Realizing just how quiet and away from it all Fish in a Barrel Pond really is.
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One Week Later …
With more heavy rain in the forecast, Vermonters are PISSED (Post Irene Severe Storm Emotional Disorder). Rivers, lakes and streams are up again and people are a little jittery.
I didn’t make up that line about PISSED. I got it from the local band Gypsy Reel, who were kind enough to put on a free concert last evening, giving some of us much needed relief from what we are still dealing with. Many thanks to everyone who is doing what they can to help get through this.
From an earlier gig, Gypsy Reel (Graham Parker, Mark Harding, Camille Parker and Claudine Langille):
After Irene
(More video and some photos later. Maybe. Now is not the time for that and there is plenty of footage available on YouTube and other places.)
There was nothing to do this week but grab the chainsaw, shovels and rakes, and head to the center of our little village and get to work. Some said to wait for the folks from the State, or FEMA, to arrive but the overriding sentiment was to wait for nothing and do it ourselves. Without power, phones or roads, no one knew for sure what was going on in other places but there was a mess to clean up and neighbors to help.
The contents of homes and business were disgorged and piled outside to dry and be sorted. Entire lives and households at the roadside, mangled and muddy, exposed for all to see. Generations of accumulation, treasure become trash.
Inventories and equipment spread out in the sun to be salvaged or tossed, insurance adjusters be damned; hugs and tears exchanged as thick, sticky mud dried to dust the consistency of corn starch. Devastated neighbors helped devastated neighbors, and will continue to help long after the news cycle has moved on and the satellite trucks have a new disaster to cover, somewhere else.
Bridges are gone. Roads are gone. Homes are gone. Dumpsters, porta-potties, propane tanks and the contents of entire buildings swept away in the deluge. Lives changed forever but not ended; invisible scars that may never completely heal.
A steady stream of people from other places has come through the village this week, slowing down to stare at the dirty, dusty, muddy villagers who stumbled around like zombies, putting the shattered pieces back together and each day there has been less at which to stare.
The village green is green again, cleared of debris and freshly mowed. Lights shine from windows and last night the show went on at the Playhouse. Banks of gravel, sand and silt have been swept from the main street and “Open” signs have begun to reappear. People are sharing what they have left with those who have none, downed trees have been cleared and now they go to work further from home, assisting others because that’s what you do.
It will be a long time before things get back to “normal,” whatever that is, but it will happen. Fall is in the air and the leaves on the trees (the ones that are left) have begun to turn. Leaf peepers and rubber neckers will gawk, just like they do every year, and if you happen to find yourself up this way (in spite of all the detours) you may be tempted in spots to say to yourself, “It looks like nothing happened here.”
That’s because a lot of people worked very hard to get it that way.
“Vermont is a state I love. I could not look upon the peaks of Ascutney, Killington, Mansfield,
and Equinox without being moved in a way that no other scene could move me.
It was here that I first saw the light of day; here that I received my bride;
here my dead lie, pillowed on the loving breast of our everlasting hills.
I love Vermont because of her hills and valleys, her scenery and invigorating climate,
but most of all because of her indomitable people. They are a race of pioneers who have almost
beggared themselves to serve others. If the spirit of liberty should vanish in other parts of the union and support of our institutions should languish, it could all be replenished from the
generous store held by the people of this brave little state of Vermont.”
Calvin Coolidge, after the flood of 1927
(It would be inappropriate to not mention that the crews responsible for restoring power to our village drove all the way from Ontario, Canada, to do so. To them, and the crews from all across the country who came to help — along with National Guard troops from several states — there is nothing to say but “Thank you”.)
A Brief, Tropical Interlude
For being the season of hope and renewal, spring can be surprisingly grim.
Grim enough, even, to cause a severe flare-up of a latent case of the shack nasties, treatable only by a quick trip south. Less than a couple of hours from the dirty, glacier-like crust back home, Mrs. Gordon and I were both pleasantly surprised to find ourselves in tropical warmth, surrounded by thousands of colorful butterflies at Magic Wings Butterfly Conservatory and Gardens in South Deerfield, Massachusetts.
Knock it off. If a butterfly doesn’t make you smile, there is something seriously disconnected and wrong with you. Continue reading
Categories: +Uncategorized
Tags: butterflies, ghoti62, magic wings, nature, quill gordon, spring
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“The Kind of Surprise I Like” or, “A Package for Quill”
My recent post “On Thin Ice” was my submission to a writing contest sponsored by the good folks at Outdoor Blogger Network and Sportsman Channel. The theme of the contest was “Winter Travel” and the winner was Mark Dillow with his fine entry “Frozen in Time”. Congratulations, Mark!
My friend Owl Jones received special attention for his entry “Winter Scouting on Murphy’s Mountain”. I still laugh just thinking about it. To quote the judges regarding Owl’s literary contribution, “… this story is crazy!” Nicely done, Owl. You may have a cookie now.
My entry was noticed for its creativity and the contrast between the fantasy image of living on an island compared to the stark reality thereof. In recognition, I was promised a “special surprise” and it arrived, via UPS, yesterday afternoon.
One thing I learned while surviving the events that inspired “On Thin Ice” — other than the fact that, when people walk by me holding one of those tropical drinks with the little umbrellas, it’s a struggle to not slap it out of their hand — was to not take living on or at least near a real road for granted, even if that road is presently a long series of frozen, twisted ruts.
It’s taking a toll, all this violent lurching and banging around. Tie rods, ball joints and headlights get broken and knocked askew and I’m considering a helmet and mouthpiece for myself if we don’t get some good snow to pack down and even things out. All four of my cheap hub caps are badly cracked (only three actually remain on the vehicle) and even the UPS guy is bombing around with a broken leaf spring. I could hear him a mile away as he clattered his way up the hill. The ruckus he raised when he pulled into the dooryard scattered cats and shook the knick-knack shelf but that’s okay because as I stood on the porch waving good-bye I remembered a time when I had to wait seven weeks and cross a mile and a half of ice just to get to the Post Office.
If there’s one thing I like more than getting packages it is opening them and this one was full of surprises. To start with, there was a very nice note from Michelle Scheuermann, Director of Communications for Sportsman Channel. She wrote the note by hand and even used her very best, fancy stationery!
Next was a most thoughtful gift. Many of my Vermont friends would call it a strip of “fender patch” or “muffler fix”. I once saw an entire car seemingly held together with this stuff (please see “Fishing Hurts”) and I think it might be the ticket for joining two pieces of broken hub cap but, with history as my guide, I’d hate for my last glimpse of it to be in the rear-view mirror as it sailed off the downhill side of Rte. 155. No, I think the best place for it is here, on the wall, where I can gaze upon it in at leisure and in comfort.
But wait, there’s more! A T-shirt promoting Sportsman Channel and Sportsmen Against Hunger. “HUNT FISH FEED” it reads, encouraging utilization of our natural food resources. I think it’s a great idea and I’m all for it. The shirt is size L, which was me an X or two ago, so it looks like Mrs. Gordon is getting a new nightie for Christmas! Of course, I could give it to my friend, Eugene, who often finds a change of clothes to be in order (please see “Careful With That Axe, Eugene”).
Beneath the nice note, the fender patch and Mrs. Gordon’s new nightie was a hat, and not just any hat, either. This hat has the Sportsman Channel logo embroidered on the front, is adjustable and extra spiffy. When I wear it to town the guys will ask “Is that a new hat, Quill?” and I will answer “Yes. Yes it is” and they will say ” ‘Bout darn time!” Not only that, the hat is black and will absorb solar radiation, keeping my brain warm when I go around the corner of the barn to sit in the sun, out of the wind.
The last item in the box made me wonder how they knew I like a hot beverage when I go around the corner of the barn to sit in the sun, out of the wind. My new Sportsman Channel insulated mug will be with me and if I decide to take that beverage somewhere with me in the truck, I don’t know how they guessed the size, but my new mug fits perfectly into the holder I already have! Now I can just set my mug down instead of holding it in my lap or saying to my passenger, “Here, hold my drink and watch this!”
Many thanks to Michelle Scheuermann at Sportsman Channel for the chance to write for goodies and to Joe and Rebecca for everything they are doing with Outdoor Blogger Network.
And now, here is a fishing story you might enjoy: “The Buddy System”
Categories: +Uncategorized
Tags: ghoti62, outdoor blogger network, quill gordon, sportsman channel, Vermont
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I Think I Know How They Feel
The way they swim is the way I feel some days, covering miles and miles without getting anywhere at all.
Whirligig beetles are in the Family Gyrinidae. This group has been in the same spot for several days, next to a dock, swimming like crazy but never moving more than a couple of feet away. I can relate.
There are couple of important differences between whirligig beetles and Quill Gordon, though, besides the obvious. Whirligig beetles have two sets of eyes, one above the water surface and one below, allowing them to watch for enemies and prey in most any direction. The eyes are compound eyes and I imagine the final image must be pretty confusing, which might explain why they swim the way they do.
The other difference? When handled roughly, Quill Gordon does not smell like pineapples.
Categories: +Uncategorized, Humor, nature
Tags: nature, pond life, water beetles, whirligig beetles
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Shaving is for the Birds
There always seems to be confusion surrounding the transition to spring. Six inches of snow on Wednesday gives way to sunshine and shirt sleeves on Saturday, while yesterday’s hard frost is this morning’s heavy dew, but there is more to the muddling than getting head-faked by the weather. We know the weather will straighten itself out and that the sledding will be poor for a few months but it takes some getting used to, this change of season.
No longer is my bright orange hat my most distinguishing feature and people who point must now find something else about me that merits the attention of others. Even my friend Eugene is hard to spot right off, now that he has shed his filthy, greasy, winter hooded sweatshirt. The winter outfits are gone and our points of reference for each other have changed but not only in the clothing department; blank stares change to smiles of recognition as we point at each other and laugh, exclaiming, “You shaved!”
I would like to make it very clear that the above reaction is reserved for the men in our little village. No one speaks to the women that way. It just wouldn’t be polite.
The annual ritual of shaving off the winter beard is an individual thing, performed in private. It would be more than just a bit creepy to make it a community thing (although I wouldn’t put it past someone to try to make an annual fund-raising event of it) but doing it at home allows one to ease into the new reality. The teasing from family members prepares one for the teasing from one’s peers and the familiar surroundings make it that much easier to convince the dog a stranger has not moved in. No matter where or how the shaving is done, though, I imagine that, cumulatively, a tremendous amount of beard hair is removed each spring and it would make an impressive pile if it were all in one place. Thankfully, it is not.
I don’t have the foggiest notion of what happens to all that beard hair and, quite frankly, I don’t want to know but I can show and tell you what happens to at least some of it.
Contrary to what some might have you believe, Quill Gordon has never had any creature of any kind actually nest in his beard. He has, however, managed to get his beard into a few nests.
I would like everyone to notice that those whiskers are not all completely gray.
Nesting season has begun.
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A Post Card from Quill
It’s that awkward, in-between time when the calendar says “spring” but the weather ain’t so sure. The transition is easier some years than others (see “Driven to Distraction“) but no matter how politely winter bows out, she’s bound to throw in some kind of cheap parting shot that makes you glad the long-johns are still handy. The temperature at 6:00 a.m. this morning was 4F here at Fish in a Barrel Pond.
So, how has old Quill been whiling away the time as he waits for spring? Continue reading
I’m Thankful For …
… being able to live and work in such a lovely place.
… for Ospreys.
… for Lupine, Daylilies and Iris.
… for Brook Trout.
… for Fall, even though it means winter is coming,
and even for Winter because I know it’s going to end.
… for my seven loyal readers and the fact that I have anything at all to be thankful for. That’s plenty.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
Time for a Nap
The season is over, here at Fish in a Barrel Pond. At times I thought it would never end and, in some ways, I didn’t want it to end but cold weather is coming and it is time to change gears. Cottages full of people and boats dotting the pond are giving way to chainsaws and skidders in the woods and this part of Vermont belongs once again to the locals. A couple of guys who live nearby might come over on exceptionally nice days, to fish from the dock but, with the cottages shut down and all the boats pulled from the water, we are effectively closed for business.
40 degree air, 40 degree water
The end of the season means Performance Review time for old Quill and, while I had no reasons (that I could think of) to worry, I’m never sure just what to expect from the members of the Neverwas Nonesuch Angling Society. They can be a fickle bunch and I have to watch myself to be sure I am seen as neutral and not aligned with some faction or another.
Currently, the membership seems to be divided into three groups – Group 1 refers to Group 2 as “certain members”, Group 2 refers to Group 1 as “those people” and Group 3 thinks both Groups 1 & 2 are insane and should spend a lot more time on the water. It is a fine line I walk as I convince them that I love them all and want them all to be happy and that things would go a lot smoother around here if they would leave me the heck out of their petty bickering, festering feuds and personal agendas. Someone needs to be here to open the gates next April and I would prefer it to be me.
I like my job and I believe that most of the members of the Neverwas Nonesuch Angling Society like me. Or, if they don’t like me, they at least feel I am competent and qualified for the job but with some people there’s just no telling. At least not until the results of the biennial Survey of the Membership come out.
Covering a wide range of issues, this survey is a way for members to spout off and express their opinions on everything from dues, the board of directors and the quality of the fishing to forestry management plans, cottage remodeling and the way I do my job. Seventy nine of the 100 members responded to this year’s survey and the bottom line is that 75 of them were “satisfied” or “very satisfied” with the current state of affairs. Four of them were “very dissatisfied” and, as you might expect, it is not difficult to figure out who those four are.
A few excerpts from the Comments section of the survey, as they pertain to me:
“Quill Gordon’s keen observations of weather, water conditions and insect activity are invaluable to anyone wanting to catch fish from our pond. When I come up for a weekend I don’t have the time to try 50 flies in 100 places to get a fish but I know that if Quill tells me to skate an elk-hair caddis off the point above Green Damselfly Cove that that’s what I should do. He puts me onto fish every time! It was a great season.” -R.B., Boston
“Quill Gordon thinks he’s so smart, suggesting what flies I should use and where. I’ve been fishing the same way for 30 years and I have no intention of changing! This was the worst year of fishing I can remember.” -C.G., Pittsburgh
“Quill Gordon is fair and honest in all his dealings with the membership of our little club. He is forthright and up front and you always know just where he stands. No funny business or messing around, just the truth and an honest effort to understand.” -R.R., Houston
“Quill Gordon is a dick.” -C.G., Pittsburgh
All things considered, I think it was a good season and have agreed, in principle, to another two-year stint as caretaker for the Neverwas Nonesuch Angling Society here at Fish in a Barrel Pond. The board of directors and I will meet soon to finish the details in my contract and, as long as C.G. from Pittsburgh stays off the board, I think I’m okay.
Time for a nap.
October, 2008
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The View from Fish in a Barrel Pond 