Each spring and fall,
millions upon millions of birds fly from or to their breeding grounds
(depending upon the season, and the hemisphere) to or from their wintering
grounds. Most of you know this, and you
know it as migration. What you may not
know is that prior to these migrations, they get restless. This “migratory restlessness” was called
zugunruhe by the German behavioral biologists who first described it. You can actually measure this through an
ingeniously simply device called an Emlen funnel. The Emlen funnel is just a
funnel, lined with paper, and containing an ink pad at the bottom. A bird placed in this funnel will jump,
repeatedly, in the direction it desires to fly. Clever experiments using Emlen
funnels and artificial lights were what proved that birds can navigate using
not only a time-compensated “sun compass”, but also the stars of the night sky.
I’ll be moving soon, and I
guess I’m experiencing my own bit of zugunruhe.
I’ll be leaving the Buckeye State in just a few weeks, to relocate to
the Hoosier State. (English Jonny thinks I’m moving to India, which is not
surprising given the appalling geographical illiteracy of those from England,
Great Britain, and the United Kingdoms.
He also thinks India is still a British colony.) I’m busy packing and while I haven’t found
myself jumping repeatedly towards the west, I’ve disabled my account on the
Ohio fishing forum and have started to map driving distances from my soon-to-be
Indiana address to local fly shops and carp flats.
The move is necessary
because, as it transpires, unemployment does not pay the bills. And I’m excited about the move for a variety
of reasons. But it is bittersweet
because it likely means that my saltwater fishing opportunities are going to be
very limited for the foreseeable future.
I didn’t have any here in Ohio, of course, but I came here knowing it
was temporary. What I didn’t know was
whether the next move would put me closer to or farther from the ocean; now I
know.
I’ll miss the stripers
most of all. I love bluefish as well,
but stripers – and by this I mean the real ocean-going stripers – well, they’re
something special. They’re handsome,
sometimes very big, and always enigmatic.
There’s a culture surrounding the striped bass that’s something worth experiencing. When I was fishing for them several times a
week, I would arrive each Tuesday and Thursday morning at about 3:30 am to fish
the same spot, during the herring run, with Augie. We’d fish until just after sun
up, and then because I, unlike Augie, had a job, I’d head off to work. By 2:00
pm I was so exhausted I was worthless at work, and it’s probably not
unreasonable to suggest that I largely squandered the opportunities at work
during that period. Usually we fished this spot alone, but sometimes we’d see
old One-Eyed Jack, Jimmy, or Jimmy the Plumber.
Jimmy the Plumber was a plumber, but I think Jimmy was unemployed. Jack had only one eye and always wore bright
yellow boots. That’s how we knew it was
him, because you really couldn’t see how many eyes he had from across the
river, particularly in the dark. When,
one morning, I arrived simultaneously in our spot with another fishing buddy,
Augie accused me of giving away the spot and never spoke to me again. Stripers do that to people.
It’s hard for me to come
to grips with the possibility that stripers will not be a major part of my life
for the foreseeable future. I can’t
really put it into words, so instead I asked the late Waylon Jennings to record
a song for me. This particular song was
just one of many gems on his fabulous 1975 album “Dreaming my Dreams”, most of
which was recorded for me and the stripers.
This particular song, like most, contains many metaphors that may be
lost on the casual Culvert reader, so in addition to linking some audio, I’ve
provided the lyrics below, with annotations.
"The Door is Always Open"
Verse 1:
Saw your picture in the
paper (1) and I see you married good (2)
And I know that he (3) can
give you all the things I never could (4)
But I know that he can't
give you what you need most of all (5)
So the door is always
open, and the light's on in the hall (6)
Chorus:
Yes the door is always
open and the light's on in the hall
And you know that I'll be
waiting, if you ever come to call
Verse 2:
When night falls (7) on
that mansion (8) and you're lying in his bed (9)
When he begs you for
attention (10), will you think of me instead?
When he reaches out to
touch you (11), is your face turned to the wall? (12)
Well the door is always
open, and the light's on in the hall
Chorus (x2).
1) "Fly Rod & Reel" magazine, et al.
2) You’re still large, with
stripes
3) English Jonny
4) shrimp flies
5) an 11 inch, black snake
fly
6) I’d like to catch you
again
7) a good new moon tide, preferably
8) the Culvert
9) yellow kayak
10) dead drift
11) sets the hook
12) or jetty
