Blast From the Past/Poor Little Porker

Sometimes, your quarry is just too cute to kill.  That would include young javelina who get left behind as their family scatters when huge monsters start flinging arrows.  The poor little guy was just all tuckered out and really, really wanted his Mama.  Slow roasted whole, he would have been some tasty eats. But.......he was just too cute.  Even with an unpunched tag on the last day of the season.

So the only thing he got shot with was my camera.  And also got kissed by a MONSTER!

His reaction to kissing my brother is probably pretty similar to what mine would have been.

HELP!

I'm Lucky to be the Scrivener.

When you  invade a male beaver's territory, while he's struttin' his stuff for a pretty young lass, he's not shy about letting you know what he thinks.

I've been watching beaver at this location for over 15 years.  That water is sitting at about 450' above sea level.  Not what most people would think of as "beaver habitat."  But most people are  spending too much time worrying about inconsequential B.S.

i dare you to click this pic!

I caught one bass from what could have been many,  and was more interested in the beaver after that. As it got darker I really had to ratchet up the exposure, but it was worth it.

This frisky fella, didn't get the belle of the beaver ball, but he definitely had the pimpest hat in the cove.  (click that pic to see the hat.)

On the way in from the beaver-fest, I stopped and rendered assistance to those less fortunate than myself.  These folks were broke down and effed up.  I towed them in. There is a certain ironic element in  my 25 HP Evinrude towing this bad boy in. 502 cubic inches of NUTHIN' gettin' towed, while your wimminfolk are flirtin' with the fat hairy fisherdude runnin' and gunnin' that 25 HP speed machine.

These people didn't catch a largemouth bass, they didn't see any beaver, or photograph any beaver, nor did they stop and render assistance to their boating brethren. They were also oblivious to the fact that right behind them on that huge red ourcropping, the swallows we have already discussed, were working their tails off.  But, who am I to judge?

UH OH!!!

Sometimes you just find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Random Pics

Marla is celebrating her 100th blog post.  She says she's especially good at posting pics and rambling on about them.  So this is for Marla.  Happy 100th!

                                      Marla doesn't like fish.  I do.

                                                 

Marla has a love/hate relationship with her cat.  Me too.

Marla is marrying a farmer.  I used to be a farmer.

Marla likes taking pics of sunsets.  So do I.

Marla loves her family.  So do I.

You should all go by and tell Marla hello.

                                                 

Once Upon a Time, There Was This Dude Named Noah...............

Here in Havasu our native rock is gray, and brown mostly. Typical Sonoran and Mohave desert stone carved by the mighty Colorado River.  Along the river you can find rocks delivered here from places far away by mighty, ancient floods.  Some of those floods were inconceivable by today's standards and those angry, churning waters moved vast amounts of material towards the sea.  That's why here and there along it's course, the river left signposts of it's power.

click pics to enlarge

We have alot of rock formations like this jutting up out of the normal brown and gray.  The red mud came from Utah, or the faraway area that is now the Navajo Nation.  Our minds cannot even begin to wrap around the torrential immensity of the size flood it would take to move this material.  An ancient sandbar left behind as the water receded. 

If you look closely you can see the striations of gravel and small rocks that were layered into the mud, then ultimately encapsulated as the mud turned to stone.  Testament to the ancient rhythms of our earth.  Speaking of rhythms, how about the rhythm of life.

Those nesting swallows are definitely doing their part in carrying on the grand seasonal rhythm of springtime.  New life.  They aren't worried about the NBA playoffs, or the November election, or the monthly rhythm of the bills arriving in the mail.  They are mostly worried about building this safe neighborhood for their kids. And just like us humans, feeding those kids.

A swallow homesite provided by an ancient, cataclysmic flood.  The color of their nests is indicative of the color of the usual sediment here.  I wonder if  a long time ago, in a land far to the north, before it got washed here and turned to stone, if that red earth nurtured other living things. Plants, or burrowing rodents or even our ancestors.

I wonder if there was a mud nest on the ark with two swallows in it?

Respecting God, Fish, and My Tummy

I've been fishing alot lately.  Springtime is my favorite time to be on the lake.  Summer crowds aren't here yet, the water is crystal clear, the temps are warm, and the fish are hungry. I can totally relate to the hungry thing.

 This time of year I always bring a couple fish home to eat.  Most get thrown back out of respect for the resource.  I know there are "militant" catch and release folks out there, but I believe that keeping the occasional fish for the table is not only moral, but also respects what God has given us for sustenance. Remember, beer is also food.  My ex-swimmer food knocked over my canned food. DANG IT!

I filletted this chubby smallmouth bass and kept looking at the carcass.  Destined for the garbage?  I could see that there was still ALOT of unharvested meat and it bothered me.  Two little fillets and the rest going to waste.  Unless.............................I respected what God had provided.

Saved from the trash and into a hotel pan on the stovetop.  That pan is 17 inches long so you can see that this fish was large.  A little olive oil and Italian seasoning with a squirt of lemon juice and things started smelling pretty good in the kitchen. I also added water as needed to get some steam action. As this "garbage" cooked it started to reveal treasure. Protein and flavor treasure.

That right there is collar and cheek flavor heaven.  Succulence.  I was struck by how often we overlook gifts in our haste to keep on doing things the same old way.  If we harvest food sources and waste them, I believe it's morally wrong. I got my eyes and heart opened, and my tummy filled up.

Ok, I know it's a yucky pic, but that little pile of meat is what was left BESIDES the cheek and collar.  That pile of goodness is going to be a fish taco for my lunch today.  When the carcass went in the trash, not only was my hunger satiated, but I also knew that I had fulfilled my moral obligation to not waste what God has given. Including barley, malt, and hops in a can! 

Hello Strangers

I need to ease back into this.  All is not well, but all is not lost either.  Historically, when I get to feeling like I'm under too much pressure, I kinda withdraw.  Fortunately, I live in a withdrawal friendly zone.

I've been withdrawing to a couple fishing holes I know. 

If you stuff a withdrawal bass with sweet onion and mango and sear, then finish in the oven,,,,,,,,your stress will melt away with every bite.

The scenery on the way in helps too.

Shannon and Blu,  thanks, I was just waiting for somebody to notice.