Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
I'll admit the title is a hook to catch your interest. But follow along, there is some logic involved.
Because the kids are back in school, the meathead and I are setting out again in the dark. That partially explains why I am seeing very little wildlife.
This morning it was only the cackling of Canada geese in the lake to the west. I imagine the hole they kept open during the freeze-up will be virtually the entire lake by the end of the week.
Such is the nature of this winter, once again.
The last patches are snow are nearly gone.
As Storm and I turned from the fringes of the extended ramble, I saw the ice had changed color overnight, trending toward the grayness I don't like.
But a pickup truck was parked at the bridge over the neckdown between the two old clay pits. And a really good fishermen I know and his bud were drilling holes on the south pit.
He said they had just started and hadn't caught anything. He said they only caught one on a tip-up on Saturday. I told him we had blanked in the three areas we tried on Sunday.
We both agreed today was the end of the ice fishing at least until colder weather is supposed to return on Sunday. And then it might depend if the ice holds together at all.
Back in town, the reason why came obvious.
I heard a whining engine behind me and thought somebody was running a quad.
But when I turned to look it was a guy my age (in other words old enough to know better) on a bike slightly larger than a dirt bike.
He had on a leather jacket and a hood coat, but the hood was down and he was motoring along with only a heavy cap for head cover.
It is that kind of January, even if the motorcyclist was stretching it.