Posts Tagged With: quill gordon

Flashback Friday: Food for Thought

Dining Out

Dining Out, 1950s Style

It used to be that a fire, a rock, and maybe a screwdriver, were all the implements an outdoorsy person needed to prepare dinner or a tasty snack. Some minimalists didn’t even bring a screwdriver, using old nails or even more rocks to open containers. Today’s outdoors folk, however, are a different breed with different needs. Some require ovens, pans, zesters, and appropriate stemware. Some prefer their meat refrigerated and their melons balled, and more than a few of them would never dream of sitting outdoors, in the dirt and among the bugs to consume their culinary creations.

These days at Fish in a Barrel Pond, we provide manual can openers and corkscrews and even electric mixers (good luck finding the beaters), but some showoffs well-outfitted anglers arrive with their own spiral slicers, immersion blenders, infusers and ramekins. A few have even learned to bring their own stemware, but that is not to say things were especially primitive back in the old days, as shown by this ad that appeared in the March, 1964, issue of Outdoor Life magazine:

Martini Tester

Martini Tester

Extra dry or regular, the perfect martini was sure to be the perfect complement for everyone’s favorite snack, advertised in bulk, in the pages of Field & Stream, June, 1963:

A Big Panful of Jerky

A Big Panful of Jerky

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Categories: Flashback Fridays, Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

The Cremation of MMXIII

(To the delight of some and the consternation of others, this is not Part II of our tribute to Forgotten Fly Fishing Legend Little Dickie Conroy. That particular dispatch will appear shortly, just as soon as our top-notch research staff has finished making stuff up reviewing source materials.)

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A symbolic bonfire is an appropriate and sometimes exciting way to bid farewell and good riddance to the old year. It can also extend a warm welcome to the new year and serve to celebrate the gradual lengthening of days in the midst of a long winter slog. A spontaneous attempt was made to light such a fire three weeks ago, using a very large pile of brush, which was crusted with ice and covered in snow. Despite the use of various accelerants, the effort had to be abandoned and, while someone might have had a good chuckle at the time, someone else came out of the deal with nothing more to show than some ironic burn-holes in his raincoat and a hat that smelled like diesel fuel.

Symbolic, perhaps, but not what we would consider appropriate.

Several attempts since have yielded similar results but we’re sure to get a good one going sooner or later to serve as the symbolic cremation of MMXIII. In the meantime, here is a photo of a fire from a previous post, “The Cremation of MMX” (rest assured that the surprised-looking man in the foreground had no hair to begin with and was just fine):

Quill Gordon Shows How It's Done

Quill Gordon Shows How It’s Done

For the purposes of this post, the fire will be metaphorical, and the brush to be burned is a few things found laying around in the form of notes and half-started nonsense. This should lessen the chances of someone flapping and running, chased by a ribbon of flame, while everyone else hollers, “Drop the can! Continue reading

Categories: Humor, Winter | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 17 Comments

Forgotten Fly Fishing Legend: Little Dickie Conroy

Richard Herkimer Conroy was not born with a fly rod in his hand (his mother would not allow it) but by the time he was four he could cast a line further than men ten times his age. Few anglers know his name, let alone his story, and only scattered traces remain of his meteoric rise and ignominious decline, but “Little Dickie” Conroy’s influence is still felt today. Mocked, jeered, and once nearly burned alive by those who took offense at his unconventional style, Little Dickie’s mastery of the fly line has yet to be equaled. From elite casters to green dilettantes, many have tried, but no one has ever thrown a line like the dapper young man from Kansas who once, in front of three thousand people, landed a fly on a poker chip from fifty yards away while turning a one-handed cartwheel.

little dickie age 5

“Little Dickie” Conroy, age 5, from the collection of Richard Haas Continue reading

Categories: Fly Fishing, Humor | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Drunks Running Around in the Dark

Everyone knows Quill Gordon wears steel-toed drinking shoes and even a helmet from time to time. That said, he is not one of the drunks in the title of this post.

Shortly past 2:00 a.m. one late-September night, I woke up to the sound of what I took to be screaming outside. Dashing to the open window I saw, beneath the waning gibbous moon, a figure staggering about and whooping it up for all he was worth. While 2:00 a.m. might be the time, my dooryard is not the place for such drunken antics and I became consumed by the desire to put an end to his nonsense immediately.

Crashing into the frame of the bedroom door while pulling on some pants delayed me for just a minute or so (I think) but from there it was clear sailing as I made my way outside to give that booze hound a piece of my somewhat foggy mind. He was tricky, though, and ran to the other side of the house so I ran back indoors to the living room, where I banged on the windows and shouted obscenities as he ran by. I thought to cut him off at the porch as he made it around for a second circuit but he headed for the draw, where he hid in a thicket of willows and barked unintelligible nonsense at me while I threw rocks. Continue reading

Categories: Humor, nature, Rural Life, Vermont | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

179 Down

Five days remain in the season at Fish in a Barrel Pond. Just one more round of making beds and folding washcloths and soon it will be six months before I again wipe the Sunday whiskers from the sinks after a bunch of fly fishers clean up for their return to what they call the “real world.” Please note the gender neutrality of that sentence.

After half a year of all anglers, all the time, my wagon is draggin’ and the purposeful stride of spring has become a shuffling autumnal amble, interrupted by the occasional hop as I hitch up my pants. Long summer twilights and the splashy rises of trout taking mayflies seem distant memories as I walk the shore this morning in cold rain, seeing only desultory slurps here and there as a few late-season midges emerge. An entire mountainside disappears as fog works its way down-slope and soon the whole valley fills in, creating for a moment the illusion of being lost in time and that the lake, the camps, and all other things in my own “real world” are nothing more than memories themselves.

That, of course, is nothing more than hogwash its own self as at that moment a terrible noise shredded the foggy mountain silence. Continue reading

Categories: Fly Fishing, Loons, nature, Rural Life, Vermont | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

Pelecinid, Formicid, Arachnid, and Crustaceans in a Sap Pan

The Pelecinid

pelecinid

Usually seen on maple trees or in the grass around them, this pelecinid wasp was on a truck window the other morning. These black beauties use their long abdomens to probe for white grubs, upon which they lay their eggs. The larvae consume their hosts from the inside out before pupating and emerging as adults. At close to four inches long, adult pelecinids are clumsy fliers, what with their small wings and long asses dragging behind. They really have to lean into the turns carefully so their rear ends don’t whip around and send them into a spin. Not all of them do, and the smallest of breezes prove daunting enough that most pelecinids seem to just fling themselves around, hoping for at least a soft landing. Continue reading

Categories: Rural Life, Vermont | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Head in the Clouds

Last week, pictures of flowers; this week, pictures of clouds. Before anyone starts thinking Quill Gordon has jumped the tracks, don’t worry, there has been plenty of fishing (20 minutes last evening and half an hour last Sunday) but someone got a new camera and pictures are so much easier than words.

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Fish in a Barrel Pond is graced with an above average number of above average days as far as fine summer weather is concerned. Hitting the evening rise can border on the sublime, with fish taking dry flies like there’s no tomorrow beneath a sky that would be just fine if it happened to be the last one you ever saw. Continue reading

Categories: Humor, nature, Vermont | Tags: , , , , , | 3 Comments

Something Different: Pictures of Lily

Some dimwit clicked the “like” button on a recent post to this blog and, of course, I took the bait and clicked the link. To get a fly fishing reference in here I should write that “I rose to the well-presented offering” but this particular dimwit doesn’t strike me as able to stand still long enough to be much of an angler. He also likes his whisky with an e.

Chris Hinton’s blog is an odd amalgam of whatever comes pouring out of his brain so follow the link above at your peril. He is also known to have yelled at his mother for not having a blog of her own but now she does and he has redeemed himself by posting some lovely photos of flowers, which I thought was nice because his mother’s blog offers support for those grieving the loss of a child.

Clara Hinton’s blog is Silent Grief Child Loss Support. She seems to me to be a nice woman, who knows what it’s like, trying to help others through very hard times.

Following the lead of a dimwit in Pittsburgh, a few photos for them:

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Categories: +Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , | 6 Comments

Someplace Cool and Green and Shady

In High Summer, when the temperature climbs and southerly breezes blow sultry and moist, one can easily slip into delirium, taking solace in the fact that there will be a day six months from now exactly the opposite of today. Next winter’s white freshness and quietude are romantic visions in this time of muggy oppression, but one regains one’s perspective when one remembers a day six months past.

Capture

That day was booger-freezing cold and there is no need for that just yet (as if there ever really is). Remembering it pisses me off for some reason and has me wondering where I stashed the snow shovels so, as cooling-off methods go, perhaps memories of frostbite are not the best.

Some search for relief at beaches and swimming holes while others drive around in air-conditioned cars and marvel at the crowds. Some head for the nearest creemee stand, while others go for a cup of the hard stuff. I, however, have never been one for crowds and I am not particularly fond of standing around, dripping sweetened butterfat and attracting wasps. Staying close to home, I have found other ways to bear the unbearably muggy dog days of summer, but have no fear, Dear Reader, this post does not involve sitting in front of a fan with a big bowl of ice cubes perched upon my bare belly.

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Categories: nature, Vermont | Tags: , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Two and a Half Hours of Waiting for Four Minutes of Fishing

hex

Of all the “hatches” on Fish in a Barrel Pond, perhaps no other is anticipated by so many yet fished by so few as that of the “Hex”. Hexagenia mayflies are among the largest and most widespread in North America and in some places they emerge in such numbers that their mating swarms show up on weather radar. Gathering by the millions stacks the odds in their favor that another generation will carry on, even though they themselves are doomed to die within a day or so, but around here the numbers are nowhere near that and most that emerge before dark are doomed to die within a matter of seconds, snatched up by birds taking advantage of what to them is surely a boon. Still, enough escape the fish below and the birds above to mate and lay eggs to ensure at least a steady trickle of flies again next year when the time is just right.

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That time comes after the yellow drakes and the solstice, when the light for fishing doesn’t fade until nearly 10:00, but before the heat and summer conditions set in and catching a trout takes work. From shortly before dark through the wee hours, for at least a week, maybe two, the Hexes emerge and the trout feed with abandon, gorging on this suddenly plentiful food source. Continue reading

Categories: Fly Fishing | Tags: , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

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