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.
Postal socks! Letter carriers of the Postal Service have extreme needs for quality socks, and I found them by accident while looking for hiking socks on the Thor-Lo company website.
Got some before I left on my trip. I tend to walk a great deal.
This photo was on the morning of the 4th, before I got the rest of my hosed-down camo life jackets and my vast assortment of hosed-clean blaze-orange shooting stuff, some waxed and some not, hanging up on this thing to be dried and refreshed in the sunshine.
That basement flood was rough on my gear (much of which was on or near the floor), and it all needed a serious, high-powered hosing-down -not a washing machine. It got most of the mold and dirt out, but everything needed a good long sunshine treatment.
Maybe I need a real outdoor clothes line, like my Mom has. She hates to sleep on sheets that have not hung in the New England sun, summer or winter. That old Yankee gal believes that sun on your sheets gives you good dreams, and the thick scent of the Berkshire wild thyme helps.
Bird Dog - Spent Friday morning fishing for striped bass with Pops and Mother's cousin. Caught our limit of six fish greater than 28 inches in about five hours. We fished out of Groton (and off Fisher's Island), aboard "The Otter" with Captain Bruce of www.captainbrucesportfishing.com.
The weather turned out fine, with moderate swells and no rain. Limited visibility kept most other boats in port. We trolled surgical hose with sandworms and our largest fish was 26 pounds, caught by Pops. We had three more striped bass, too small to keep and one bluefish, which Pops claims he will make into fishcakes.
With the 25+ pounds of filets, a great time was had by all.
People join PETA because they think they understand the relationship between man and nature better than a guy who goes out in a rice paddy, at night, with a spear, to kill the feral hogs that are trying to eat every last grain.
That's your hard-working Editor in the background, fishing in Connecticut in the Spring rain a couple of years ago. It's time to review some of our good trout posts from the past.
I know it's a cheap shot which is beneath Maggie's dignity, but that photo (Caption This) from Wizbang isn't a person walking a dog: it's a dog walking a person. I just use the photo to make the point that, in general, it only takes about 3 hours (9 20-minute lessons at 2-3/day) to train a pup to heel (his nose at your left knee), and it will never forget with regular reinforcement of the lesson. Nobody wants to be seen in public with a dog that will not heel because it's a reflection on you, like a kid that throws food. Pinch collar and dog yummies. An untrained dog means you don't really care about the animal, same as an uncivilized kid. In the Obama's defence, that is a darn good-looking PWD (if a bit older than the ideal 6-9 weeks), but any dog can be easily trained. Obedience is what they are bred for. It just takes a few minutes and a little firmness. The training is the real bonding. Train that dog the way you train the Dems in Congress. Sit! Heel! Vote!
Government should bail out dying media. Brilliant! Just like Chavez. Or Pravda. Put 'em on the gummint payroll and they will play nice, like the BBC and the CBC.
Treasury "allows" bank to return TARP funds; bank complains about changing the rules. Duh. Take their money and you're on their plantation.
An old pro like Barack Obama has to be more amused by these protests than worried about them. The left is laughing for a reason.
If the right wants to succeed in civil resistance, it needs to study the tactics of the left and adopt the methods that are not incompatible with its own morality.
On the weekend before trout season opens, our hunting and fishing club Chairman, the Fishing Chairman, and our manager perform the annual ritual of walking the length of our stream checking the beats, the conditions of the pools and of the paths, and generally making sure that things are up to snuff. We have a mile of this stream in CT, with some larger ponds and beaver marshes in it.
This was Friday, on a narrow section of the stream -
When I was a kid, my babysitter would take me fishing for Blue Crabs off the dock. What it required was a string with a hunk of bacon tied to the end. When you gently pulled it up to just below the surface, you needed a crab net to scoop up the crabs clinging to the bacon. Otherwise, they would let go of the bacon.
My Mom was never disappointed to find a bucket of two dozen crabs when she got home.
We have posted, somewhat disparagingly, about the Blue Crab's natural history and the Blue Crab as dining material, (too much effort, basically) but we never have disparaged good Maryland crab cakes, especially when consumed in volume with volumes of bad beer in low-life Maryland tatoo pubs with dogs walking around, after a day of duck hunting.
The subject comes up because we noticed projects about the aquaculture of Blue Crabs. Very cool. Fresh water? Who would have thought it?
What a clever country we are. Speaking of clever people, Sippican sends this recipe:
CRAB CAKES 1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter, melted and cooled 4 large eggs, beaten lightly 6 tablespoons sour cream 1/4 cup minced fresh parsley leaves (preferably flat-leafed) 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce 1 teaspoon paprika 1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste 1/4 teaspoon cayenne, or to taste 2 pounds lump crab meat, picked over 2 cups fine fresh bread crumbs 1/3 cup cornmeal 1/2 cup vegetable oil
tarragon tartar sauce as an accompaniment lemon wedges as an accompaniment
In a bowl whisk together the butter, the eggs, the sour cream, the pa rsley, the lemon juice, the Worcestershire sauce, the paprika, the salt, and the cayenne and stir in the crab meat and the bread crumbs gently. Form 1/2-cup measures of the mixture into twelve 3/4-inch-thick cakes and transfer the crab cakes as they are formed to a baking sheet sprinkled with half the cornmeal. Sprinkle the crab cakes with the remaining cornmeal and chill them, covered with plastic wrap, for at least 1 hour or overnight.
In a large heavy skillet heat the oil over moderately high heat until it is hot but not smoking and in it sauté the crab cakes in batches, turning them once, for 3 to 4 minutes on each side, or until they are golden, transferring them as they are cooked to paper towels to drain. Keep the crab cakes warm on another baking sheet in a 200°F. oven. Serve the crab cakes with the tarragon tartar sauce and the lemon wedges. Makes about 12 crab cakes, serving 6.
I'd skip the bread crumbs. They dilute the crab meat.
And here's a post about Hoagy Carmichael Jr., who is apparently a great fisherman of the Grand Cascapedia, and who is responsible for the renaissance of the split-bamboo fly rod, at Never Yet Melted.
The photo of Amber is to highlight a fine site for fly fishermen, Bamboo Fly Rod. net. Nope, that site is defunct, but we hope Amber isn't. This site has good info on casting with, and the care of, bamboo rods.
You can die of hypothermia when the temperature is well above freezing, and you will die of hypothermia after a while in 77 degree water. Many interesting facts at Freezing Persons Recollect (h/t, Cons Grapevine). All outdoorsmen should know this stuff. One example:
...many hypothermia victims die each year in the process of being rescued. In "rewarming shock," the constricted capillaries reopen almost all at once, causing a sudden drop in blood pressure. The slightest movement can send a victim's heart muscle into wild spasms of ventricular fibrillation. In 1980, 16 shipwrecked Danish fishermen were hauled to safety after an hour and a half in the frigid North Sea. They then walked across the deck of the rescue ship, stepped below for a hot drink, and dropped dead, all 16 of them.
The strange 
Postal socks! 
The 
I know it's a cheap shot which is beneath Maggie's dignity, but that photo (
When I was a kid, my babysitter would take me fishing for Blue Crabs off the dock. What it required was a string with a hunk of bacon tied to the end. When you gently pulled it up to just below the surface, you needed a crab net to scoop up the crabs clinging to the bacon. Otherwise, they would let go of the bacon.
It's time to think about what fun, expensive, and unnecessary gear we might be wanting to play with this spring.