AND STUFF
When I lived on the plains and later in the mountains I used to occasionally fish and hunt.
From lakes and streams I would gather splendidly fresh perch, northern pike, walleye pike, and rainbow and brown trout. On occasion we would have so many fillets some would go fresh to frozen the very day caught. I’m not a huge fish eater, but there is something very special about catching, cleaning, and serving fish you know was in pristine water earlier in the day.
Many days while fly fishing for trout in Silver Creek we would reel in a trout and then carefully remove the fly and return the fish to the stream none-the-worse from the battle. The fun of the catch was enough on many days.
I totally get fly fishing. Finding the perfect spot in the stream and waiting for a bug hatch or swarm so I could gently lay my fly into feeding area. Fly fishing is delicate and tranquil work.
And then there is bird hunting. There’s nothing more exciting than walking the open fields and hills for sage hen, or down the rows of harvested corn for pheasant, always at the ready for a bird to take flight.
And then there is Cadillac hunting where before dawn we would take position sitting in the reeds along a pond and wait for the sun to rise and mallard ducks to pass over as they fly in or out of our pond. Duck hunting, a lovely mix of tranquility, shotgun fire, and the smell of reeds and gunpowder.
Now I live with the ocean to my left and 11,000,000 people to my right. One does not just drive 20 minutes into the country and start hunting, and I just haven’t gotten into blue water fishing yet. But, man do I love it when my friend comes home with fresh lobster or yellow tail after one of his ocean adventures.
Where was I going with this? Nowhere in particular, just some happy ramblings. Seemed like a good idea.
Good Eating and Table Talk,
Roger Scouton
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