The 29th day of the tenth month of the year of the Camellia

ON THE HUNT!

I had the wonderful pleasure of going " On the

hunt" for the first time in a lot of years.  Hunt with that camera that is.  The weather finally got so that there was actually sunshine this morning at 7:30.

I knew that if the otter was going to show, I could make some decent images and the sunrise caught me at the top end of the RiverWalk in West Columbia.  It was chilly and what minimal lingering mist over the water burnt off very quickly.  I arrived at my destination with just enough light to chronicle the starting point of my search. 

I think that I am going to have to rename the area "Moby Rock"!  You can see the large bolder straight ahead that someone painted an indentation which could represent the whale's eye.

I wasn't aware that whales had green eyes, but it did make me look at that rock in a different way than I had in the past.

While standing there and scanning the water, the otter swam onto shore to my left from the upriver side.  About six feet away and caught me by surprise.   I had assumed he started his morning by swimming up stream.  So much for my intuitiveness.  Or knowledge of wildlife for that matter.  He does fish by going up stream because most fish (his prey) will lie facing the flow of water waiting for something to be washed down to them.  Hence, he can sneak up on them from the rear.  After getting around me, he calmed down and started his day.

For a while he remained back lit and hence all of the detail of his face and body were in silhouette.

The light slowly got a bit better and I was able to get a bit more definition.  The golden hour had not started in this location yet, but I could not resist him taking a brief rest.  These guys are perpetual motion most of the time.

This is a nice little scenic of him and of course with much better light.  I spent two hours trying to keep ahead of him as he worked his way down stream.  Trying to keep the light to my back as much as possible and him as close to shore as possible.  Reminded me of my days in the north woods of Pennsylvania and New Jersey in pursuit of white tail deer. 

The 27th day of the tenth month of the year of the Camellia

Trains of Thought!

Yesterday was foggy and got into the high eighties.  Was on the River Walk early but again with terrible lighting.  My new friend the otter never showed. 

It was sorta like being stood up on a date.....little disappointed, but then it's in somebody else's hands.

  I think that I was only stood up for a date once in my life.  Somewhere back in college when either I was too stupid or conceited to be offended.  Lord, there was a reason back then, when I just wished that I would live to be the ripe old age of forty.  Just don't know how I did it.  Fraternity parties, unknown liaisons, and all that sort of good stuff.  Yeah, I flunked out after sophomore year.  Sold sewing machines and vacume cleaners door to door for the Singer company for a year until I could convince the college to mend their ways and let me back in.

Then there was the story that I destroyed about $4000 worth of carpeting because the demo vacume cleaner belt burnt stripes into the nice new white carpet. 

Believe me kids, you don't want to take that kind of route.

You ever get the feeling that you got through life with smoke and mirrors?  I think I was trained for that in the fraternity. 

 Pledging and all that good stuff....Hell Week! 

Ever play ice hockey in your skivvies?  Different kind of hockey.  You rode a block of ice all around the game room until it melted.  Yup, in your shorts.  Then we had to clean it up.  Couldn't date for two weeks. 

The the "House" bought a pet.  A great dane as I recall.  We pledges had to follow the mutt around with a shovel.  Heck if we had bought a poodle, we could've used a spoon!

I will say that it took me eight years to get two degrees, so maybe I done somethin gud.

The 26th day of the tenth month of the year of the Camellia

Finally!

I have been trying to find the river otters that everyone else on the River Walk have seen for the past two years.  This morning there was a considerable fog, lousy light, and out one of them pops about 7:45 AM.

These are not good photos, but under the circumstances I wanted everyone to know that I really am not certifiable.  They are there!  The fog lay heavy enough that rock surfaces were damp and slippery to the foot.  Temperatures were cool and the whole scene felt as though we were deep in an Oregon rain forest.  But in reality only a mile from busy downtown Columbia and the state capital.

This will give you an idea of the habitat with him on the right.

  He was actually headed down river in this shot, but had taken a rest on that boulder.  I think he is a first or second year animal, because the otters in the images I took some years ago on Assateague Island, were almost two to three times larger. 

I first noticed him about 30 yards off shore on this rock which was to my right and down river.

I again apologize for the quality of these images, but it was early, in fog, and all I  had was the 200 mm lens.  If you click or double click on each photo, they will enlarge and become a bit clearer.  He hung out on that rock for three or four minutes while I worked my way closer to the shore, but still some 40 yards above him.

He worked up the river to within about ten yards of me, which apparently was too close and he moved on up from that point and crossed the river.  He did catch a half dozen small fish on his brief travels past me and it was cool to watch him fish. 

Now that I have a handle on a possible path for him to follow, my next chore will be finding his den or at least temporary den.  Last year, there were reportedly five of them in a family setting.  My guess is that this is one of the youngsters.  Be assured I will try to get better images, so stay tuned.

This is the Assateague Island pair, under much better conditions.

The 25th day of the tenth month of the year of the Camellia

DIDJA EVER WONDER?

When the people who built the window in this old southern, dare I say it, sharecropper's house, did they ever wonder.  Or were they so busy, that all they cared about was getting through the day so they could open the window and let the evening breezes cool them

Or at the turn of the century, were there those who sat on the front porch and dreamt,"There has to be something better than this".  There sure was.  We've come along  way in the past hundred or so years.  it is just astounding when you really think about it.  Look what those dreamers made.

The 20th day of the 10th month of the year of the Camellia

Another reason to live closer to your Grand Kids

Yesterday we went to the South Carolina State Fair.

Good eats.  Well Ruth's Chris it Ain't.

I am convinced that people are basically Adrenalin junkies.  Why else would someone do these things to their equilibrium.

This thing carried the chairs up some hundred feet in the air before it stated to turn at a faster and faster pace.  OK I am an old "Fuddy duddy", but if the good Lord meant for "Me" to do that he would have made me an astronaut! Or given me feathers! And speaking of feathers, state fairs still do have farm animals on display.  This, a golden pheasant.

They allowed the State Police to set up a booth just outside of the farm buildings.  Wise guy that I am, I commented to them that they were certainly stuck way back in a corner.  To which they remarked that at least they were outside of the barns.  My retort was that they also smelled better than inside. 

Yes kids, your grandfather did go on some of the rides.  You know the daring old man that I am.  "The Man, The Myth, The Legend."

Sorry, you can't see me but I was huddled on the floor in a fetal position with my eyes closed.  Actually got some decent photographs from that thing.  Thankfully it went slow enough that my stomach did not become part of my frontal lobe.  This is the football stadium where the South Carolina Game Cocks play football.

No, you would not see me on that ride.  Unless of course my grand daughter, Emily, would have gone with me.  That's the only way other than "No Way!"

Of course Sheri was there to make sure I didn't escape from the rides we did take.

And we finished the afternoon on an appropriate note

The 19th day of the 10th month of the year of the Camellia

PART TWO

Paul, "Pauley", "Fuzz", or the "Dumb Cop"

Deal Pauley

Not such a dumb cop when he was working. He became one of the three or four NJ State Troopers to become a Captain. But to us he will always affectionately be the "The Dumb Cop". Paul lived across the street from "Boat Ride" in Bissel, NJ. He has been part of the NJ crowd for years. The town where they lived was nothing more than three roads coming together, but they were the prominent citizens. Like the rest of us they were always cutting and splitting wood for wood stoves, growing vegetables in a garden, and raising animals which eventually made it to the freezers. Real, gentrified, country folk. I think he in fact, was the one to find one of the "Capes" wives in Abe's swimming pool naked with a local judge. But we are not completely sure of all of those facts.

Paul's a big guy and in fact once at the lake picked me up in his arms and dumped me unceremoniously in the lake. Ahhhh, the good old days and an abundance of beer and scotch.

Paul is at the end of the breakfast, lunch, dinner, and poker table in the above image. He is probably the most avid poker enthusiast in the group. No naps....."Let's just turn a few!" Cards that is. I think that quote has been uttered a thousand time by him. He caught on to fly fishing rather early after hanging out with Abe and I, and also took up golf. In my opinion golf is down there, as a sport, right next to "Bait" fishing. But we have three in the group who do it all the time and are fairly good. This photo also reminds me that most of us smoked at one time or another. This photo was taken back,,,I say back,,,,,when we were younger and thought we would live forever. Today. the only ones who smoke, do so only on this trip. I cannot understand that at all, having been a two pack a day guy myself long ago. That is also not a milk carton on the table....probably Cheez-its or some other health food.

Paul is probably the one of the men most easily teased. He takes it so well, but only up to a point. Which is the point. Caught one yet Pauley? Here smell my hands. This is what we're up here for. Or perhaps it was the night at the card game when Abe was so annoyed with him that threw Paul's watch against the wall. Took a couple of days for everybody to get over that one. But still remembered.  Cheap watch anyway.

The one good thing about having him along on the trip, was because he was a cop. That meant we could drive at just about any speed we wished. If stopped....."Paul get your badge out"! One trip somewhere along a highway in Massachusetts, the gumball machine behind us went off and the trooper pulled us over. His immediate commend to us, instead of license and registration please, was "You guys look like a bunch of cops going on a fishing trip". Honestly, that was the opening line. Paul flashed his badge and we sat and talked about the NJ State Police Picnic for fifteen minutes. It seems that it is the best picnic on the East Coast.  He never once commented about our speeding. Good to know people in high places.

He also gave each one of us his business card. Said to use it as a get out of jail free card if ever pulled over. I tried it once in Maryland and the trooper asked me for my badge. I told him to forget it as he probably never got the memo. I guess he was too young to understand the reciprocity.

Pauley is probably one of the hardest workers when it came time for "Chores". Over the years we had to do such things as a group as chop firewood, paint the porch, or build an outdoor shower.

The cop is on the left with the St. Pauley Girl non-alcoholic beer. Abe's too sons are center and rear center. Green left middle and the Cape middle right. I took the photo and Boat Ride is on the right with the evening or noon cocktail. Not pertinent. We are not a bad crew. Please notice the fact that the right wall of the newly constructed shower is exactly parallel with the door. This is an extremely modern convenience as proven by the hook upon which to hang one's underwear.

Dave, "Davey", or "Tumbler"

"Tumbler" lived in Hunterdon County NJ, and like most of us, is a country gentleman. He lived in a completely renovated old field stone barn, which was an incredible treat just to see. He was a later addition to the crowd, but was one of the most creative people I have ever met. His work took place in   New York City, as was mine, which meant a two hour commute each way. We lived at the end of the train line so it made no difference if we overslept going either way. To this day I will never forget those old seats on the Erie Lackawanna line, with a bar car thick with smoke. From the outside, that car looked like it had window shades, so thick the smoke. There was always a card game where hundreds of dollars changed hands each night.

Again nicknames stick. Dave's one came from a night of sipping wine. Well, it's a little hard to justify sipping when one uses a tumbler to drink his wine. Generally somebody has a little too much fun and earns some kind of recognition. In this case the quote is "Hey Davey, want another tumbler?" And of course the nickname. It is all so much more descriptive.

This man in another of one of the most consummate fishermen in the group. One year he tied his own flies, because he felt that the commercial ones were too full or bushy. Smelt are slim or svelte fish, not fat little chums. Hence he tied an bunch of flies narrowly dressed which we have used for a number of years with amazing success.

Please ignore the ant in the photo, but after all I am a nature photographer. The top fly is one of the five or so patterns Davey tied and we are still use some years later. The bottom is the famed "Red Grey Ghost" pattern tied by Jim Warner of Wolfeboro, NH. These Warner flies are classic and renowned all over New England. Dave's flies, while not as well known, are certainly just as effective.

Dave was also the owner of Miss Saigon, a Ducker boat he carried on the top of the car from Georgia to New Hampshire for years. This is a blog entry I wrote upon the listing of the boat for sale.

"Au revoir Miss Siagon!


As most of my more intelligent and informed readers are aware, I travel to New Hampshire each spring fishing with a bunch of cronies who have been doing this for to 42 years.

If your not aware of that or don't fit into one of the two categories above.....you need to follow me more closely!


My friend Dave has for years carried his boat from Hilton Head, SC to Wolfeboro, NH (2131 miles) and used it as his personal fishing craft.

The images here show the last voyage, 2008, of "Miss Siagon".

She is an antique and for sale.

Here is the proof of the boat's effectiveness in a photo entitled "Rainbow over Miss Saigon"

You cannot pass on this investment opportunity!

Well, you can but I can't keep my used car salesman attitude hidden for that long!

The Boat

1. 3136 Ducker’s were produced
2. Built from 1947-1969
3. This one is serial number D2427 was built in 1957
4. Ducker D2427 was built by the Alumacraft Corp. in Minneapolis, MN.

She is for sale and any offer over $4000 will greedily be accepted. You also have to pay shipping and of course I have other pertinent photos of said boat."

She originally was built as a boat used to hunt waterfowl. Two hunters would venture forth in this thing and because of it's low profile was a pretty good hunting tool. Trust me....two people is crowded. And.....the recoil from one shotgun alone would move the boat three or four feet on a calm day!  He eventually sold the boat to two brothers from Pennsylvania, making an outrageous sum he never expected.

"Tumbler" and I have spent many a day on the water together either, just being quiet and absorbing the nature all around us, or discussing what's going on in the world, in which we have absolutely no control. Good company when I can get him off Miss Saigon. He puts more hours in on the water that any of the rest of us and can catch fish.

One year, when fishing was great but catching slow, he decided that we needed to chum for salmon.

Now chumming is a salt water fishing trick used to lure predator fish to the boat. One chops up smaller fish and throws the mess overboard to form a slick on the top of the water and chunks just under the surface.

All year long, whenever he made tuna fish for salads or sandwiches, he saved the oil from the can. He must have had a pint of the stuff.

Now you know where I am going with this.

Bear in mind that we "Purists" would never reduce ourselves to such a coarse attractor as "Chuming", but when nothing else works......well who knows. He and I went out in the middle afternoon in "Putt" to do some serious fishing. I don't think that we had caught as many as four legal size salmon all week, it was probably Friday, and a real morose attitude prevailed within the group. So, we armed ourselves with ample snacks and drinks (this may have been the day he earned the Tumbler name), three fly rods and a spinning rod with (Gasp!) metal.

There is a narrow spot between Cow Island and the shore line where we have had a modicum of success in the past. Place is called the "Barber's Pole", because the post used to mark the shoal is painted like a barber's pole. Some original New Hampshire logic there.  I would guess the spot is somewhere around one or two hundred yards wide, a half mile long, and offers depths from a few feet to around 30 or 40. At any rate, the wind generally does not blow too hard in that cut, and a chum slick would stay put instead of blowing up on shore. With all the lines out, Dave pulls out the magical elixir. I could smell it from fifteen feet away. Not good but we're not salmon, we're alone, and no one would know the difference unless, of course I were to say something. And you know I did.

After a pint of the stuff was dumped on the water, we started to troll around it in reasonably consistent circles. An oil slick did form.  Now for you erstwhile salmon fishers, this is not the silver bullet. We did catch a couple of fish just over the 16 inch legal length. Unbelievable. But the good part was when we once again met the rest of the anglers at the cocktail table. I of course had to report to the what the techniques we employed to catch said fish.  We spent an hour or two discussing the legalities of chumming up a landlocked salmon. The end result was that neither fish counted in the pool which had, because of our lack of luck all week, had grown to substantial levels. Too bad because I would have shared some of that cash. We have a first, biggest, most pool each day for two dollars each. Hence it is six bucks per man and one fish can be as much as thirty dollars per day to the catcher of same.

Skip, "Willy", myself

This is the tough one. How does one write about oneself. With humor? Autobiographically? With tongue in cheek? In all seriousness? In something akin to reverence? In disgust?

Yes.

I am a professional photographer of some local renown and a writer of much less renown.  My specialities are wildlife, lighthouses, and scenic.  I do not do weddings or parties.  People can talk back and ducks cannot...........so my object of preference is the duck or similiar targets.

As I have stated here before, Abe and I go back to high school. You know when the wagons were still crossing the country. Or at least it seems. We have hunted together. Dated together (girls that is). Played pool together (his parents bought him a pool table). And of course fished together. Well live near enough that we could see each other weekly either in school or in young adulthood. We both married girls named Sue. He had two sons and I a daughter and son. Grand children now. He is still married but I messed it up and am divorced. There were not too many years that I did not attend the trip to the Big Lake and when I did not, it was torture.

I am not really sure what the big draw or devotion to that place is for me. I recall my current better half and I visited the lake in off the season and I very nearly, quietly came to tears. Why? I am not sure, but it is the memory that place represents. Not just the five days each year or the five very good friends that partake. It basically has been a distinct part of my life for 42 years and represents where I have been in my journey and where I have not been. Everything is connected it seems. I recall having to take vacations just prior to making the annual pilgrimage, just to keep the peace. Planning what I would bring in the form of my assigned food chore. In some weeks before the end of April each year, getting the fishing equipment ready. This includes taking each of the tandem streamer flies out and passing them through steam from the tea kettle. That steam sets up the feathers like new and they seem to last longer, look fresher, and stir the adrenalin. My steam is this visit to New Hampshire and the Big Lake each spring.

I am still astonished that after all these years all six of us are still alive. When I was in my mid twenties or early thirties, and in my quiet times, all alone, I just hoped to live to the age of forty. Now I want to live to a hundred so that I can act the way people think appropriate for an old man like me. "Oh well, look at his age. What do you expect".... age. Only the good Lord knows how much I or the other five have left, but I can say this.......life has been richer, more interesting, and a lot more fun with those guys and that trip.

As I am generally behind the camera, this is one of the few images in my files in which I am a member. From left to right......Tumbler, Boat Ride, the House Magpie, Willy, Willy the Cape, and Pauley. The unholy six. I repeat. Now you know where they get all those stern portraits hanging in antique frames in all the "Cracker Barrels".





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THE 18TH DAY OF THE 10TH MONTH OF THE YEAR OF THE CAMELLIA

FRIENDS TO FRIENDS--Part One

In a continuance of the saga of my spring fishing trip to New Hampshire, I felt compelled to introduce you to the "Playas" on that trip.  There are six of us who have now done this thing for 42 years.  Quite a feat to say the least.  This is the first of two installments.

Evidence shows that there are basically five of my friends who comprise this group of anglers who have gone each spring to the semi-wilds of New Hampshire's Lake Winnepasaukee, in search of the lowly landlocked salmon. We would gather generally on the last Wednesday in April and stay until the following Sunday. In no particular order I would like to introduce them.


Frank, "Abe" or at times "Boat Ride"

Basically Abe is our host and has been so since 1968, the first year. That year, he and his father co-hosted me, so it was no big thing. We went just to prove that there were really salmon in the lake and more importantly that we could catch them.

Abe and I graduated High School together. He went on to college at Colgate and then to Penn Dental, followed by a hitch in the army as a dentist. I recall visiting he and his lovely wife at Fort Leonard Wood, in Missouri. At that time, I was working for Merrill Lynch in my first two years of training to become a commodities broker. I was in Chicago where I had gone for a two week training period, which turned into six months. When I finally left the windy city, I and my wife took a detour to visit with the young dentist "Captain" and wife in Missouri. We then drove back to our New Jersey home through some of the more scenic back roads of W. Virginia and Virginia. Sometime around then a book was written about the "Blue Highways" and we followed the same on the map from old Miss to Westfield, NJ.

After discharge, Abe started a dental practice in Oldwick, NJ which is central to that state in Hunterdon County. We, at the time lived in Gladston, NJ, which was only a few miles from his office and home. Needless to say he became our family dentist and remained so almost to his retirement. Since the beginning, just about every tooth in my mouth has fallen out, but I don't think he had much to do with that.

The two of us roamed around most of the farms around his home in Biddle, NJ and became members of the Black River Road and Gun Club in Pottersville, NJ. My late father in law introduced us to the club and we were subsequently offered membership. The club maintained a couple hundred acres of prime hunting land and over two miles of one of the most pristine trout streams in the state. It was one of the few streams which had a natural spawn of brook trout. Abe and I would each go on to preside over the club some years later.

The lake property and house in New Hampshire was owned by his grandmother. With her passing, Abe's farther and sister owned the place and then as in most families the property went to the offspring. In this case to Abe and his sister, and now to their children. The property was some hundred acres of deep woods and probably 200-300 yards of shore line.

Abe acquired the name "Boat Ride" because he was always driving the big boat and often not finding any fish for his passengers.  He was then labeled as driving the tour bus and not performing his duties of guide.  It's tough living with our crowd.  If you perform, you are one thing and if you don't, your another.  I think you will discover that there is no such thing as winning in this group.

"The House Magpie" on the left and our host, "Boat Ride" on the right

John, "Green" or the "House Magpie"

John was Abe's room mate at Penn Dental. Yep another dentist! A very nice guy who started out using a spinning rod and a plastic lure called a "Repala".

Now remember the rest of us are purists. That is, when trout or salmon fishing, nothing replaces a well tied artificial fly, on a leader, on a fly line, cast or held by a fly rod and reel. So one of Abe's best friends shows up with a "Wall Mart" spinning rod and reel, and a "Repala".

A "Repala"!

A Repala is a plastic thing made to swim just under the surface of the water and imitate a three or four inch minnow. It has three or four treble hooks and is very unsportsman like. I think in his second year he showed up with a "Wall Mart" (green fiberglass I think) fly rod. He now became a full member of the club.....but.

He insisted upon using a huge ghastly yellow fly called a "Barns Special". This fly is meant to imitate a young perch, which is about the fifth most tasty bait on a salmon's shopping list. It is designed to catch fishermen at the tackle store. The rest of us use flies that approximate the most prevalent fish in the lake and number one on the shopping list, a smelt.

Over the years, John began to get the message and changed his ways to include other fly patterns such as the Red Grey Ghost. That fly has caught more salmon on our trip than any other single fly. So John went from trip goat in the early years pretty consistently to only a modest goat in our later years. Being a goat means you have not caught any fish.  Don't get me wrong. We all have been goats. Your humble writer himself being one for a solid two and half years. There is nothing wrong with that, other than it is painful as hell when it happens. And the others, "Friends" make sure the pain is inflicted and real.

"Green" shows how to troll a Rapala on a green Wall Mart fly rod

John is of the opinion that the slower one plays poker, the better and more successful he will be. He also holds his cards tightly and very, very slowly opens his hand one card at a time. He does succeed in driving the other players from the table to do some minor chore or other and be back in time for him to bet. His success is also inversely proportionate to the amount of adult beverages consumed. Or course that could be said of any of us at the table, although two of us went through AA along the way. That trip does test one's resolve.  The title of  "House Magpie" was they result of way too much Vodka one night.  He got very talkative and actually played his cards a lot slower (if that is possible) as a result.

John is also the only one to suffer a heart attack while on the trip. He felt ill, but was not diagnosed until he returned home. Thank God. He is in good company though as one of us has had a blood clot, another a stint in the chest, and the third a triple or quad by-pass. None of which are good enough excuses to miss a fishing trip, but amazingly we are all still on the green side of the dirt.  I mean if you can't physically fish, you can at least drive the boat.

Bill, "Willy the Cape", or the "Bead Merchant"

"Willey the Cape" displays his professional angling style.

As in any group of men who at seventy something years and still consider themselves to be in high school, nicknames have a tendency to stick.  Bill's is no exception and "Cape" refers to his physical similarity to a chicken or capon, when dressed for bed and in a bathrobe.  I think this name, not the least bit humorous to the reader, was probably created back when when copious amounts of adult beverages consumed by the group.

Bill lived in Hunterdon County, NJ and was introduced to me by another member of the group a few years after our first trip north. He ran a Christmas shop in Hunterdon County, just outside of Oldwick. The shop sold all sorts of decorations including beads and hence the "Bead Merchant" moniker.

Bill is a tad bit older than the rest of us, has had a couple of wives but is the last one would think of when one conjured up the dashing, Hollywood, concept of a ladies man. But, who knew! He is a consummate fisherman with almost as much experience in salt water as fresh. Bill loves to analyze why the fish are biting or not biting which drives the rest of us nuts. He also has a tough time making decisions, which really does push our nerves to the breaking point.  He is always asking for other opinions before he finally pulls the trigger on a conclusive decision.

Consider this.

A backwoods cabin, deep in the New Hampshire woods, six men all sleeping in sleeping bags, in their long underwear (for at least three days), and Bill has to have sheets on his bed. Pajamas and bathrobe with slippers. That's Bill, and that image gave him the name "Cape".  He looked like a dandy chicken dressed up like that.

This is the man who never learned, in some forty two years, how to play poker! We would have to explain the rules with each deal, each year! If anyone could bluff at our card table and win, it would be he! We play nickel, dime, quarter, dealer's choice......All the time! If the ante is a nickel or dime, top bet is a quarter. We don't look to make money at this game, just have fun. If Bill bets a quarter....everyone folds their hand. Everyone. He never bets, let alone raises. He could have a royal flush and still only bet a nickel. But that's bill.

He has had more real and imaginary physical problems up there than anyone. Too cold was his excuse a lot of years for not fishing. His hands would get too cold. Or his feet. The rest of us would just layer up and not complain. Poor circulation I guess.

One of his wives tried to keep his diet on the straight and narrow (this is not the place to do that) and put him on a low cholesterol regime. He showed up at the lake that year with a dinner comprised of a turkey sausage dish. Abe, upon seeing what he was expected to eat, reacted at the top of his lungs in the way only one of us could. "Cape, what is this ....? Insert a crass term referring to excrement. I have to admit it was pretty bad, but we never went hungry.

Three guys would each bring a dinner, one breakfasts, and one lunch materials. One night we ate leftovers. Needless to say there is enough cholesterol to stop up the Lincoln and Holland tunnels combined. One year every one of the dinner people brought the same green vegetable.......Canned pees. We ate those things all week long!  To this day, I still look at canned peas with a modicum of disdain.

And who of us could forget the call from the bathroom one day.  One of us was making a run to town for something (Probably more beer). It was a plaintive call that compares in the north woods to that of a lonely loon. You know that long sound one hears during the night from over a calm water surrounded by echo. Plaintive, pleading as only an old horny bird can make, in the still of the night, when looking for his mate. "Don't forget Feenamin!"

THE FIFTEENTH DAY OF THE 10TH MONTH OF THE YEAR OF THE CAMELLIA

BROWN BEAR AND A RANT

I did my morning walk at the zoo yesterday, about three miles with a half mile up in a relatively steep hill.  This half mile trail is under advertised, so that the sheepeople are not following each other through the dell.  I like that because it gives me photo ops and time to think (always a bad thing) without other noisy people being thrust into my empty little head of mush.  Yep, I'm still learning.

I did get to make some images of one of the local brown bears living at the zoo.  Normally this guy is lying on his back, on a rock, scratching his belly.  Not so outdoorsman like photos there.  Outdoor and nature photographers for the most part frown upon zoo shots and rightly so.  They are not normal.  The beasties are all basically bored.  If you think about it, a brown bear can travel hundreds of miles a week over a wide variety of terrain.  Sorta like us when we take a road trip.  Only they are out looking for dinner or somebody to love (an old song that "somebody to love").  So when their are all penned up for the rest of their lives, they are just simply bored.  At least he was looking in the camera's direction when I pulled the plunger on the camera.

OK, now for my once every so often rant!  Been a while and I know you all enjoy them so much, so I try to keep them to a minimum because they are so much fun.  Sorta like the icing on the cake.

November 2 will witness, I say witness, I say "Amen", the single, most historic, most critical, most important thing you will have the privilege to do in your present and future life time!  VOTE!!!!!!

Dems, Repubes, Indies, T-partiers remember this......you don't get to complain if you don't VOTE!

It starts with the dog catcher and goes up from there.  Vote for people who address the issues at hand and kick out the mud slingers, equivocators, liars, prevaricators, power seekers, and inside the belt wayers.

Remember if it's inside the belt (way) there is only one person getting screwed.    I mean that's where it all starts, inside the belt (way).  They won't listen to us, lie to their constituents, and go back to the belly of the beast and do only that which empowers them and to hell with "We the People"

Just Vote....................It's important.

And if you get to the fork in the road, I say if.....Just take it!

THE 12TH DAY OF THE TENTH MONTH OF THE YEAR OF THE CAMELLIA

ONE PIECE AT A TIME

Yesterday I did my morning walk at the Riverbanks Zoo.  Why not!  We have season passes so it's free to walk AND I get to take photographs too.

From the smallest or at least the daintiest.

I forgot that it was a holiday of sorts, so all the crumb crunchers and there parents were out strolling around, screaming, and generally making themselves obnoxious.  Lord, the animals were better behaved.

Got a good image of the largest.

He may just make the cut for the Easton Waterfowl Festival.  All he needs is feathers!

The 11th day of the tenth month of the year of the Camellia

SOCCER!

Last evening we, Sheri and I, took the dogs to a school play ground for a run.  We found an operable soccer ball and never having played soccer past the second grade, I thought it would be fun to play a game with the dogs.

That would be "Missy", our over energetic border collie and spaniel mix.  Must have been painful!

At first she wasn't too sure of this old guy running around kicking a big ball.

Then there was "McGee", the Chalupa dog!  He could have cared less and became the game official who watched the re-runs and then made an official decision.  But only when bribed with a "Cookie"

"McGee" became the official, "Official" because he had no interest in the ball other than to get out of it's way because it was bigger than he.

"Missy" began to get into it with the pregame press interviews and picture sessions.

She quickly proved to be very good at defense. She was so quick, it was so difficult to get a ball past her.

McGee quickly cried foul when she simply picked the ball up and ran with it.  This was not football Missy!

Missy goes for a header.

I finally got an opening and "Score"!

She was pretty petulant about my score!

In fact, I just simply wore her out.  The Chalupa dog was still looking for a cookie so they both got a treat.

I guess the old man still has it!



TEN ~ TEN ~ TEN

The tenth day of the tenth month of the year of Camellia (2010)

Ok, another wierd state of affairs.  Doesn't happen very often but is cool when it does. 

Play the lottery maybe?  I wonder just how many people do play something like that on the lottery?

Think I have already hit it, but not on that number or any other.  Two great kids and four fantastic grand kids.  Best lottery going!

It's going to be back in the high eighties low nineties here for the next week, but the past week God blessed with absolutely crystal clear skies, low humidity, temps in the seventies to low eighties.  Just can't beat that.

I have had to cancel my apprearance at the Lighthouse Challenge in New Jersey next week, so all of you that were going to me me in Angle Sea...........You'll just have to do it in Easton, Maryland----the Weekend of Nov. 19,20, and 21.  I realize there aren't three days in most weekends, but the show starts on Friday.  This is my 21st year and most of the local papers will play that up.  It is also the 40th year of the show.  Just hope I can make the fiftieth.  My new goal!

I will be taking a few of the local photos I made like the Bataue in the fog seen here. 

Good luck with that lottery thing!

The 8th day of the 10th month of the year of the Camellia

WALKED THE RIVER WALK YESTERDAY!

Got a couple of shots which might make the cut. 

There seem to be many more geese on the river than last year.  I dare say even more than I have seen in the past five years.  Does that mean a harsher winter up north this year?  Critters are so much smarter in these things than we.  I have not taken a look at the "Farmer's Almanac" yet, so who knows.

I have so many images of great blue herons, so I decided to use this reflection of one that was intent on feeding.  The only time one can get close enough to these guys is if they have some hapless minnows they are looking at as breakfast.

Red Spider Lilly

A dab of color in what reminds me of "Rock, Paper, Scissors", although I have no idea why.  Could be the softness of the "Lycoris Radiata" positioned next to the harshness of solid rock.