4 30 13

CHAPTER 4

 

The birds along the River Walk have certain human people whom they trust and actually liked more than others.  The human brain, as wonderful as it is, is just not adapt at understanding the activities, let alone the thoughts, of the little creatures in the woods.  Mostly we think of them as cute little critters that God put on earth for our own amusement.  Forgetting that they actually have a purpose, not to mention personalities and rarely do we think of them as we do our domestic pets.  To our pets we assign human traits because they become "Part of the family".  Rarely do we do the same for the wild inhabitants of nature.  Shame really because they are so observant of us.

 

  Saint Louis is gradually learning his environment, is a keen observant of the live styles around him, and more than willing to teach the young birds and animals anything that he has learned. 

 

While Charles, the chickadee, is a curious critic of human behavior, he nonetheless willing to accommodate said behavior.  Raucous, the blue jay is the purveyor of woodland food sources, danger and conspiracy theory.  Lil Bits is the little Screech Owl shadow of Uncle Julius the Barred Owl Barrister of the Owl Woods at the south end of the River Walk.  But there are others who comprise the wild community that we humans all too often take for granted.  Often and smartly not so the other way around.

 

"PEEaweee, peeyoooo, peee-didip!"

 

"St. Louis, the water in the river has risen overnight.  How is that?"

 

The young fly catcher, not long out of the nest looks at the rising waters thinking that only world he has ever known is coming to an end.

 

"I can't even find some of my favorite perches...!

 

"What's happening Louis?  Peee-didip!"

 

If birds could smile, and I contend that they do, Louis would be doing just that.  Having survived many high water periods that the humans called floods, he was undisturbed by the natural ebb and flow of the river.

 

"My little friend, Zipper, you will find that this is normal and we simply have to adjust to the water.  It is the source of all the life around us.  It gives us new growth and takes away the old.  It provides cover in which to hide and food for our bellies.  Up and down is normal.  All you have to do is literally go with the flow."

 

  Chuckling at his own joke he flits from branch to branch keeping a protective eye on his young student as would all good teachers.  He notes that his favorite human has quietly passed with his camera and walking stick.  This reinforces the calm that Louis projects to the younger bird.  Perhaps all is right on the River Walk today despite the rising waters!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4 28 13

 

RAINY DAYS AND SUNDAY.

 

Or is that rainy days and Monday.  As a friend of mine once said about momentary confusion...."Its all in-venereal to me"! But it is Sunday and God is crying!  We are finally getting some much needed rain which drives the city managers nuts as it reduces the need for us victims to use city water and that reduces their daily income.  Politicians are all of the same stripe I am beginning to think, but I am glad we're getting some moisture on the tender new plants trying to become mature weeds in my garden.  No photos today as the good Dr. of Blogology over at Google seems to think that Sunday is a day of rest or something and the uploader is down.  Of course if you are in real need to look at photos, go to the website and spend a few hours with your credit card in front of you.

 http://skip-willits.artistwebsites.com/

 

When I have climbed my personal mountain to find that bearded guy sitting cross legged in front of an open cave and he tells me I have one question I can ask...Well I've been thinking of that question.

 

I think that all I can hope for is that the old guy is not "Uncle Si".  You know you've seen him on TV or in the corner of the room at family reunions, quietly babbling to himself.  Or maybe he's the weird uncle with too much happy water at the last wedding you attended.  You find he's full of wisdom, but only when you finally peel all the layers of onion away and can understand what it is he's saying.  And you better be happy that it is "Uncle Si"...Jack!

  I so want to be that guy when I grow up.

  Maybe the good Lord has just such a cave where I can sit and answer all the questions of the newly uninformed.  If so, just don't ask me to tell you where to get the best deal on used tires, or used cars, or the best bait shop, or how to raise your kids.

Kind of a blue weekend.  We lost a country and western singing legend, which I am counting in my personal bad things of three.  George Jones.  I actually met him once at a concert we were giving up in Flemington, NJ.  He was actually more drunk that was I at the time.  And that was going a country mile.  I guess we both cleaned that act up to a degree.  At least I did.  He barely made the concert.

We lost a young man some thirty to fifty years too early, and it's just plain sad.  RIP RJ, you will be missed.  We have another friend in critical condition who needs all the prayers one can muster....Give it hell John!  And for the rest of you who just need praying for in general, please accept my humble concerns and prayers for you and your family.

And for those who claim they don't need praying over....well, we'll just wait and see and you better hope that it ain't me at your cave door.

I'll continue to work on that question.



4 24 13

CHAPTER 3

 

 

"My God Lilbits, that song is enough to wake the dead.  Can't you wait till the rest of us are awake before you rattle the forest?"

 

"But Louis, I am full of field mice, in a good mood, and besides my music is the finest in all the forest.  I have been hunting and gorging all night and am headed back to the owl woods for a good day's nap.  Uncle Julius is already on his perch in the old sycamore tree on the hillside by the path.  It has been a good night indeed and I am late in returning.  I spent way too much time this morning watching the otters play on the upper end of the walk.  Now they know how to make their day go by quicker...always full of fun and frolic and never indulging in any of those human behavior skills like jealousy, depression or anger.  Just a fun bunch."

"OH, Hi Charles and how are you this fine morning?"

"Wide awake, thank you very much Bits. You're worse than all the roosters over at the chicken plant with that call.  Can't you go somewhere and take some voice lessons?"

"Why would someone with a voice as good as mine need lessons you twit!  I am the "Voice of the North!"

"But this is the South.  And don't you dare wake Raucous this early.  The din would be unbearable to those of us with any sophistication at all.  And where is Uncle Julius speaking of sophistication, I have some questions of him regarding the behavior of those humans?"

"If you had been awake,  I told Louis that Uncle was back on his perch.  Which is where I should be instead of dawdling with the likes of you two."



 

 

 

 

 

4 22 13

CHAPTER 2

 

"Chicadee dee dee dee"

 

"Charles", the Black Capped Chicadee announced his presence to St. Louis.

 

"These humans have taken over this area.  They even want me to land in their hands for a few paltry seeds.  Of course I do humor them.  I have even gone so far as to pose for their stupid photographs!"

 

The little bird, as though dressed in formal attire, flitted up to a tiny branch well beyond the perches chosen by larger birds.  Weighing only 11 grams he was tiny even by Louis's standards.  Friendly to humans, if only as a way to make it through the winter months, Chucky was a fun little friend to have.  Despite his diminutive size his call was large and distinctive.  His sense of humor a delight to all his friends.  And teasing to humans as he waited until they were just within reach before flying off was his speciality.

 

"Charles, you are such a tease but beware you get to close to all those much bigger creatures.  Cute doesn't always carry the day you know.  And what are you doing here along the river and not at those feeders in all those neatly groomed back yards over the ridge?"

 

"I heard Raucous and had to check out what was going on.  You know how humans just have to stop and watch a car wreck.....Well, if that noisy bird starts, there must be something to it.  And all I find is you sitting here in apprehension and hiding from even a mild north wind.  You are a way to nervous an individual!"

 

"P-shaw my friend.  One can never be too cautious and besides all that purveyor of conspiracy theory was doing, was a noisy greeting.  The river walk is void this morning.   No thin skinned humans and their obnoxious pets.  I must admit it is funny to see them straining the way they do at the end of a vine attached to a wolf like animal of questionable lineage.  They tell each other that it is good exercise to walk the animal.  That is when they actually talk to each other.  Well, if it was such extraordinary exercise, why don't they keep up with the beast?"

 

St. Louis was far more realistic than most of his friends.  He had a clear attitude toward things even of which he had no knowledge.  If it was new to him, his caution exceeded that of the feral cats that over populated the area and were not only a nuisance but an actual threat to life and limb.

 

 

"I was luxuriating in a bath of black oil sunflower seeds that my favorite human had left by his back window.  I heard Raucous's announcement of glee and it so startled me that I just had to come and investigate  for myself.  What a disappointment, I thought he had cornered Uncle Julius and the war was back on."

 

Uncle Julius is the all wise, all seeing, Barred Owl who inhabits the "Owl Woods" about two miles down river and just about at the end of the Riverwalk.  Older than most of the birds along the Congaree and much wiser, he is often shadowed by Lilbits.  She being a diminutive screech owl living in the same general area as Uncle.  She always seems to be his shadow.  While the larger owl announces his presence in the evening with the deep hooting that humans love and are familiar...Lilbits emits horrible screams  that resemble a pair of mating fox or a small human child being pulled slowly apart.  Only way to describe her song, of which she is immensely proud and for which universally derided.

 

"That reminds Louis to ask Julius what it is about those humans.  I mean they have no feathers and even if they could get both feet off the ground, they would only fall on their back sides.  Flying is obviously out of the question for them.  They can't keep warm in winter as they are as bald as the turtles in the river.  I mean I have seen them in the summer....not a pretty site!"

 

 

"You do have a point chuck!  But look at the beautiful walk they built.  Before this, those poor souls unable to fly had to crawl, walk, run or slither through the meanest of landscapes.  And now they even have bridges across the river.  Do what end I know not.  But we have to give them credit for something."

 

 

 

 

"Perhaps so Luis, but then you see the way they treat our world"

 

 

"I just don't understand and am just going to have to ask Julius about all this!"

 

 

 

4 21 13

CHAPTER 1

The dead of winter along the River was not a solid freeze by any stretch of the imagination.  One from a more northern clime would enjoy it is as simply,  a crisp day.  St. Louis of Cayce hid amongst the leafless limbs of a wild marsh along the Congaree of South Carolina.  A distant descendant of the first St. Louis of the sand bars, he was young and in need of food found sparse at the river's edge this time of year.  It would be a month or so before the warehouse known as spring would be open for business.  All species of wildlife and particularly the songbirds worked hard for their rations.  In most cases the effort almost equaled the nutritional value found in those sparse findings.
 

 

This was his second winter.  He had learned during his first to puff his feathers up to conserve body heat and provide insulation from the cold.  He learned to stand facing the wind, tucking his head under a wing only when the sun finally dropped beyond the western horizon.  His kind is the last to roost at night and one of the first to rise.  His inerrant nervousness also kept him safer than most of his species.  Those who where more trusting of the human invention and their nonchalant attitude towards the native songbirds.

"Toolili toolili SKRRR?" 

 

Broke the solitude of the marsh making the red bird shutter his feathers and tighten them in preparation for flight.

 

In human terms..."Why do you sit there freezing, you silly red bird and not join me at the humans smorgasbord beyond the ridge?"  Such an intrusion could come from none other than "Raucous of the Wood".

  

 

Raucous was an acquaintance of sorts and the neighborhood first responder to all things deemed dangerous or eatable.  Loud, brash and even pushy this friend was always looking for the angles and in human terms was the explainer of all conspiratorial activities.  It was thought that he always told the truth or as close as he thought he had to get to it.  You just never knew if he was screaming as an alert for a new source of food or the danger of a voracious snake climbing a tree in search prey.  His approach was pretty much the same for most things.  But his favorite activity other than pontificating was to chase the numerous Barred and Screech owls of the bordering hardwoods.  There was nothing more fun than to swoop after the much larger bird and pester it to distraction.

 

"But there are cats, dogs and those hideous squirrels that all frighten me so.  I intend to live a long life and so I am not willing to take that chances of which you are so fond.  Besides, I prefer to feed on the ground and all those feeders or whatever they call them are six feed in the air.  Just doesn't instill confidence!"

 

"Pa-shaw, you should have been born a chicken instead of a songbird.  There are so many of us at these breakfasts that you would have enough warning to save your precious tail feathers.  Some of them even have gooey stuff with seeds mixed in.  I heard one of the humans call it suet and they can buy it for only a dollar ninety a cake at the Piggly Wiggly."

 

"Raucous what in the world is a Piggly Wiggly or for that matter a dollar ninety?"

 

"St. Louis, you really don't know much do you?  There is this big place where all the trees have been chopped down and the humans drive their shiny horseless things and put them between all the white rows of paint.  I guess their not too smart because somebody has to tell them how to stay between the lines.  Then they all walk into this big square place and disappear for hours on end.  When they finally reappear, they are pushing things that look like tangled wire on wheels. Then they have to put all kinds of stuff in their shiny things and leave."

 

"Really?"

 

"Yes, and the seagulls tell me that there is always food found round all those white lines.  Bags and boxes that smell like human food are lying all over.  But I don't think that's were the suet comes from.  Probably, they find it where ever they go in that big square place."

 

"Sounds much more complicated than scratching around the leaf litter and finding seeds, or a worm.  But I do see those bags and boxes along the walk here at the river.  Generally, they are right next to those big wood an plastic things with the black plastic bags inside.  I have looked through those things just before dark and found some tasty morsels.  Not many seeds though."

 

"Well you see Louis, you are part of the way there to feasting with the rest of us at the humans expense.  You already look through their leavings, why not just ease on over and  knock off lunch at the feeders.  Evidently they make a big an effort to feed us as they do their own kind that are not willing to provide for themselves."

 

"Well Raucous, I do provide for myself and am very proud of it.  And when the time comes to raise a family, I will provide for it as well.  I don't intend to take handouts unless it is absolutely necessary.  Even if the humans are foolish enough to provide for me and my family without my participating, I just don't think it's right.  Just like I don't think that it's right to create a mess along our river, it's just too beautiful"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4 19 13

FINDING A WAY

~

PROLOGUE

 

St. Louis, the 1st., spread his bright crimson wings and caught an easterly puff of wind sufficient to carry him across the broad expanse of the Congaree River.

 

 

His chore this day was two fold.  First and foremost he needed to find a mate in a completely new area in order to keep the lines pure.  Secondly and perpetually he was looking for food. 

 

He was one handsome fellow, strong and vibrant.  He knew he needed to lead his kind into the next few generations as change was coming.  He wanted to find just the right mate to accompany him on his journey.

With the crossing accomplished he perched in the top of a mature holly tree, still showing the remains of the bright red seeds matching his own distinctive finery. 

"My name is St. Louis and I come from the east to visit your fine river bank in search of food and perhaps foolery.  But I am a gentleman and will not mislead!"

Human inhabitants would only have heard a high, clear, mostly slurred whistle "Woit woit woit chew chew chew chew chew!"  But then again humans were mostly slow and dim when it came to using God given talents long lost in some European cave.

"Pichew pichew tiw tiw tiw tiw tiw tiw"  The answer of Princess Cardinalis of the western shore.

"I am Princess Cardinalis and you seem to be a Princely southern gentleman, have you come to Court? I am amidst the lovely Camilla blooms and you must seek me out as you are but one of many to whistle this day!"

Both songbirds were, at a year and a half old, in their prime and weighed only an ounce and a half.  Both knew that the future depended upon their attraction to one another and so it was that St. Louis took up residency along the sand bar of the Congaree.  And for a number of years now Queen Cardinalis bore many offspring to sire future generations for years to come.

 

 

4 18 13

NOTE TO MY CARDIOLOGIST!

 

OK, so maybe you were right.  I walked the River Walk this morning for an hour in an attempt to get in some requested cardio work and to loose some of the 67 inches I put on around my waist this past winter.  You were right I will feel much better for doing this..............in a day or so!  But right now I know why I've been putting it off.  But I don't want to end up as fertilizer for all the litter growing stuff down there.  Or as some fallen soft wood!

 

I must admit that there is always something going on down there.  Only about six blocks away and is a paved/boardwalked path about five miles long along the Congaree River.  Neat place with a bunch of stuff for what I call  free-bucket photography.  That is whatever shows up---gets snapped.  Wow, is that professional or what?

 

For instance, this is a really nice touch for all of us Trolls who live under these bridges.  Thoughtful of the folks to add some real art to one of my bedroom walls.  This is under the Blossom Street Bridge between Cayce and Columbia. 

 

This is the copyright signature for this piece.  But since this blog, unfortunately, doesn't make money I don't think that I am violating the copyright.  Particularly because it is in the public view.  Not going to make prints nor post it on FAA.

 

 

There were some taking in their morning constitutions and most smiled and said good morning.  For those who are afraid to acknowledge their fellow man or just too plain stupid to be friendly...you're missing a great part of the walk.  For all the cute college girls jogging along there, please stop looking at me like I am some aged slut.  Your point is? 

 

There must be fish running in the river.  This is the second one I saw.  And I remember just how good that beer tasted at 9:00 in the morning too.  How do you think I earned that bedroom under the bridge.  (I hope you all know I a kidding about all that).

 

And there is still a lot of new growth happening.

 

  Ya just gotta take the time to stop and smell the poison ivy, Jack!

 

 

 

 

4 16 13

EPILOGUE

 

New Hampshire Star Log 2010

Notes from The Last trip!

 

April 28th-Wed

Ice out a month ago and Winnie Derby cancelled cause of lack of fish or some other political reasons beyond our knowledge.  Lack of fish on this trip was the key phrase. 

Putt (the small boat) put on the dock until we could borrow a motor from Scotty and arrival of the big boat delayed for lack of parts.

Snow this morning in Melvin Village, and wasn't till 4:30 that John David, Greenfield, and Paul went out in the big boat.  No runs, hits, and the only error was in going out in the first place  into the teeth of a mounting gale.

The place had been opened that day by Scotty, but the wind blew a tree branch into and  disconnected the water pipe into the lake.  John David (Abe's son) volunteered to do the honors and in sixty degree weather with fifty degree water.  Thank God for designer Vodka!

 

April 29th-Thurs

 

Abe, Skip, Green, Paul, and JD on the water by 6:45

.  Silly puppies, no fish, no hits, Nada, nothing.  Big winds all day steady 50 mph with gust to sixty something.  Damn another 10 mph and we could have classified as a hurricane.  Bill stayed in the house (smart) and

only one other boat on the water.  First ever Canada Geese on the lake.  Saw an eagle and Mergansers.  Putt not running but could not have used it anyway.  Cards and BS played!

April 30th -Fri

No fish.  So much poker being played that Paul said the breasts on the ST. Pauly Girl bottle label of non-alcoholic beer were beginning to look pretty good.  Frey had a good baseball hand that stuffed Green.  He declared four threes when he had 3 threes, a nine with a ten kicker.  Will he ever learn?  Threes and nines are wild Bill!

 

 

Some old memories were dredged up.

The old guy with the red coat and cowboy hat that we saw for years on the water the same as we.  He seemed to know what he was doing and was just a nice guy.

We were catching fish one year regularly at a place in front of a house full of guys just like us.  Up for a week of fishing and drinking adult beverages.  I guess they weren't catching as much and we were.  As we went by they shouted in the New England dialect......"Save some for the Naaa-bars"!  Just classic.

Then there was the Polish Navy.  Some other guys, much like us but without a boat, became creative.  They took their swim float, mounted an outboard, coolers for beer, rod holders, and a charcoal grill.  Shouting to everyone in their way....."We can't steer...get out of the way"!

Way back when, Paul was playing a fish and snatched the fly from it's mouth rather roughly.  That move forever has been called, in catch and release terms, a Smirnoff long distance release.

And finally there was the time we were using side planers...each about fifty feet off the side of the boat and holding up to three fishing lines.  Dave was driving the boat and managed to wrap one of the planers around a buoy. 

Just good stuff and meaning nothing to anyone other than us.

 

May Day-Sat

Finally on the water in both boats.  No Salmon.  Skip one 2.5 lb bass that doesn't count.  Tommy allegedly with one lake trout down three hundred feet on metal.  Doesn't count.  John Greenfield and Abe witnessed the bass catch from the dock, so they were given the idea about how it is all done.

Skip and Bill in Putt.  It looked like JD had a large fish hooked and Paul was waving at it with the net.  Their boat kept turning so we couldn't see much but the fight took some time and Skip was sure the fish jumped, confirming the presence of a salmon.  Finally

when it was adroitly netted by Paul....it was a can of beer and not a fish.  I think it was a Coors light.  Skip and Bill were had again.

Later that night it was Abe's turn in the barrel as the others set up a hand of cards with him getting four wild cards and an ace.  Bill and Skip were not aware of the set up and the betting got pretty wild with everybody raising Abe's bets.  He could not understand it until the final bets were made and they came clean.  His five aces really did not win the twenty some odd dollar pot.  Great laughs.

 

May 1 - Sunday

Clean up and good byes. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4 15 12

And in Conclusion. 

Now that the ice is gone on the big lake, I will shortly have to find new material to spew here upon.  But until then I continue with the Historic events of the fishing group on the big lake in New Hampshire.  If you're new here, you will have to go back a few days to get up to speed with regard to what this is all about.  Short form, a bunch of guys making the same fishing trip, to the same spot, at the same time of the year, for 42 years.  Just like the new IRS short form...0 job, 0 income, 0 taxes due (but they'll figure a way around that shortly).  Like in the state of Maryland.  They've figured out how to tax their citizens of the amount of Rain they get on their properties.  Absolute genius!

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?

 

I have always been able to make fun of myself without having to eat the end of my shotgun.   There was a time way back when, in the "Lost Decade" when I only wanted to live to be forty.  If so I would have been amazed.  Well, I've almost doubled that so there is some truth to the adage that God protects the young children and drunks.  And I hope the outspoken.  I mean it's a wonder somebody hasn't killed me by now because I generally say what I think regardless of who is around or who I may hurt or more significantly who may hurt me.   So here goes!

  

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(others of course). Played pool together (his parents bought him a pool table to keep us off the streets). And of course fished together. We lived near enough so 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 memories that place represents. Not just the five days each year or the five very good friends that partook. 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.  I even miss the preparation.

My steam has always been the visit to New Hampshire 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.  There are still a lot of people I want to piss off!  "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.......My life has been richer, more interesting, and a lot more fun with those guys and that trip in it.  It's been a hell of a ride.

 

"Pauley"

 

"Willy the Cape"

 

"Green, the house Magpie"

 

"Tumbler"

 

 

"Boatride"

 

"Group Hug"

 

 

 

 

4 14 13

           "IT'S GONE"

 

 

Dave, "Davey", or "Tumbler"     

 

"Tumbler" lived in Hunterdon County NJ, and like most of us was 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 vocation was basically in New York, 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 Lackawana 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. This 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 thank Dave. 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 the tied an bunch of flies which we all used for a number of years and had amazing success. 

                                

  The top fly was one of the five or so patterns Davey tied and we are still using some years later.  Another 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 many years. This is a blog entry I wrote upon the listing of the boat 

 

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 from Hilton Head has for years carried his boat from Hilton Head 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 as is her Captain!
 

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 feet on a calm day! She was sold not too many days after this was first written.

 "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 that 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 cans.   He must have had a pint of the stuff and it stank. 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 "Chumming", 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 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. I would guess the spot is somewhere around two or three 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 were alone and no one would no the difference unless 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. 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 at the cocktail/dinner/card table. I of course had to tell the rest what he did and 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.  I honestly cannot remember if one of the fish we caught was worth money...had it been we could never have collected.

4 13 13

ICE OUT!

It's not official, but there is a lot of open water and they are fishing in Wolfeboro Bay.

 

 

And now the fishing may begin .... bring em on!

 

 

 

 

 

 

4 12 13

TENACIOUS

 

 

Thirty degrees and it just doesn't want to let go!

 

Are we having fun yet? 

 

Paul, Pauly, DC, Dumb Cop or Fuzz!

 

Not such a  dumb cop when he was working.  He became one of the three or four NJ State Policemen to become 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 sawing and cutting wood for wood stoves in the winter, 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 on the dock, 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.

 

 

 

DEAL PAULY

Paul is at the end of the breakfast, lunch, dinner, and poker table.  He is probably the most avid poker enthusiast in the group.  No naps....."Let's just turn a few!"   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 do 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 Pauly?  Here smell my hands.  This is what we're up here for.  Or perhaps it was the night at the card game when Paul so annoyed his host that Abe took Paul's watch and threw it against the wall.  Took a couple of days for everybody to get over that one.  But still remembered.

 

 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 the 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.  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

 

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

 

 

 

DC (Paul)  is on the left with the St. Paulie Girl non-alcoholic beer.  Abe's two 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 parallel with the door.  This is an extremely modern convenience as proven by the hook upon which to hang one's underwear.