Nature is really amazing and I keep discovering her beauty with every exploration. Yesterday was no exception. The narrowly traversable waterways through this area were shallow enough for us to see the fish, turtles, snakes, frogs and other critters that call this place home. And alive. That place is alive. Butterflies, mosquitoes... you name it. We were as quiet as we could be as we worked our way in as far as our boat would float. Then we just sat and observed... took photos, and tested the waters with a short cast of the bobber-adorned line. Sure enough, we were rewarded with bites immediately.
When we'd pulled out from the dock, Killian had watched us, wanting to go fishing with us, but not daring to make the leap from the dock into the boat. We left her, looking at us as if we were traitors. Now, on the other side of the property, in the land of crazy-noisy water critters, we heard a larger, shore critter moving....focusing our eyes through the tall grasses and cattails, we spied her... Killian...she had carefully walked out on a rotting log in a feeble attempt to reach us, the humans undeserving of her adoration. We laughed as she attempted to balance on the log and laughed harder when she lost her footing and slipped into the shallow waters.
Killian really detests getting wet, and she scrambled to make shore....any shore. She landed on a piece of "shore" that is sort of a little island, with a single tree/shrub and more tall grasses. From there, she "talked" to us, anxious to be rescued and invited into the boat. But we were not inviting her this day. Her overactive self would be too much for the little boat loaded with two adults, five fishing poles, paddles, nets, tackle and bait. Not wanting to tease her unmercifully, we made our way back the way we'd come, carefully, gently, through the twists and turns of the shallow water.
We fished until it was almost too dark to see and then paddled to shore. Killian greeted us on the dock (all was forgiven as only a dog can). We threw our poles on the dock, the poles whose lines we'd left out as we'd paddled back in. We pulled the boat up and secured it. And then, with the daylight completely gone and night skylights not yet brilliant enough to illuminate our work, we pulled in those three lines that we'd trolled with, behind the boat. As one MIGHT anticipate, we'd managed to get the lines entangled with one another and, without sufficient light to untangle them, we made matters worse by simply pulling the lines out of the water, wrapping the poles together, and making our way back to the house.
In the garage, I took a look at the tangled mess and considered simply cutting the lines, and re-tackling them with hooks and weights and bobbers. That would have taken me all of about 15 minutes to accomplish. But there is something that drives me, compels me to "solve the puzzle"... untangle the "untangle-able".... As I followed the twists and turns of the lines I wondered what it is that drives me to do this. I mean, the whole reel of line only costs a few dollars...but untangle I must, and untangle I did. I think it took me about 45 minutes, but victory WAS mine!
At nearly 10 PM, with poles and lines all ready for the next fishing expedition, we headed inside to wash up and make some supper. No fish was on the menu last night as the only fish we'd caught yesterday were tiny ones who were released to grow bigger. Nevertheless, what we DID catch was delightful...photos of the natural marshy wonderland.
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