Where Did All The Water Go?

   It is a well-known fact that a strong north wind can drive the water lower than usual in the Bay.  Sometimes during the winter months, our pier sits "high and dry" with nary a puddle beneath it.  Mud...that stinky, sloppy mud...surrounds everything and anything that was hidden by the dark waters is evident.  Tree limbs, derelict crab pots, even old boat parts are left visible once the tide is extremely low.  I have lived near this Bayou my entire life and have witnessed that old wind drive the water sometimes a good hundred feet from the pier's end.  The water returns with the next high tide if the winds have subsided but that lack of water does indeed put a kink in any fishing plans!  

  Saturday morning, the tide was at its low at around 7:30 in the morning.  We had an incoming cold front so the winds were out of the north and were sustained around 18mph.  Yes, the tide was low...really low!  Mark actually took pictures and made the remark that it was "the lowest I have ever seen!"  I checked and had to agree.  That water was way out there!  It was interesting to see but, since I had no plans of fishing, the phenomenon soon flitted from the brain.  There was no use in pondering low tide....until a few hours later....those few hours made a bigger impact.

  Around noon, Mark made a trip to deliver a pot of beef stew to a sweet old lady.  While he was gone, I glanced out the window and was taken aback.  Where did all the water go?  It was low tide before but this was getting ridiculous!  There was absolutely NO water!  I mean NOOO water at all!  I hurriedly made my way to the end of the pier to check this further.  There literally was no water!  The entire part of the Bay known as Magnolia Bend" (our part!) was nothing but mudflats!  I peered across to the air base...there...there was a wee bit of water in the industrial channel that runs parallel to the opposite shoreline.  That water seemed to be nigh on a mile away!  In fact, if you look closely at the photos that I took, you will see a glistening streak on the far shore.  THAT is the only water in our whole Magnolia Bend area.  The rest of what is seen is mud...purely mud.

  As I sat there pondering the lack of water, I had to giggle because, just last week, Mark made the comment that he would like to extend our pier so we would be in "deeper water".  Yeah, right!  I guess a mile long pier would be fine just so we can fish in that channel so very far away!  I am thinking he would be better off just jumping in that little skiff and puttering over there.   North winds and low tides are always going to be a thing around here but we just have to take it as it comes.  (I have to admit that I much prefer this type tide over the tidal surge that comes with a hurricane.  This one leaves no messy debris piled in the yard!)

Cotton Candy Waters?

   The waters of the Bay and the Bayou are both considered to be brackish.  We do not have the pretty, clear waters of the ocean.  Ours is muddy.  In fact, the bottom beneath the waters is nothing but mud.  You would pretty much sink up to your neck if you ever decided to try standing on the bottom.  Items dropped overboard will sink quickly never to be seen again.  To give you an idea of how bad it is, I will tell you that Pop once slipped and dropped an outboard motor off the side of the boat.  He was anchored against the shore in about two feet of water but the motor quickly sank out of sight.  No matter how he tried, he never found that motor.   That related, you can understand that it is difficult to describe our waters as beautiful.  Every now and again, however, something occurs that gives the waters a bit of beauty.

  Yesterday morning, there was a lone streak of rosy clouds over the pier.  There was nary a ripple on the water so the cloud was perfectly reflected on the surface.  Wow!  That was interesting!  I had clouds in the water!  In fact, it almost appeared as if some large, puffy, cotton-candy-like mass was floating just beneath the surface.  Funny how mesmerizing things like this can be.  At least, our waters were pretty for a few moments!  Then...back to brackish.

Pelican Day

   Today could not have been any more perfect.  Not that anything special happened yet everything special happened.  It was perfectly lovely.  The day started with sunshine (freezing but sunny) and brightened from there.  Things just got better and better.  Of course, having a good attitude can go a long ways in making every day perfect but, in today's case, life was just good.  Early in the afternoon, it got even better.

  Looking up from my chores, I noticed a lot of white birds out on the Bay.  Oh, my!!  White Pelicans! Why in the world White Pelicans bring such a reaction is beyond me but they always thrill me.  The birds are not a "rare" sighting but, then again, they are not common on our waters.  We see far more of the Brown Pelicans than the Whites.  

  Today's sighting led me to the pier for a better view.  The sun was shining warm, the waters were sparkly and more pelicans were making their way into the area.  Could things get any better?  Nope.  This, perhaps, was one of the best days in a long, long time.  I will take it.  Smile, folks.  Life is good.

Something fishy about those teeth!

  For a long time now, I have been trying to get a photograph of the teeth of a sheepshead.  Either I forget when one is caught or the fish is too small to really show the teeth.  Why, may you ask, do I wish to get a picture of a fish's teeth?  Well, it is simply this.  Sheepsheads have weird teeth and I am all about weird things!  What makes this fish's teeth odd is the fact that they have front teeth that look a lot like human teeth and that freaks folks out a bit when they first notice it.  In a large fish, it appears that the fish is wearing dentures!   But the weirdness does not end there!  Once you open the mouth of the fish, you find a whole slew of other teeth just waiting to crush a finger!  Just a thought here...keep your fingers out of a sheepshead's mouth!  Well, it would probably be a good idea to keep the fingers out of any fish's mouth...so just do it.  The entire inner part of the mouth and down the throat a bit are lined with flat teeth that are used to crush shells.  The fish feeds a lot on shellfish and crabs so it needs a way to get past the hard part.  The shell is cracked and the inner soft part is devoured while the shell remnants are discarded  That should give you an idea of the power involved in the workings of this mouth!  Those blunt front teeth are used to snip barnacles off of pilings and such.  

  Mark caught a sheepshead in the net this morning so it gave me the perfect opportunity to photograph the teeth.  He was patient enough to hold the fish for me and even got the mouth open so I could attempt an "inside" shot.  This was really awkward as the fish has fins that are sharp spines.  Come to think about it, the sheepshead is a pretty well armed fish!  Lots of stabby, pointy spines and a mouth full of shell-crushing teeth.  

Poor Decision

  After a long night of sitting up with an ailing dog, I had to escape for a few moments.  Since he was resting easy, I slipped out the front door to catch the sunrise.  Sometimes, a few moments can mean all the difference in the start of a new day.  While there, I noticed a tiny ripple in the water near the pier.  This ripple was different than those made by the little mullet running along the shore.  I strained my eyes to see what was making the small waves.  To my surprise, I found that it was a grasshopper floating on top of the water.  With no wind to push the critter along, I pondered how it had gotten so far from shore and how it had not been snatched up by a fish.

  Figuring that the grasshopper had been resting in the marsh and washed from its perch by the torrential rainstorm last night, I knew it had to be exhausted.  Knowing how I am, I probably would have tried to help the garden-eating pest had there been anything handy to extend down to the water's surface.   There was nothing on the pier that would suffice as a lift for the critter, however.  I watched as the grasshopper kicked its feet.  That motion sent it propelling across the water placing it within inches of the pier post.  "Grab ahold to the post!!"  Nope, the critter pushed again but in the opposite direction.  The grasshopper was kicking toward shore but it was moving away from its only hope.  

  The push to go to shore put the grasshopper right in line of a red drum that was chasing the school of little mullet.  Redfish are not choosy.  A grasshopper fills the belly just as good as a tiny fish and when it is helplessly floating atop the water, it is a lot easier to catch.  The poor decision making of the grasshopper caused its death.  A grasshopper became breakfast, a redfish filled its belly and I eased my way back up the hillside to check on old Mr. PJ, the old dog.  

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My Hero!

  I have this thing about people who throw trash in the Bay.  It aggravates me and makes me think "not so nice" things.  To me, the saying "Only trash litters" makes a lot of sense.  It takes a trashy person to litter up a perfectly clean place.  Why pollute the waters?  I have also found that those same people who toss their garbage into the water are the very same ones who complain that the Bay is polluted.  Well, la-di-dah...guess who made it that way???  Get real.

  Early this morning, Mark and I made our rounds about the hillside then wound up on the pier.  This  is our usual morning routine.  Once there, I spied something stuck in the marsh about half way to the mouth of the Bayou.  For the life of me, I could not figure out what that thing was.  It did not help that the rising sun was causing a blindspot right on the object.  I knew that it did not belong there so it frustrated me.  Someone had discarded some more trash into the Bay.  Ugh!  Mark, seeing how this upset me, decided to climb in the small skiff and go fetch the trash.

  As he paddled the small skiff across the glass-smooth water, I kept yammering about the ugliness of some people, their trash and their disrespect.  Mark reached down and pulled out a gasoline container.  Why in the world would you toss your gas can into the water??  Then, he pulled out a broken child's lawn chair.  Where did that come from??  We hauled both up the hill and properly discarded them.  Now, just how hard would that have been to do in the first place??  Come on, folks, put your trash where it belongs!!  And THAT is not my Bayou!!!  Through all of this, I realized that Mark is my hero!  Once again, he came to my rescue even if it was just to ease my mind about trash floating about in the Bay.

Fishing for memories!

  For the past several days, the Bayou has seen its share of stormy weather.  Nothing terrible but just enough to keep us inside.  Mark and I make short (quick) trips to the pier to check the small skiff but usually get chased in by the rain.  Not only has there been copious rainfall, the wind has been churning up the Bay.  This is all good by me but has Mark a bit antsy.  He wanted to go fishing!  It is a no-go, however, as the skiff bounces around like a toy boat in a whirlpool!  It just is not safe.

  This morning, that desire to fish got the best of him.  While on the pier, he threw the net a few times  "just to see if there is anything out there".  Well, there was not much.  He caught one small croaker and that was it!  The croaker was photographed then released.  It happily swam away unscathed.  That croaker got me thinking of days passed when my cousin and I would paddle out in (of all things, a molded plastic lifeboat that we called "The Bathtub").  We were young...probably too young to be out in the middle of the Bay by ourselves but times were different then.  We never felt that we were in danger and I am sure my aunt kept a watchful eye on us from her kitchen window. 

  Croakers were the prize we were set to catch.  They were quick to bite and easy to hook.  Just about anything could be used as bait as they were not picky.  It was our goal to catch as many as we could in the short time we were allowed to fish.  Usually, we were told to be home before noon as the fish had to be cleaned for lunch.  Neither of us had a watch so our "alarm" was Aunt Marie letting out a yell for us to come home.  Her voice would carry across the open Bay with no problems.  We, then, would paddle back home with our catch.  The fish were cleaned and Aunt Marie would fry them.  It was then our job to get back in that little boat and paddle down the shoreline to my uncle's place.  He was building a house there and had little time to cook lunch.  We toted it to him.  Croakers were on the menu quite often.

  It is funny how seeing the pretty, little fish with its golden scales started the flood of memories.  Those were good times...happy, carefree times.  Margie and I had no worries, no fears.  Unlike kids today, we spent our summers outside not cooped up inside glued to some electronic device.  We played, roamed the woods, fished in the Bay and generally were just being kids.  I miss those days.

Tossing and Turning!

  The weather was a bit stormy all day here on the Bayou.  This suited me fine as it kept me inside.  Normally, I do not like being confined to the Little Bayou House but there were baskets of plums that needed to be made into jam.  Once again, Son and I chopped and jammed!  Another three days of this and we should be finished.  The two plum trees were loaded this year and, even though we had to pick the fruit early to prevent the coons from ruining them, we will have more than enough jam to restock the pantry shelves.  

  There was one time when Mark and I slipped out to check the small skiff moored at the end of the pier.  Being stuck inside, I had no idea the severity of the storm that was pounding the Bayou.  My goodness!  This was not unlike a tropical storm!  Waves smashed against the pier and sent water flying over the top.  Our pier, being a bit higher than the others nearby, was still usable.  The others were completely under with the high tide.  The small skiff bounced fiercely with the waves but the moorings were holding fast.  Our normally calm bay was being churned by the winds.

  Mark and I watched the waves for a bit then headed back up the hillside.  We both pondered if this was some sort of harbinger of things to come.  Would this be the year of severe hurricanes?  Would there be many tropical systems hitting the Coast?  Would the Bayou see many storms raking over the marshes?  No one knows but we shall prepare just in case any of the scenarios come true.  In the meantime, those plums are calling me!  Back to work.

There is no water!

  My goodness!   When one thinks of a bayou, usually a bit of water winding through marsh comes to mind.  When one thinks of a bay, usually a large inlet of water comes to mind.  Not today.  Today, there was no water.  Nope.  The Bayou and the Back Bay were almost devoid of the wet stuff.  The water was gone...nowhere to be seen...vamoosed.  Overnight, the water had disappeared almost into thin air.  Where has all of the water gone?

  While there is definitely a lack of water here, it is no mystery.  Overnight, a cold front made its way southward until the north wind visited the Bayou.  It blew and blew.  Limbs crashed to the ground, outdoor furniture toppled and the water disappeared.  The north wind blew the water far out into the Gulf of Mexico and left mudflats nigh on as far as you could see.  Mud!  Lovely, mushy, quicksand-like mud now was laid bare by the winds.

The red arrow shows how far out the water was from the end of the pier this morning.  Mud flats!

  It always amazes me when this happens.  It is interesting to see what hides beneath the murky waters of the Bayou and Back Bay.  Exposed were all of the logs, derelict crab traps that (irresponsible) people leave behind and garbage that (stupid) people dump into the water.  Also to be seen was the myriad of critter tracks left behind by those in search of an easy meal.  Raccoons, fox, otters, herons, egrets and any other hungry critter could dine upon small fish and crustaceans trapped in the small puddles.  

  By late afternoon, the winds died down and the water returned to normal.  The temperatures started plummeting as soon as the sun set behind the pines and we will be witnesses to a tad bit of winter...albeit a short lived bit of winter.   With the cold tonight, the critters will surely appreciate the feast they found on the mudflats.  With their bellies full, they can hunker down in some snug spot and wait for the chill to pass.  I plan on doing the same. 

Through the Mist

  Years and years ago, I was often allowed to spend the night with my grandmother.  While this was probably more of a way to give Mom a break from an active youngster, I felt it was a special treat.  Being the youngest of five kids, I often felt left out of the "big kids" doings so I found this little outing quite exciting.  My scheduled sleepovers usually coincided with some movie that was being shown on TV.  This, too, was exciting as back on the farm, we had no TV.   It was on one of these sleepovers that I first experienced the musical "Brigadoon".  I was hooked from that moment which led to me being invited each time the movie was shown.  It became a ritual for Grandmother to put on the tea kettle, pull out the "fine" teacups and fix a plate of cookies to be enjoyed during our viewing.  This tradition carried on until I was a teenager and then my heart was broken by the passing of the dear lady.  I could not bring myself to even think of watching the movie for years and years.  Then, at some point, Mom asked me to watch it with her and, once again, the movie entranced me.  Later, my kids and I never missed a showing of the musical but, instead of milk tea and cookies, the kids wanted more "exciting" foodstuffs.  Sometimes we roasted hot dogs in the fireplace while other times, we had an indoor picnic.  The decision was theirs and, more oft than not, their grandmother (Mom) would join us for the fun.  I miss those days.  I cannot say that any current day movie has ever affected me as much as this one did.  Then again, I cannot say that any current day movies can possibly been deemed classics either.  

  This morning, memories of Brigadoon, the mystical city that appears of the mist every one hundred years, came back to me.  The time spent with Grandmother, Mom and my kids nearly brought tears to my eyes.   These memories were all due a heavy fog that had laid in overnight.  The thick mist blocked from view most of the other side of the Bay.  Only one small portion of what laid on the opposite shore could be seen and that vision was short lived.  The fog slowly blocked out the entire city.  The mystical, magical Brigadoon (in this case, Keesler Air Base) slipped from sight for the next one hundred years (or at least an hour).

  One of the best parts of living on the Bayou is that you never know what the new day will bring.  Things change with the drop of a hat and surprises abound.  Each day also brings with it the opportunity to reflect back on things from years ago.  The quietness allows the brain to wander where it may thus making each day, each memory worth a visit.  

As A Rule....

  I have rules that go along with being on the pier.  I figure that some folks need a bit of "guidance" when it comes to being on the water even if that water is only about 5 feet deep most times.  There are rules that pertain to fishing such as..."You do not kill anything that you are not going to use.  Either eat it or use it as bait or let it go free." And there are rules about taking care of the Bayou..."Never leave behind any trash."  Then, there are the rules of common courtesy..."Do not harass any of my critter friends."  Of course, there are the general rules of respect and care of the pier and fishing gear but one rule is just commonsense..."Never be on the pier during inclement weather."   That last one is far more important than all the rest because, here, weather can change in a heartbeat.

Rainstorm coming across the Bay!

  This afternoon, Mark and I headed to the pier on three different occasions.  The first time, as soon as we stepped out the door, a loud crack of thunder roared just to the east.  Nope.  Not happening. We turned and headed back into the house.  Second time, the rain started just as we got on the board path. Well, that was not good!  We turned to go back inside.  The third time, we finally made it to the end of the pier, caught bait and then we noticed the raindrops starting.  Time to head back up the hillside.  

  One reason I am so adamant about enforcing the weather rule is that several years ago,  I watched out the window as one of our pier posts was shattered by lightning.  The weather was not even particularly threatening that day but it only took a few seconds to turn into something that could have been devastating.  Had I been on the pier ignoring the upcoming storm, that pier post might have been me!  So even though there are other rules applying to the pier,  I thoroughly enforce the weather rule!  

Just a Short Visit

 There are those friends that stay close even when they are far away.  These are the folks who can visit and pick up right where things left off with the last meeting.  Pretty much, these are the true friends.  They are the ones who fit right in with the moment and with whatever is happening.  There is no stress, no awkward silences, no having to become reacquainted.  They are just friends who are as close as family.

  Sometimes, friends can be of the critter ilk.  I have often said that I have more critter friends than I do human friends and that I fully prefer it that way.  Critter friends cause way less drama.  They come and go without ever changing.  Months can pass without even a glimpse then, suddenly, there they are like things are just the same.  

  This morning, an old friend passed our way and made me smile.  Mark and I spotted the old gator swimming across the Bay toward the Bayou.  The animal has grown to quite the massive size now and seems to be doing well.  Most folks would probably be a bit squeamish about sharing their space with an alligator but it only seems natural.  A bayou needs alligators!  It would not be a proper bayou otherwise.  Mark and I watched as the gator slipped silently through the water until it came to a small clump of marsh.  It then lingered there to watch us as we fished.  I suppose by morning, we will find that our crab traps have been raided but that, too, is only natural.  All in all, it was good to see our old friend.

Cute Little Rascals!

  The Bayou seems to be the source of never-ending discoveries.  Whether it be from the life found within or from that washed ashore by a storm, new things can be found each day.  This morning, those new things were truly "new".  Mark and I were checking the crab traps and soft-shell boxes when I found something far more interesting.  Baby crabs!  Yep, teeny, tiny crabs were clinging to the boxes.  They had obviously just molted into their true crabby form and sought safety from the wooden boxes.  It was quite the amazing and humbling sight to see something so tiny trying to survive in this wild (and sometimes cruel) world.

  Blue crab eggs hatch into something that looks far different than the shape we all know.  This larvae sort of floats around with the waves for a month or so.  It munches pretty much on a diet of plankton until its next molt which makes it look a bit more like its parents but is rather elongated.  This tiny tot rides the tides into places like the Bayou where it food is plentiful.  Once there, it eats and eats until it molts again and this time, it is a miniature version of its parents.  At this stage, it is only about twice the size of a pin head!  The wee crab must find lots more food in order to continue to grow and molt but it also has to keep a wary eye out for predators!  Just about every other critter in the Bayou is bigger than it at this point!

  While it was fascinating to observe the tiny crabs, it was also very reassuring.  If the Bayou and surrounding Bay area is home to millions of baby crabs, the waters must be healthy.  The Bayou is flourishing with the cutest, little rascals ever!

 

As Slick As Glass

  Quite often, something will suddenly jog a memory that has been lurking back in the deep, dark depths of my brain.  I think memories hide behind the cobwebs of time that fill our minds and then, like some secretive spider will come bouncing out to surprise us.  It does not take much...the smell of fresh baked cookies, the sound of tinkling bells or even the softness of a piece of scrap velvet.   Our senses can make that bouncy spider become ecstatic and cause memories to flood our brains.  My brain was joggled into a whirlwind of memories of Pop the other day simply by calm waters.  

  Back in the day, Pop fished a lot.  He would rise before dawn to fish a few hours before heading to the fields.  Then, sometimes late in the evening, he would slip the old wooden skiff back out on the waters of the Bay and fish until darkness chased him back home.  Even though he fished most every day, he never neglected his work on the farm nor shirked the duties with his motor repair business.  But it was that fishing that tickled the brain.  

  As I sat looking at the gorgeous reflections on the Bayou, I could almost hear Pop saying "Its as slick as glass out there!"  Yep, the water's surface did resemble a pane of glass as it mirrored the horizon.  Without a breath of wind, the water was calm and had a glassy appearance.  As slick as glass....its a Deep South thing...one of those sayings that is passed down from one generation to the next...from Pop to daughter.   I miss Pop.

What?

  Every now and again something happens that just makes you scratch your head and say "What?"  Today, I was doing a lot of pondering and scratching that head.  Things were just not quite the way they should be.  Not that anything impossible happened.  More like things were just improbable.  

  Early this afternoon after the chores were finished, I headed to the pier.  The day was hot, the sun was bright and I needed a bit of cooler air.  With a slight breeze wafting across the Bay, the pier was the most likely spot to be.  On the way down the board path to the pier, I could hear the raucous calling of the seagulls and crows coming from the pier.  Seagulls?  Yeah, but crows?  What were crows doing on the pier?  It was best to investigate.

  Sure enough, two fine, black crows were occupying two of the pier posts right in the midst of a dozen or so seagulls.  Now that was different!  Not once have I seen crows visit the pier and mingle with the gulls!  The crows usually hang around closer to the woods or clearings but never out on the pier.  As I eased my way down the pier, all of the birds seemed oblivious of my presence until I was only about thirty feet from them.  Then, every bird down there started squawking!  What a din they were making!  Suddenly, the entire lot of them took flight, flew a few circles above my head and headed northward.  I suppose I will never know the actual reason the birds were together and will just chalk it up to another motley crew that ganged together in the search for food.

The Long Swim

  Every now and again some mundane incident can jog a memory of something pretty amazing.  A couple of days ago, Mark and I watched as a critter swam across from a small inlet to the pier.  Since the animal was far away from us, it was hard to identify judging by sight only.  It did not take long before I knew it was a nutria rat simply by the way it swam.  There was no up and down loping motion like that of an otter.  Still, it was not until the critter was near us that we could fully see its face.  Yep, a nutria rat was out for its morning swim.  

  As the "unidentified swimming critter" came toward us, a memory of a similar incident from years ago came flooding back into the brain.  I was on the pier early one morn when I saw what appeared to be something swimming across the Bay!  That was a far piece for any critter so I figured that it must be either an otter or a nutria rat.  Both of those could swim for miles but this animal did not swim like either.  It was struggling to keep its head above water.  At first, I could barely make out that this was indeed an animal.  After a good fifteen minutes of being in the water, the animal was finally getting near enough that I could see that it was neither an otter nor a nutria rat.  This was a little dog!  The pup had swam all the way across the Bay which included a shipping channel.  The poor animal had to be exhausted.

  Once the pup was near our pier, it tried to cling to the posts but the barnacles scraped its paws and the waves tossed the pup against the hard posts.  I grabbed the fish scoop net and made a mad dash to help the pup.  Once I was able to get  the little one to shore, I realized that this tiny thing was a poodle!  A little black poodle had swum all that way without rest!  Of course, the pup was scared, cold and starving.  I tried to help it but it cowered in the marsh. After a bit, the little one ate but then scampered off down the lane and I never saw it again.  

  It bothered me to know that somehow that pup wound up in the water and was not helped.  At the time, I had a strong suspicion that the pup's owner had decided to "eliminate" the pet by throwing it into the water.  The fact that the little poodle swam all the way across the Bay led me to believe that the poor animal was abused and terrified to start.  It broke my heart to know that the dog did not even feel that it could trust me...its rescuer.  

  The nutria rat, on the other hand, did not need rescuing.  These critters are expert swimmers and the adults have few predators except for the alligators.  It is not uncommon to see them far out from the shore.  The one that Mark and I watched, soon made its way into the marsh.  I have a feeling that this was some rogue male coming to visit the little mama that lives far back in the Bayou.  I guess we will be seeing some nutria pups in a few months.  Oh, geez....more of the critters!

Something Big Comes Our Way

  Since the Back Bay is rather shallow except for the one man-made channel running along the opposite shore, small boats rule.  Rarely do we get crafts of any size up our way.  Only during hurricanes will larger boats will push their way in to find a safe mooring spot.  Mostly barges run the channels. The other morning, however, a huge ship slowly made its way up the Bay.  This gigantic ship was heading in to one of the marine docks up a ways.  There it will receive repairs or supplies. It was interesting to see the three harbor tugs guiding the massive craft through the channel. I cannot imagine fitting that thing through and under the bridges that span the channel in so many places.

  As is my custom with anything a bit out of the ordinary, I photographed the huge vessel.  I figured that I might as well check into this ship and learn about what was running through the area.  With the aid of a zoom lens, the name of the vessel was clearly evident.  The "Harvey Hawk" was sliding past the pier!  Ok, so a little investigating gave me the clear picture.  The Harvey Hawk is a supply ship that runs out to the middle of the Gulf of Mexico to bring whatever is needed to the workers on the oil rigs.  It is just a bit shy of 300 feet long and a bit more than 32 feet wide.  Yep, that is pretty big. So big, in fact, that I could not even get the whole thing in my photograph!

  

It has been a while....

  The Bayou and surrounding Back Bay offer a variety of creatures to observe.  Most are the usual fish, alligators and birds.  Occasionally, however, something is seen that either gives you a case of jitters or causes you to stop and ponder.  That was the case today.  Not so much the jitters but the pondering was sure set into motion. Mark and I had just started our morning routine of fishing for lunch when I decided to check the crab pots.  We were not really interested in catching a lot of crabs but Mark had a hankering for a few soft shells.  If you keep  a single crab in the trap long enough and overfeed it, the crab will shed and become the delicacy that he wanted.  I knew we had two crabs in the pot but was hoping to find one of them had shed during the night.  Hopefully, the other crab had not cannibalized the soft one as they are prone to do.

  When I pulled on the rope that held the pot, I was not ready for the weight that I encountered.  Ugh!  We either had a turtle or lots of crabs!  I hoisted the crab pot up on the pier only to find that I had neither.  Inside the trap was a wiggly eel!  Wow!  That was one FAT eel!  It took me a moment to realize that the eel had gotten into the trap to eat my soft shell crab!  No wonder that fellow was so fat!  It does not pay to be greedy!

  Now that the eel had eaten an entire crab, it had gotten itself into a fine fix.  Going into the trap was easy.  The eel had slipped right through the wire mesh to dine upon my crab.  Going out afterward proved to be the problem. The now fat belly of the eel prevented it from making a quick escape! It was stuck!  Well, I surely was not going to grab hold to that slimy, wiggly eel!  It took me a while to unhook the crawler door and shake the eel out onto the pier so the critter was a bit exhausted after its ordeal!  Silly eel!

  It has been a while since I have seen an eel.  Back when I was a kid fishing this area with my cousin, we regularly caught the critters on our fishing poles.  My cousin and I used to hate when we pulled one out of the water.  Being six year old girls, we were not about to unhook that thing!  (Yes, we were allowed to go fishing by ourselves back in the day.)  Since we did not have replacement hooks, we came up with a removal method that worked for us but probably was a bit uncomfortable for the poor eel.  We would slide the fishing line between the pier boards with the eel under the pier.  Then....we would pull up on the line as hard as we could to literally rip the hook from the eels mouth.  Sometimes, the eel suffered a tear but I never remember hurting one to the point that it went belly up on us.  Goodness, how things can bring back memories!  Like I said...it has been a while...and I still do not like them.

East Winds Bring High Tides

  The weather has been a bit unsettled for the past twenty-four hours or so.  A stiff easterly wind has pushed the tide far up into the Bay.  Most of our neighbors' piers are under water.  Their boats sit moored unreachable.  A weather system has moved across the Gulf and is bringing rain, wind and high tides.  This is nothing to cause worry other than for those who have to travel flooded roads. Since I pretty much stay on the Bayou, I can purely marvel at the Bayou at is fullest.  The only threat we have is that critters from the marsh are now seeking higher ground.  It pays to be watchful when traipsing about the hillside.  Any number of snakes may be out and about but the only worrisome ones are the cottonmouths.  Others may give you a fright but the moccasin may give more than you bargained for.  I also have to keep close watch on PJ, the newcomer dog, as he may not be aware of the dangers of said snakes.  

  Pop always used to say that an east wind never brought anything good.  He was referring to fishing, of course, and claimed that "good" fish did not bite during an east wing.  I figured that since fishing was out other things should be done.  The inclement weather gave me the opportunity to work more on props for the upcoming clue hunt.  Our debut run is this Friday whether we are ready or not.  Mark has to go back to work so we rallied together a group of his brothers and sisters.  They will be our "trial" team.  Hopefully, things will run smoothly for them.  I have not been able to work as much on the props as I would have liked due to an injured leg but Son and one of his buddies have taken up the slack.  They have the "working" parts ready but the decorations are still not complete.  Today's work put me closer to finishing my parts but there is still a lot lacking.  Three more days to get things completed is pushing it.  Wish me well!

  The storms that roll in off the Gulf always inspire me and get the wheels in the brain turning.  There is just something about the excitement of a good storm to shake up things a bit and I definitely need a good shaking!  

Winter is Coming

  Winter must be on its way..at least up north.  The birds have been migrating our way for some weeks now.  This evening, I headed to the pier to check the skiff since we are due for some pretty stiff storms this week.  While there, I noticed that fish were breaking near the shore and longed for my fishing pole.  Just a few weeks ago, I had hauled the gear to the Little Bayou House and have yet to restore it to its proper place on the pier.  There, it is ready at a moment's notice but, for tonight, it sat far up the hill.  The sky started darkening and clouds were gathering.  

  Even though it was starting to get a bit dark to see, I caught a glimpse of some ducks far out from the pier.  A cluster of six mingled not too far from each other.  Four of the group had a distinct shape so, even though distance and lack of light prevented me a clear view, I recognized the ducks.  These were Hooded Mergansers!  The Hoodies are back!  Their wide crest and pointy tails were sure identifiers!  

  I love the little Hooded Mergansers.  They are usually some of the first ducks to fly into the Bay. After a few weeks, there will be hundreds of them in the Bay and many of them huddling beneath the pier to escape the stiff north winds.  During their stay, they will become accustomed to my presence and remain under the pier even when I wander down at sunrise.  Before dawn, I can hear their funny, little calls and soft splashes of water as they preen.  The Hoodies never cease to make me smile with their presence.  I am so glad they are back.  This is one of the reasons that I like winter so much!