day; I could not keep those huge bass off of
the jig.” My son’s confidence soon waned in me as he realized that I did not
even bother to add a net to the boat. On the ride back to the dock he lathered
up in sun block, anticipating a scorcher.
With net on board we headed to
another spot where the bass were last week. A few good perch came our way and
Steve broke the ice with a big small mouth. She came straight to the surface
and abruptly threw the jig back to the Lyman. With an astonished gaze Steve
said; “Wow that fish was the biggest bass I have ever seen. How big do you
think it was?” With all of my years of experience at loosing just such fish I
told him “That it was a solid six pounder. Any small mouth that is over 20” is
five pounds or better and she was all of that.” His next cast hit the mark
again and he landed a three pound fish. He was all smiles and the joy that that
gave me cannot be put into words. I added that one to the stringer of perch, at
least one of us would be enjoying some jalapeño bass. Boo-hoo poor pitiful me,
I really didn’t mind, his enthusiasm was infectious. The next bass he got into
snapped the line at the jig and I handed him the spare rod.
“I’ll strip some line off of this rod
and tie on a new jig. You just keep on catching em.” Fifteen minutes later I
had it ready for him. Waves always come out of nowhere when I try to tie on
jigs. I would almost have the line through the microscopic eye and doink…
another near miss. By the time I was done he had parted company with the jig on
the spare rod. Did I say that things came together nicely all week?
When I got back to holding a rod
myself I saw the shadow of a bass dart past the boat and cast to the image. The
jig did not fall far and it came right to the surface locked into the boney
lipped bass. By the time my son netted that one my arms felt like rubber bands.
At least the knot held and I now was looking forward to some hot grilled bass
too. By this time it was near 11:00 o’clock and I motored us out to the channel
to watch the poker run come up River and then down. The sounds were deafening
but the rooster tails made it all worth the irritation. I took a lot of blurry
photos as the waves from all of the commotion rolled us from side to side. It
seldom works out that I am able to catch those missiles in flight.
I filleted our catch and prepared my
favorite jalapeño brine, allowing them to absorb the heat before grilling.
Steve took a swim and tried to introduce his pup Darby to the River. The dog
may be young but knows that when there is nothing under his feet it is not any
place he wants to be. Steve coaxed Darby to the edge of the dock with a wad of
weeds and then snatched him off. The pup was paddling well before he ever hit
the drink and the one “new experience” was enough for him. He stayed with me
while Steve took the kayak out for a ride and was content to watch his boy from
the dock.
This morning I was on the River by
daylight. The sun broke the horizon to the east and split the clouds with a
banner of pink and orange. I had it all to myself for three hours and in that
time I caught six bass. One was 24” and the biggest one that I have landed from
the River. We wore each other out and it took some time to revive her so that
she could return her to her nest. There are two smaller bass and six perch
hanging from my stringer that need my attention. If you will excuse me until
next week, I have a hankering for some smoked fresh River fish.
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