Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
Saturday mornings, the town pond is shared, even if I get there early.
Two guys in a johnboat were pulling out small bluegill regularly as the meathead and I circled the town pond.
Another guy fished from shore and loudly called across the water.
I am often amused at the town pond, and on other bodies of water, by what you can hear with the sound bouncing off water.
Makes you wonder what fish and near-water critters hear.
For the last week, I have been chumming for a fishing friend. He is after a special fish he spotted in the town pond.
It makes me laugh, but dutifully every morning I spread the bag of ground bait.
Not today. I correctly figured that fishermen would be out just ahead of the arrival of the remnants of Hurricane Isaac. So I didn't bother taking any with me.
Maybe in the middle of the rain I will sneak out and spread it around.
And the big rains are coming.
On radar, the big stuff is just south, very slowly moving here.
The air feels like something out of Florida: 73 degrees already and 100 percent humidity. It feels like walking through swamp water.
Yesterday, we had dozens of Canada geese feeding in left field at the ball park as we neared the town pond.
And a run-over garter snake interested the meathead, but he didn't try to eat it. Which both pleased and surprised me.
And dozens of doves lined the wires.
But this morning. Only one or two doves and zero geese. I have not heard any shooting, so I don't think it is the start of hunting season that impacted them.
Mornings like this I wonder if animals and birds sense the incoming weather and hole up to ride it out.
Sounds like an idea for this human, too.
But at some point, I need to sneak out and dump bait.
Time, it is always time.
Do I have it?
That basic question ties into a thought I have been having.
With the start of meteorological fall, I am tempted to try to do a Ramble with Storm every day.