Plan A : Nope. Plan B : Good. Plan C : Yes!

Had a laborious Saturday. Moved nine tons of dirt out at my oldest daughter's place and started her a new garden in it. Skid loader? I wish, but we had to do it with a wheelbarrow, shovels and rakes. It only took a couple of hours to move and level it all out, and planted after grilling some dogs and sipping on hard cider. Maybe I'll take some pics as things get growing out there. After taking Sabbath on Sunday, and praying that the storms around here wouldn't mess things up too bad for me, I decided to wade the river for some smallmouths Monday morning. I was too late. The water was high, fast, and chocolatey already.

Not being one to have just one plan in mind, I headed to the hills for plan B, but also had a notion to try plan C on the way back home. But for plan B, the hills have mushrooms for the picking and I was able to pick up a dozen bigger yellow morels.

the mayapples are flowering now

I did a bit of wandering around, also, to find connections to several areas that I have good luck finding morels in. Passing through a clearing I spied the little dainty flowers of wild strawberries! I sometimes find these while out 'shrooming, but never make it back in time to try a wild fruit. One of these days...I can't wait.

wild strawberries!

After thinking that I was able to connect a few "hot spots" with no problems in the future, I realized my time was running short, and I would follow up on plan C - trying the trout stream on the way home. I noticed a few flowers blooming in the bottoms that I didn't see while roaming the hills for morels.

wild geranium

phlox

The notion I had was that the trout stream would be a bit dingy, even up at the headwaters, and that the browns would be a little less wary -

Yes!

YES!

YES! YES!

A 16th oz. black maribou jig did the trick. I also brought to hand a beautiful rainbow trout with excellent markings, but it slithered out of my hand while I was fumbling with the camera. Ah, well, can't capture them all. Love it when plans come together.

Some Character Addition

We weren't going to spend Friday night just relaxing in the front of the TV or computer, and for damn sure I wasn't going to waste my evening sucking down too many suds. The environment has experienced what I would could consider favorable conditions for the propagation of morels. So my youngest and I decided to check my prediction, and hit the paths to rummage through the forest floor debris.

There has been a definite advancement in the greenery in the woods, and there is some late spring/early summer flowering happening. The Virgina bluebells and crabapples are catching our attention, along with the bumblebees buzzing in the gooseberry thickets.

Virginia bluebells

Virginia bluebells

crabapple blossoms

One thing I always emphasize to my kids because they know that I am fascinated with mushrooms, is that there are a lot of mushrooms that are classed LBM's, or little brown mushrooms. I tell them it's safest not to even try to identify and eat them. There are too many species and they are too easily confused. A lot of them are poisonous to us. But I LOVE to take pictures of them, all the same.

some sort of inky cap

We did find some morels, and damn they were small. Morels nonetheless, and proved to the boy that I know a little something about all this.

the largest morel we found this evening

Other than each other, our company were deer, barred owls, spring peepers, grey tree frogs, American toads and bumblebees. And thorns. And one blister. For me it was time preciously spent, though anxiously praying my youngest retains some of what I'm trying to teach him. Add to his character, anyway.

Only Here Can It Be Unmade...

...That is, the thick-corded, tightly knotted web my mind creates of all I take in while coping with the day-to-day and it's duties, slung upon myself like a cast net, holding me under. Most find home their place to untangle and lift off the net, while I let the winds, trees and waters do the unknotting.

the woods with carpet of anenome, in mid-afternoon light

anenomes

Since I last wrote, three trips have been made to hills for checks on their condition, one with a son, one with a daughter, and yesterday, alone, each time also in search of morel mushrooms. Each time we came home empty handed, except for the witnessing of subtle changes in the flora. The hepatica and bloodroot have now lost their flowers, though the spring beauties, in their daintiness, are still going strong. Bellwort are sprinkled in sections now, with here and there a trillium to be found, though they haven't opened flowers yet.

bellwort

trillium

It has been a cold spring, lacking humidity, therefore keeping the fruiting of mushrooms to a minimum. Just yesterday, I found a couple of fresh pheasant back mushrooms spraying out of trees, which means the morels will come along any time. My bet is they are trying their best, and anxious for some heat.

young pheasant back mushrooms

mature pheasant back

New birds are flitting in the branches, many little ones that I can't get a good eye on, and also the eastern towhee and catbird. The catbird is one I normally relate to mosquitoes and black raspberry picking season. It was new to hear it's strange mewings in the trees, having yet to swat a little flying bloodsucker, or have purple-stained fingertips.

As the sun set behind the hills to the west, the low light in the woods made it nigh impossible to pick out details clearly, forcing me to the trail and back home. And thankfully, even then reward was found. Five whitetail deer stood in the trail, and just off it, moving their heads side to side, trying to get a good bead on me, one snorting to scare me off or to get a better whiff. A bit later on, two raccoons crossed the trail ahead, making their way downhill to the seeps and creeks, I'm guessing.

To top it all off, the hooting of barred owls in the woods to the north of the trail made a tom turkey gobble just across the valley from me. That is a scene that never gets old, and one I'm going to have to use as I see the net being tightened and checked, prepared for the next cast, to keep it in the casters hands until I can walk in the winds next.

Uh-oh, Three Skunks In A Row.

The fishing was fairly frustrating. The wind was perfect - meaning it blew hard enough at just the right times to affect the aim of my casts just before landing and to make a few tangles of line from my spinning reel. And to top that off, no fish were brought to hand.

On the bright side, two small brown trout about six inches long apiece released themselves just before I was able to get to them, and the first little fellow had a brute following him. That dandy would have topped twelve inches, I'm sure. But I don't think he ever touched my jig.

There was also a stockie that made a lazy roll at my black jig bouncing along the bottom, but I didn't have much interest in him after having first had the wild browns slashing at it. Geez - didn't catch any fish my last couple times out, either ( I'm talking about wild fish here). Better luck next time, eh? Wouldn't hurt to spend more time trying.

Spring Wildflowers Of My Morel Woods

My youngest daughter (18) has been asking how close the time has come for morels to start popping up out of the forest floor. My last check was Friday, and it looked like things may be a week or two off. So I had to go out and check today. Lots of sign of good things to come shortly - amazing what a couple of days will do.

very young mayapples

dutchman's breeches still needs to put up flowers

spring beauties

hepatica

bloodroot

The wildflowers are another reason I'm out here. I love to watch the earth come to life after winter. It very much felt like there should have been morel mushrooms present, but I was in an area I am unfamiliar with, wishing I was in one of my hotspots. Lots of time can be used looking for mushrooms and waiting for turkeys to walk in on you ( I almost ran out of time to go fishing!). A tom and two hens walked up the hillside toward me, and got me wondering again why I don't hunt turkeys. Maybe one day.

Things Other Than The Fishing

My dad was a fisherman in what I would consider the truest sense of the word. Not a fisherman that pulls nets from the ocean, or a fly-fisherman of the western streams and mountain lakes. Nor did he ever cast for salmon returning from the sea or put a boat in Canadian lake. He never fished the famous largemouth bass reserviors or tried for tarpon or redfish. But the fish of the rivers and ponds where he lived - smallmouth, catfish, bluegills, crappies - were in mortal danger when made a visit to their waters. He knew the what, when, where and how as well as anyone, and no one paid less attention to anything else than him when his line was in the water.

This was not a trait that was wholly passed onto me. Granted, on the weekends my brother and I got to spend with him, hunting and fishing was the focus, and this is where I acquired my love of the outdoor pursuits. But the weekends I didn't spend with him, I spent outside on my own, learning all I could of the critters that aren't game. Frogs, caterpillars and butterflies were constantly taken from their homes and brought into mine. I kept a few garter snakes for short times, unbeknownst to my mother. The scariest thing the poor woman had to deal with was a garden spider that had escaped it's jar, and turned up a month later in a web behind the television, twice the size it was when it escaped! She was furious that I had to hear her scream in fright.

My fascination with nature persists to this day. Even when fishing, my head seems to be on a swivel trying to catch those glimpses of things that no one else seems to notice or cares little about. Nothing like my dad, who would scarcely pay attention to the lightning above him. I think I frustrated dad a little, and my wife nowadays, because they would rather have me filling the freezer rather than deciding if I could get away with bringing a snake home for a few days. I can't help it. This garter crossed our path while leaving the trout stream. But the little bugger got too aggressive too quickly, so I let him be, and settled for a few pictures instead. Besides, he was too small. I might as well bring home a big one for impact.

To Hear Him Recall Times Past

It was actually very surprising to listen to my youngest son - thirteen years old - recall the places we had been amongst these hills and the things we had done. Like the time he had lost all the mushrooms he had picked through the bottom of his bag, the pools we had caught smallmouth in, the hill we call "Heart Attack Hill" whose trail comes up from the stream where he caught his first trout. It's good to know I'm not completely wasting his time by bringing him along. You just never know what a kid will retain these days, or what they'll look back on. They have so many things going on, and I know some of it is my fault. But it does me a ton of good knowing he remembers these things.

The trout stream has a whole new look to it compared to a week ago. The water has cleared and the bottom is getting very scummy with algae. It's a strange green compared to it's surroundings, still drab and waiting for a stretch of seventy degree weather. But, as my son was pitching a small spinner into the first pool we stopped at, I noticed there were some green plants coming along the streamside - wintercress, virginia waterleaf, burdock. We are about a month slower than last year, but just about right as far as history is concerned, I'll wager.

Our time on the stream was far shorter than we would have liked, but any time spent there is better than none. I was able to take a somewhat beat up stockie rainbow out from underneath a limestone boulder that enabled the stream to scour below and behind it. The chute is only about two foot wide right there, but about three feet deep. I've caught a couple of wild browns out of there, but it didn't happen this day. The time will come when I'll have my fly rod outfitted right and I can drift a nymph or streamer through these holes, hopefully better tempting the sleek and wild trouts. But this is where I am at, and how I have to go about it. It's not like I take this too seriously or anything. I like to spend some of the time chasing frogs and snakes, too, you know...