Troutbirder II

Troutbirder II
Click on Mark Twain to jump to Troutbirders book review blog

Thursday, June 23, 2016

Just a walk around the yard

Come on along!
Fern corner
Columbine
Dames Rocket
Yellow Ladyslippers
Hope you enjoyed....:)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

I Can't Believe It's Fifty......

Well, I guess time flies fast when your having fun!
The Bride and Groom
Our Beloved D.I.L. Deanne who arranged it all. :)
Left: Matron of Honor Bette. Right: friend Kerry.
Best Man, Best Friend Gary and his wife Rosie....:)
 

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

Amazing Tulips

So here's the story. Last April I brought some freshly cut tulips,  from our garden into the house, put them in a vase, got distracted and forgot the water. Some time later I remedied  the error in spite of the badly drooping petals. The next morning Voila! I kind of liked the effect and they stayed this way for several days....:)
Maybe strange is a better word.......

Monday, May 30, 2016

The Gamble

So you might have missed the part about how the current horror of affairs in the Middle East was most recently ignited by an ill-conceived and ill-planned military adventure in Iraq.  Click on Mark Twain above to see Troutbirders take on The Gamble....

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Ode To Troutfishing


I'm going trout fishing in the woods today. Would you like to come along?

These small valley's are carved by spring fed streams. Limestone bluff on one side, hardwood forest on the other. Feel how cold the water is. The trout thrive here.

Insect hatches often come off the riffles. Trout feed on them. But not today. I'll fish the quiet pools and deep edges along the banks. It so quiet here in the woods. I rarely see anyone else. Let's sit on the bank and listen. Sometimes a doe and a fawn can be seen coming down for a drink.  In the spring there are warblers everywhere. Well, the fish weren't biting today. Still, I don't think our time wasn't wasted. Do you?


I must add that I loved my teaching career best but fly fishing was my favorite outlet. People would occasionally as me what the attraction was and I had a hard time putting it into words.  Famous Michigan Judge and fifties novelist Robert Traver (Anatomy of a Murder) said it best.....

“I fish because I love to. Because I love the environs where trout are found, which are invariably beautiful, and hate the environs where crowds of people are found, which are invariably ugly. Because of all the television commercials, cocktail parties, and assorted social posturing I thus escape. Because in a world where most men seem to spend their lives doing what they hate, my fishing is at once an endless source of delight and an act of small rebellion. Because trout do not lie or cheat and cannot be bought or bribed, or impressed by power, but respond only to quietude and humility, and endless patience. Because I suspect that men are going this way for the last time and I for one don't want to waste the trip. Because mercifully there are no telephones on trout waters. Because in the woods I can find solitude without loneliness. ... And finally, not because I regard fishing as being so terribly important, but because I suspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant and not nearly so much fun.”

 

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Home Waters

Troutbirder reminisces about fly fishing for trout, some good rivers here and in Montana.  Click on Mark Twain above for a review of a good anthology on the same subject....:)

Thursday, May 12, 2016

Our Neighbors


It’s late March and I’m on a mission. Actually Mrs. T and I are less than a mile from our home base.  Moving silently I probe the trees with my binoculars looking for clues. Distant crows break the early morning quiet. Have they returned, for the fifth consecutive year I wonder?

There high in the tree overlooking the trout ponds! I move closer but not too close. I do not want to cause any disturbance! My friends, the trout farm eagles have returned. All is well here in Bluff Country

 

Monday, May 9, 2016

A Beautiful Song To Remember


Something made an appearance last week at the Goethite W.M.A. that totally made my day. It was a pair of Meadowlarks. What kind were they? Well, I'm not sure. Mr. Science (Gary my birding mentor) tells me that the Eastern Meadowlark needs singing lessons and the Western sings more sweetly. I will go with that though I had no comparison to hear any difference....


As a child growing up on the East Side of St. Paul, the song of meadowlarks often brightened my day. They lived in a field just across the road from my parents’ home on Johnson Parkway.(Pictured left below)   I often awoke to their beautiful song drifting thru my bedroom window. Today that field is long gone and a nursing home has taken its place, along with miles and miles of suburbs and malls stretching 20 miles to the east, all the way to Wisconsin.
I've thought, more than once in recent years, how long it had been since I heard that lilting song. Decades I think. And last week I heard it again. How sweet it is...