We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
A view from ye olde fishing club yesterday morning.
Bird list, while trying to focus on the fishing: GB Heron, Mallards, Bluebirds, Robin, RW Blackbird, Carolina Wren, Chipping Sparrow, Song Sparrow, Downy WP, Red Bellied WP, WB Nuthatch, Tree Swallows, Turkey Vulture, Sharp Shinned Hawk, Red-Tailed Hawk, Phoebe.
There was a good hatch yesterday including Mayflies.
A few more stream/fishing pics, and related pics, below the fold -
Next year's firewood, for the place
A good splitter
Good useful vehicles
At the morning drawing, we drew a good beat:
After the stream and its pools, we wet some flies in this pond and I worked on my casting in a stiff breeze. I am not very good at it. Fly-fishing is the most sporting and least effective way of getting supper.
We were using an old E C Powell 8'/9' 5wt and a newish Jim Haynie 7'6 with 4wt and "Sylk" line. Stream is dark, slow & deep, so we used beaded 14 nymphs and conehead woolly buggers in 12. Planted club stream: brooks and Kamloops rainbows. Pond nearby with hold-over steelhead generally 17"-20" size. Fishing was slow - blue sky was unusual for us here so they were cautious!
Lovely pictures. Like Captain Tom, these pictures evoke my memories of spring in New England. In Texas, spring isn't that big a deal, because the winter is so pleasant- for the most part like November in New England. The harshness of the New England winter makes spring seem of greater importance than in warmer climes.
One springtime memory of New England which a picture cannot evoke is that of the spring peepers. When you hear spring peepers, you know that spring has arrived: a most welcome sound, indeed. My childhood home was surrounded on two side by a swamp, and on one side by a stream, so the sound of spring peepers is seared into my memory.
Who can ever forget visiting small New England ponds in late spring and observing masses (or strings) of jelly-like frogs' eggs everywhere? Then later returning to observe the hatched tadpoles scurrying through the water.