|
Instead of talking about it, let's go fishing. It's mid-July, a bright cloudless day, without a breath of air stirring. Warm, too. Not the best weather for fishing, you say? Say, any day's good when you're fishing. But even so, good weather or bad, there's seldom an hour, day or night, on any lake when big fish aren't feeding somewhere. See that high cliff over there on the south end of the lake with the maidenhair fronds cascading from it? Yup, and listen. There's an ouzel's song. That maidenhair and the bird's song may mean fish. Then, off there to the east, see all those willows? Looks a little boggy from here, doesn't it? Must be some beaver work. Make you a bet that near the other end of the lake you'll find a second boggy area, only it will be choked, full of sunken logs and broken stumps. And now that we've climbed and gotten some elevation, see how the lake narrows and then opens up into a second arm? And there, almost directly across from the cliff, there's a meadow. The land flattens out and just as one might suspect, along the water's edge are bulrushes. In the lazy, warm sunshine, some blue darning needles dip down over the water in their swift flight. Except for them, the lake lies motionless. And fishless? Well, hold on, just a minute.
|
