FISHERMEN: #48 MOOSE CALLING – 1901 BY FREDERICK REMINGTON

Tags

Canton NY, fishing, Frederick Remington, George Washington Sears, Nessmuk, Rushton Canoe

 

© Copy written for what I will never know.

FISHERMEN: #47 TROUT FISHING – 1901 BY FREDERICK REMINGTON

Tags

Canton NY, fishing, Frederick Remington, George Washington Sears, Nessmuk, Rushton Canoe

Frederick Remington the famous American outdoor artist was born in Canton, New York in 1861. The family moved to Ogdensburg, New York when Remington was eleven. He attended Vermont Episcopal Institute, a church-run military school.

 

The life and career of a Canton, NY canoe builder, J Henry Rushton, was the focus of a special display at the St Lawrence County, NY, Historical Association.

 

J Henry Rushton (1843-1906) built his first canoe in 1873. By 1876, the first national mention of a Rushton boat appeared in Forest and Stream magazine; most likely written by George Washington Sears, aka “Nessmuk.”

George Washington Sears (December 1821 – May 1890) was a sportswriter in the 1880s and an early conservationist. His stories appeared under the pen name “Nessmuk.”

Sears was 5 feet 3 inches tall and 103 pounds had a 9-foot-long, 10 ¹⁄₂-pound canoe built by Rushton. He named it the Sairy Gamp. Sears completed a 266-mile canoe journey through the central Adirondacks. He was 62 years old and in frail health at the time

The information on Remington, Rushton and Sears was gleaned from Wikipedia and the Saint Lawrence County Historical Museum.

 

© Copy written for what I will never know.

FISHERMEN: #46 SHARED THOUGHTS

Tags

fishing, freedom, Love, peace, quiet, sharing

 

He did not wish,

to intrude,

on their,

thoughts.

So he conscientiously,

turned around,

and departed;

without a sound.

The End

© Copy written for what I will never know.

 

FISHERMEN: #45 A VOYAGE

Tags

fishing, freedom, peace, quiet, re-energizing

 

He left the factory, and his family behind,
and the mortgage – – – and all of his,
other responsibilities.

Not forever – – – no never forever,
just for the four days he needed,
to re-energize and get centered,
once more – – – again this year.

So he took his canoe and books,
of George Washington Sears,
and Nussmuk’s first love,
the Sairy Gamp.

And like a child with a cape,
playing Superman games,
he allowed his mind,
to play games,
with him.

It was easy due to the forest,
enshrouding him beneath,
overhanging hemlocks,
or an open blue sky,
the river became,
his cape.

And when he hit the still-waters,
he would flex his rod and reel,
to see if he could still fool,
a brookie or two.

Usually it was they who fooled him,
and he was quite pleased at this,
because it was a game that he,
did not wish to always win.

His little white finned adversaries,
would not be very worthy,
to be called adversaries,
if they were that easy,
to trick or fool.

Then – – – when the four days ended,
he did not wish to leave this place,
where the trees, river and sky,
held him in their arms,
so that he could face,
another 361 days,
of responsibility.

When he packed up the car,
and drove the five hours,
towards the next 361,
he was exuberant,
his chest was full,
of something,
without,
a name.

But he knew it was real,
no capes were required,
for the rest of the year.

© Copy written for what I will never know.

FISHERMEN: #44 ATTRIBUTES

Tags

brooding, colorful, energetic, enthusiastic, fickleness, fishing, loyal, stoicism

 

The tannic waters of the Adirondacks,

have various sources – – – according to,

various sources.

Some say it is caused by the leaves,

of hardwoods and shedding tamarack,

and blame the trees.

Others say it is caused by leaching,

of iron ore found in various parts,

of these North Woods.

The brook trout don’t really care,

who-says-what, about the dark water,

they simply absorb it.

Except for those white streaks,

on the bottom of their,

little fins.

And the blue spots that also have,

a pink aura surrounding them,

here and there.

And when they are caught,

they make your line hum,

like a fiddlers bow.

And the dark brooding waters,

bring a log to rest on a rock,

for friendship.

The rock can not move,

and is lonely – so the log,

comes to him.

But just for a year or so,

because leaves are turning,

and the water freezes.

In the springtime the log,

will seek a new friendship,

downstream.

The stoic rock hopes to find,

a new log – a new friend.

probably so.

And the young man returns,

to say hello to the rock,

and its new log.

And hopes to feel the tremor,

of  the fiddlers bow on his line,

once again.

The water remains dark,

the brookie remains bright,

the boy remains hopeful,

the rock remains stoic,

the log remains fickle.

© Copy written for what I will never know.

FISHERMEN: #43 PANDEMONIUM

Tags

chasm falls, cold, damp, enthused, falling in, fishing, wet

 

That day there was chaos at the chasm,

for a week – at the bit – they were chafing,

to head up north for a week at the chalet,

on enthusiasm this incident should be chalked.

Fishing appeared to be a game of chance,

however the outcome was simply charity,

bestowed on humans by The Chancellor,

to be told in various bars; as a chanson.

This scene soon became a wild charade,

as both men succumbed to chauvinistic,

hubris which lead them to take chances,

which resulted in a dunking and chill.

The story was overly honed and chiseled,

perfected, enhanced and choreographed,

’til it was modified into a legend; chromatic,

a unique, imaginative and glorious chimera.

© Copy written for what I will never know.

FISHERMEN: #42 CHICANERY

Tags

fishing, innocent escapes, salesmen, truants

 

Three people with nothing to do,

one older man who skipped work,

and two young boys who skippped school.

The boys tossing rocks in the water,

and the man quite unaware due to,

that empty gallon jug – to his rear.

It was so satisfying to skip work,

boss thought he was out selling,

various things to chew on,

such as gum and tobacco.

But he was chewing on thoughts,

about the day he would get,

a better job – and rich besides,

until the stuff that once resided,

in the gallon jug – to his rear,

had been completely consumed.

The two boys however,

had no thoughts of riches,

or ambition – or algebra,

their thoughts consisted of,

purchasing some chewing gum,

or – on a dare – chewing tobacco.

When they saw the salesman,

leaving Mrs. Whipples store,

they saw a chance to pilfer,

some chewing stuff from him.

But to their glee,

they caught him fishing,

and found more to their liking,

an engagement of chicanery.

© Copy written for what I will never know.

FISHERMEN: #41 “COURT IS IN SESSION”

Tags

concubines, fishing, fishing buddies, lawyers, secret squeeze

 

Here we find Judge Applebee,

without his robes that lend him,

that aura of grandeur and power,

or those trappings of the courtroom,

the bailiff, the stenographer and gavel.

It is a simple dumb beast,

that finally lets the world,

and all his good friends,

see the judge for what he is,

a simple dumb beast,

like the rest of us.

Once he is free of,

the awful situation,

that confronts him,

he will laugh and joke,

about it with his friends.

And then Judge Applebee,

will swear his lawyer friends,

to secrecy – – – so as not to,

diminish his standing in,

the small community,

 that he dwells in.

And they all swear to him,

by the power of their Orvis rods,

never to speak of this moment again,

and then like good legal bar members,

they wink and allow a small grin to escape.

And on Monday – – – Judge Applebee,

dons his robes and assumes the power,

while his lawyer friends execute the law,

to the best of their ability and cunningness,

the police chief’s secret squeeze get off,

for driving while imbibing,

and other infractions.

While dirt-poor Henry Bopkins gets a free week,

at the expense of the citizens of the village,

for stealing a few Guinea-Hens to make,

some nice fishing flies for next season,

which the judge surely will,

 purchase from him.

Word gets out about Judge Applebee,

and the dumb beast that challenged him,

to a duel – – – which the beast won.

The whole town and Henry have heard,

the stories – – – and the price of Henry’s,

Guinea-Hen fishing flies triples for the judge,

as Henry winks and reminds the judge,

of his loss of stature to the dumb beast,

and also about finding,

the chief’s concubine,

“Innocent of all charges.”

© Copy written for what I will never know.

FISHERMEN: #40 A NATURE SCENE

Tags

angling, balsam scent, Do'n What Comes Naturally, fishing, Mountain scene

 

I was fishing in the creek,

enjoying nature at its best,

the trout is what I went to seek,

but the picture tells the rest.

I smelled the balsam trees,

saw a mother with her fawn,

watched pollen stolen by bees,

and more at the crack of dawn.

Splashing beyond a large rock,

caught my attention at mid-day,

on this scene my mind did lock,

wood-scene thoughts soon fell away.

© Copy written for what I will never know.

FISHERMEN: #39 OPINIONS

Tags

angling, balsam, balsam scent, dock, eagle, fir trees, fishing, fly fishing, friendship, lake fishing, libations, Mountain scene

 

Whew – – – that was rather taxing.

This is the tenth and very last picture of fishing lakes and streams with that big dome in the background.

I was running out of words.

See that young fellow wading around out there? Pretty clever guy.

His friend wanted to build a dock – – – and he did so.

But not that dock.

The other dock is long gone. You see – – – his friend built it on stakes pounded into the lake bed. And then he built his dock on that. The following spring the snow and ice caps melted off of big dome and the lake rose two feet. It tore his dock right off the stakes and completely ruined it.

So this fellow, the one in the red checkered shirt that is attempting to fool the fish, he told the other fellow with the ruined dock “I have an idea.”

And the ruined dock fellow says “Do tell.”

Then checkered shirt guy says “We can build a dock that is attached at the shore line with hinges. The outer end will float on barrels. We can put stakes inside the dock to keep it from twisting but we won’t attach them to the dock. Then when the lake rises the outer end will rise and fall with the lake level.”

And they did so together. Became good friends in the process. Had a beer together when they finished.

I am not sure if the beer was meant to bond the friendship or just to quench the thirst. It really doesn’t matter. Probably did both.

And even I got something out of the process. That dock made me change my dealings with other people.

“Do tell” you ask.

Well – – – I was like that stiff dock. When the tempers rose, like the lake, I would remain adamant and would not budge. It didn’t work out most of the time. Now I stay grounded in my base opinions but allow others to raise or lower my outlook.

I used to get destroyed in most opinionated discussions. But now people realize I am listening and am willing to change.

Guess what! They also change their opinions once they realize we are having a discussion and not an argument.

Go figure.

© Copy written for what I will never know.