Fish on!

Maybe it was two years ago that I had the idea to do some fishing again. I hadn’t been fishing in quite a while, and so I planned a little trip to Putah Creek. But now it looked like a dumb idea; the sky is overcast and threatening to rain. I head out anyway. I don’t even know what I’m going to fish with; I’m bringing a spinning outfit and a fly rod.

I arrive at my destination and the weather is no better; in fact the clouds appear even darker. None-the-less I attack  the water with my spinning rod; I’m using a Mepps #2. No luck! Over and over again I cast, but still nothing. The water seems to be a bit murky. Then I remember a successful fishing trip to the Walker river with my friend Sarge. There he introduced me to the technique of “dead drift nymph” fishing. I switch to my fly rod and tie on a nymph ( probably tied by Sarge ).

I cast upstream and let it sink, drifting downstream naturally in the current. I see hesitation in the floating line and pull the rod up smartly. Fish on! After a good fight I managed to net him; a beautiful rainbow trout! And now the sun is coming out. and I’m feeling much better about the day.

I saw three mergansers swimming rapidly downstream in the creek the other day. In fact they were moving so fast that I only managed to snap a photo of  one. They were diving and popping up unexpectedly downstream. It looked like the fishing was pretty good!

 The common merganser in a large diving duck, with a long bill for catching fish. Apparently this is a wintering area for them.

dining in San Francisco

From time to time I like to review what’s going on in the world of wildlife news.  Today I read that the leaf cutter ants have escaped from their high-tech enclosure at San Francisco’s California Academy of Sciences.  It had taken three years and countless hours to rebuild, but just months for the leaf cutters to engineer their escape.

And that wasn’t the only incident;  apparently the giant octopus had been sneaking into the crab enclosure in the evenings.  Then, under cover of darkness, he had been dining on the tasty crustaceans.

I’ve been informed that security has since been tightened.

On several of these excursions I would come upon these giant ant hills. They were upwards of three foot tall or more! They seemed to be mostly composed of pine needles, and they were swarming with activity. Around the perimeter of the hill there was a small trench, lightly filled with leaves, twigs, and more pine needles. It seemed to be constructed so that if some unfortunate small animal came too close it would fall into the trap. At which time the creature would be instantly covered by the ants, and stung into submission. It was kind of shocking how quickly this would take place. In some places there were several of these hills in the same area.

I couldn’t help but imagining the macabre image of someone stumbling on to one of these on a foggy day. One could lose their footing and fall; whereupon the hapless victim would be quickly enveloped, and perhaps paralyzed by this horde of tiny hunters. Fortunately, I never heard of any such occurance. But I always made it a point to do my exploring on a bright and sunny day.

commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Ant_hill by Guido Guerding

 But, Surprise! There is “another” who is out, and taking advantage of the traffic freedom. It’s the dreaded paper carrier, with his sudden appearances, and unpredictable moves. Who can comprehend the torturous mental aberrations that it took to plan his route. There he is; he turns left just ahead of me. Ah, I’m safe. But no! In no time at all he’s speeding down an alley towards me. I race ahead to get out of his way, hopelessly trying to predict his next appearance. Then, finally, I make it home safely, and pick up the paper which has been delivered in the interim.

I was out one spring day on a collecting expedition, and on that day it seemed that all butterflies were rare specimens. But then… What was that?!!! There it was, fluttering on a branch, with it’s huge dark reddish-purple wings flashing gold on it’s outer edges. I ran towards it, and made an awkward swing with my net. No! I missed it! He flew off, but then landed not far away. Supercharged with adrenaline, I attempted a stealthy approach. I swung with a broad, smooth movement, and this time the prize was mine.

It seems strange, but I have no memory of what ever became of that collection. I have only a book of color plates of butterflies from the university that my father had gotten for me.