Not Really What I Wanted To Catch!

   So...this morning, I was up bright and early, had coffee and, then, the cat and I headed out the front door.  Bat went his way to check what had happened overnight and I made my way to the pier.  Once there, the pitch blackness of 5am surrounded me with an eerie, cloaked feeling.  As I sat listening to the "daytime" birds starting to twitter, a different sound suddenly surrounded me. Ahh, the pipping of menhaden! Yep, within just a few moments, the entire area was filled with schools of the finest "fishin' size" bait!  Well, that meant only one thing to me...it was time to catch bait and fish a while.  After throwing the net just one time, I had several hundred of the tiny fish.  Two buckets of water gave enough room for about 30 baits.  Now to go shake Mark out of bed so he could join me.

  Our fishing started out with a bang!  Even though we caught nary a "good" fish, the baits were steadily being taken.  Gafftopsails and hardhead catfish were the catches of the day.  This was fine because they both make fine bait for the crab pots.  After landing several, I noticed that my line was acting "funny".  The fish was not taking the bait and running with it but, rather, just nibbling.  Hmm?  I taunted the fish for just a second and...wham!...off it went like a shot.  I jerked back to set the hook and that purely must have angered the monster on my hook.  The drag went to singing and, no matter how I tried, I could not turn the fish.  This tug-o-war was real!  I would gain a few feet of line and the fish would take it (and more) back.  Goodness!  

  The first thought was that I had hooked a huge redfish but it did not take long to realize that was a mistake.  Once I saw mud swirling up from the bottom, I knew just what I had but this rascal must be huge.  I battled.  The fish battled.  Then, finally, I was able to pull it to the top and near the pier.  Mark had the good idea of trying to get it in the scoop net but the fish would not fit in the 22 inch rim. "Just let it be," I told him.  He was determined to land the thing and took the pole from my hands.  I knew I was never going to be able to haul that thing up on the pier.  Snap!  The line broke and the fish glided back under the pier.

  Any fisherman could tell you just what I had hooked.  Yep.  A gigantic stingray had decided my bait was delicious so it took the whole bait, hook and sinker.  Personally, while it saddens me to know the fish has a hook lodged in its mouth, I am glad the line broke.  Let that huge thing live another day.  It deserved life after that battle when all it wanted was breakfast.  Besides, it was not particularly what I wanted to catch.  I was sure hoping for that redfish!

One Good Shot

   The camera is still on the blink and I am too old to learn new tricks like using the phone to take photographs.  A phone is a phone.  It is meant as a means to talk with people...not take photos...not play games...not send messages...not do anything other than talk with people.  The camera, on the other hand, is meant as a means to record pictures.  I am old-school, hardheaded and too old and tired to be anything else.  That said, my old trusty camera is as cantankerous as I am.  It usually only grants me one photograph per day before going into "hibernation" again.  It is a fickle thing.

  While on the pier, I noticed a lovely Great Egret perched atop a dead pine tree in my brother's yard.  The morning sun was at the right angle to make the bird gleam against the bright blue sky.  How much more photo perfect could it get?  The bird appeared to be posing for me.  Oh, camera, give me just one good photograph today!  Please!  So, I snapped a picture.  The camera worked!!!  Woo hoo!!! So, I tried again!  It worked!!! Wow!  Pressing my luck, I tried for a third!  Snap!  Yes!  I was elated.  Then the camera made that tired sound that it always makes before retiring for the day.  That was it.  Photo time was up.

  The bird continued to look gorgeous, the sunrise was pleasing and I had my pictures. It was going to be a grand day, I could tell.  I kept smiling as I walked up the hill to the Small Gardens.  It was time to dig the rows for my winter garden. Life is good.

Could It Be Moe?

   A few years back, I had the honor of befriending a Great Blue Heron.  This started when the bird as a youngster not yet adept at catching fish ventured onto the pier.  I offered it a few little mullet which it greatly appreciated...so much so that the bird returned every day for a handout.  After the first few days, I decided to name the bird "Moe".  He continued to come even after becoming an adult bird.  He and I got to be such good friends that he would actually take fish from my hands without ever pecking at me.  Oh, yeah.  I was warned.  "That bird will peck your eyes out if you get too close!"  It is silliness like this that bewilders me.  Moe never tried to "peck my eyes out" nor harm me in any way.  None of the critters of the Bayou do.  None.  For a couple of years, I had to limit my pier time due to health issues.  It broke my heart to know my friends (such as Moe) would not understand why I abandoned them but I followed doctor's orders and stayed a bit closer to the Little Bayou House. 

  Early this morning as I sat and watched the sunrise, I noticed a heron on my brother's pier.  The bird brought back memories of Moe and the good times I had with the bird.  I watched as the heron scooped up mullet after mullet from the water.  It brought me joy just knowing I was back in my "element"...back in my happy place.  

  As I sat there watching that bird, he kept a watchful eye on me, too. After a good half hour, the heron left my brother's pier and flew directly over where I was sitting.  It surprised me to see the bird actually do a "wing tilt" much as pilots do planes when they acknowledge or notice someone.  Do birds do that, too?  Was this Moe and did he recognize me?  Probably not.  Most likely the wobble was due to air currents or just the heron changing course.  Still, it brought a smile and in my mind, Moe gave me a quick "hello" before flying to the back of the Bayou. It was a good morning.