And when, on the still cold nights, he pointed his nose at a star and howled long and wolf-like, it was his ancestors, dead and dust, pointing nose at star and howling down through the centuries and through him. And his cadences were their cadences, the cadences which voiced their woe and what to them was the meaning of the stillness, and the cold, and dark. - J. L.
We've had a hell of an October thus far; nice close to September too. There can never be enough crescent moon; never enough falling away of the city blocks in the wake of the crescent moon. How can one look at the sky at night and then on the following day plod into the indoors and take up the keyboard? How can the falling walnuts and the senescing tomato plants be pushed aside by one rushing to the screen; the calling screen? If all was right would one not take up the paddle and start off in any direction? Yes; clearly yes. But due to various middle men, to various mores, one must rack the paddle and take up the keyboard despite the call of the wild; call for blood; call for hooks in lips and arrows that might pierce fur and hide and scale in pursuit of meat; slugs and sabots that are meant to kill and maim in the name of acquisition of protein. Free protein falls from trees and swims in rivers; needs only be gathered by those who would dirty their hands. It is not shameful to walk with hands dyed in the black blood of walnuts; wear shirts spattered with the blood of fish. The mission is protein; it is around, to be gathered. It is not the case that it must be bought; using middle men and acquisitions of various sorts. Ducks can be chased with pellets propelled; squirrels, the gray rats of the woods, can be exploded by bullets and made to soup. Fall, October, all these things call. One need only to sort out the various angles and opportunities and make the best; take the best; eat in the weather of soup, harvested gourds and dark beer. The grass withdraws; the leaves are abandoned as trees determine inefficiency. In Old France they set up for hibernation; the clans closed in on themselves and waited it out. Here we push through but in the end, we cannot ignore; the call of the moon; the wild; will always win even if ignored; we are still humans which are animals; the call of the wild pulls; even pulls those who are generally disassociated with the ways of the wood and the ways of killing; the ways of taking meat. Even the meanderers - they know what they ought to do; and they go to work, walk the streets, sour, and diagnosed with an acronym because they know what they ought to do but they do not do it. Proclaim civilization; proclaim modernity but the domesticated generations [fall away]. In vague ways [you] remember back to the youth of the breed, to the time the wild dogs ranged in packs through the primeval forest and killed their meat as they ran it down. Fuck sake, bring us back!
|Oh how I wish to catch a fish, so juicy SWEET! Fall trout. Cannot be approached by standard means, those being tandem nymph rigs, streamers, even dry flies. Must be coaxed. |
|Last trout of 2013 season. Wilted Spinach, copyright John Montana.|
|Fishing HI, swinging downstream.|
|Filter feeding carp. Just a fuck of a tough deal here. Some big fish in there, including my only remaining 20 lb fish needed: that of my own local Miss River Basin. I could see her in there, looking like two fish. Damn it. These carp would spook at any presentation I could muster. I gave them 2.5 hours; no takes. Later, after consultation and fly examination, I approached again, but wind prevented any further opportunity. Not to be.|
|Fishing the edges of the filter feeders produced this one eater on the day. Smallish fish, by carp standards.|
|Possibly last carp outing of 2013. Not sure yet. Went 2-5, which is decent really. Not great. One of the misses was due to this poacher.|
|One of a pair of smallish carp caught last week on soft hackle. Low light conditions, 100% cloud cover. Where is the smallest carp contest when a guy needs it?|
|Abstract: carp, barbel, wine soft hackle.|
|Aphanizomenon colonies visible.|
|More and more appreciating the low-light carping opportunities out there. All depends on one's perspective. If you are wading, low light is not your scenario. But if you can get up (e.g. on a high bank) and peer down into the water... you can get after these fish. And they work with more abandon in the gray; they will come to shallow water; they will mouth the pond-bottom and bid you little attention when the sun is hidden. It is a worth a look.|