Maggie's Farm

The WSJ has the old-timey story of the Southside Sportsmen's Club in the 1880s, and Long Island's fishing secret - the Connetquot River, which holds large sea-run (and hatchery) trout.

I am fortunate to have fished that stream. (Reservations required, and barbless hooks, which I prefer anyway for all fishing purposes.) 

Henninger's piece Where Big Fish Caught Big Trout, begins thus:

Assume you are a wage slave in New York City. As respite, you favor the joys of fishing streams for large trout. You have a couple of choices. Travel 2,206 miles to the banks of the Madison River in Montana, or thereabouts. Plan B: Early on a weekday morning, load your car with a flyrod, stream waders and a box of flies, drive some 57 miles out of New York City on the old Southern State Parkway into Long Island, turn in at Connetquot State Park, in Oakdale, walk to your reserved "beat" on the Connetquot River, fat with rainbows, brookies and browns. Oh, and there's a bonus: You will have arrived at the living heart of the politics and history of the Empire State.

Read the whole thing (link above).

Photo above: A big Brown we caught on the Connetquot last September. Below, my photo of my beat on the stream that day.

Ducks in the AM, Ruffed Grouse in the woods or Sharptails on the prairie after lunch, then ducks again in the evening. Then it's cocktail hour. A very fine trip, if the weather is nasty and the ducks are flying. But, of course, if the weather is nasty it doesn't work for grouse. I prefer the grouse, in a way, because sitting fatigues me. The lodge:

The dock in the lodge's front yard:

Time to pull in the decoys and head the boat back to the barn.

Opie sent us this one:

A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it occurred to him that he was dead.

He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them. After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.

When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.

When he was close enough, he called out, "Excuse me, where are we?"
"This is Heaven, sir," the man answered.
"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.
"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up."

The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

"Can my friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?" the traveler asked.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets."

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and
continued the way he had been going with his dog. After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence.

As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

"Excuse me!" he called to the man. "Do you have any water?"
"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in."
"How about my friend here?" the traveler gestured to the dog.
"There should be a bowl by the pump."

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.

"What do you call this place?" the traveler asked.
"This is Heaven," he answered.
"Well, that's confusing," the traveler said. "The man down the road said that was Heaven, too."
"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's hell."
"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"

"No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind."

Spent the afternoon fishing on Long Island Sound with Maggie's Farm contributor Gwynnie. We managed to boat (and release) just one schoolie Striper - but we were using lures, not bait. There were large schools of Snapper Blues flipping around, but we were looking for dinner. We much admired the master fisherman below (the story of the return of our New England Ospreys is close to a miracle), who was using a nesting platform as a dining room table for his or her sushi:

Some buddies were fishing in Ontario last week, mainly for Small-Mouth Bass, which I did not know was a Canadian fish.

They fished out of Lake Herridge Lodge, about 5 1/2 hours north of Toronto, which they liked very much. There is a chain of five large lakes, with portages or channels between. The largest is about 5 miles long and a mile wide. 

Texas guide for a dove shoot: "Hey fellas, let's shoot some of them crows for warm-up practice."

Sport: "Sure, why not?"

The guide calls the crows into range and the sports shoot some crows.

Guide: "OK, I'll just go pick up them crows to take home, and we'll go find them doves."

Sport: "Pick them up? What for?"

Guide: "To cook 'em."

Sport: "Eat a crow? What do they taste like?"

Guide: "Well... tastes kinda like owl."

I don't know whether The Barrister actually wants to carry, or to keep a gun in his glove compartment - or whether he simply wants the permit because it is his right to do so. I asked a friend for advice for The B.

Dear Barrister,

If you do intend to carry after you get your CCP, the most important issues are physical comfort, comfort with the use of the handgun, and stopping power. To carry a gun which is not second nature to use could get you into more trouble than you want.

There is no "right" pistol to carry. Try lots of them, over time, at the range, and find what suits you best - and what fits under your jackets without scaring the neighbors!

Here is a good introductory article on the subject. Pictured is the revolver I carry, when I do carry, which is not all of the time. Colt Python, now out of production. It's a .357 magnum, and I have the 4" barrel. Fortunately for the bad guys, I have never needed to fire it outside of the range, and I hope I never will.

Have fun.

JBH

One of our readers prefers the Springfield Armory's XD. I wonder what other handguns our readers like to carry.

h/t, Classical Values

Thanks for the photos, John - but this is not what I would call roughin' it.

 More photos of the vehicle on continuation page below -

New guidelines on increasing the survival rates of released fish.

I would think that the suggestions would apply to trout.

Played hookie from work today with a couple of Maggie's Farmers and friends. It's getting late in the spring season here for trout. This is our ultra-secret ultra private trout stream in CT.

The old story is you tell the wife that you're taking the day off to do some things with friends. She asks, slightly annoyed by the irresponsibility, what you're doing. You reply, "Well, we're going over to the Indian casino, and I hope you don't mind our acting foolish once in a while." She says "OK, I do not approve, but have fun and don't come home drunk." Then you sneak off and do what you really want - trout fishing.

Why are my photos today blue-tinged and out of focus? I need to get this camera fixed.