Who cooks for you?

Ben and I successfully failed to catch trout again.  Even with the discharge pumping out shad, we couldn't connect.

Ben stares down his fly box.

Try a shad pattern?

We watched Todd catch three.  He's been fishing this water for a decade. 

Todd knows.

Brayshaw the Younger got a new bow, so I dug mine and dad's out of the closet too.

Shooting Dad's old bow, an early 1960s Bear Kodiak Magnum, 45 lb pull.

The old Bear, and my 20 year old Damon Howatt Mamba (55 lb pull). My shoulder aches.

Not bad, if you consider it's been twenty years.

The snow came today, and I took another walk.  

I found a barred owl. What was particularly satisfying about this bird was that I had gone to that particular part of the park precisely because I thought there was a chance I’d find one, or maybe a hawk.  The trees are larger but there’s enough open space to see a distance.  My father called to tell me he was coming home from the hospital this afternoon, and while chatting with him I was staring off into the distance and saw the owl’s silhouette.  Some hikers scared it but I watched where it went, and when I got off the phone I changed lenses and slowly walked into that area until I saw it.  I followed it as it moved from tree to tree and took about 20 photos before I finally moved on. It doesn’t happen like that often, by which I mean you devise a plan in your head beforehand, and then what you think could happen actually does.  It’s sort of like looking at a map of a stream, and then devising the entire plan about what kind of big fish will be where, what it will be feeding on, and when you get there it is.  And you even have time to tie on the right fly while the fish waits.

The barred owl calls "Who cooks for you?  Who cooks for you all?"

Make no mistake though: I want to see green leaves, yellow birds, and white bass.  I'm just biding my time.