Morning Walk, June 29, 2011

No wind blowing this morning, maybe there will be game movement?  Not having even cleared the cattle gate, as I looked to my left, there was a skunk.  My first thought was to go get a rifle from the house and dispatch it, no, that would take too long, so I took these two “shots” with my camera.
    
Unlimbering my pistol at extreme range, to no avail except the skunk letting loose, I let loose two errant shots.  When last seen the skunk was heading west toward the thick stuff!

A hundred yards into my walk, a doe and her fawn were watching me as I passed.  To get a better look at the fawn, click on the picture.  Getting this “shot”, before I could get off another they were gone.

Along a fence line, these two doe had heard me coming and as I watched, they both slunk off into the thick stuff.  Walking quietly is tough on our gravel roads!

A hundred yards up the road this young jackrabbit was just sittin’ and enjoying the morning.  He sat still for a “shot”, but when I moved a few feet toward him, he sensed the danger and sped away.

Two mornings ago, I shot another young jack with my .22 auto.  I knew he was young because when I shot and missed it, instead of running off at full speed, he just hopped a few feet and continued nibbling at the tender shoots of grass.  Big mistake!

Unadvertised Weather

At first, moving to Arizona in mid-January, 1971 was a challenging experience, but as we became acclimated, the entire family thoroughly enjoyed the State and its many outdoor activities. Along with our acre lot and diving pool, our house, a four bed room, Spanish colonial period style, with stucco walls and a courtyard, was very comfortable. During mid spring of that year, the family had survived a tornado that had hit our mountain, Mummy Mountain and bounced over our house, tearing into northern Scottsdale and yes, it did sound like a freight train.

Come June 1, into the pool we went. The water was still cool, but wow, our own pool! On a pleasant summer afternoon, only 110 degrees, we were enjoying the water when we noticed, moving rather fast to our southeast, a funny looking cloud and before we knew it the funny looking cloud was within two miles of us, rolling in our direction. So like the flatlanders we were, we kept on swimming and playing and soon it was a block away when we figured out that the cloud was made of sand.

It was a sand storm with epic proportions and it blew over us for the next 15 minutes! No one was hurt, but everything, including us watchers, was a mess and liberally doused with a covering of fine sand. The sand seeped into our house, our cars, and our beautiful pool had almost an inch of sand on the bottom.

If you are a beginner in pool maintenance, try cleaning sand out. After this storm we hired a professional and in their local and national advertising, the Arizona Chamber of Commerce never mentions tornadoes or sand storms.

When I was a little boy, my mother told me a story about her childhood in west Texas, about it raining during a sandstorm. She said it rained mud and that the mud was much harder to remove than dust!

Why We Hired Him

Our computer services company was still growing and our business prospects looked good, so early in the summer of 1998, Bob Baugh and I decided to take a day off and go fish for tarpon. Over the past few years the tarpon had moved back to the beachfront in sufficient numbers that several fishing guides had started a fishery for tarpon, kingfish, jack fish and shark. To protect their newfound livelihood, they used medium to light tackle and vigorously practiced catch and release of tarpon.

We decided to get a guide and we chose Mike Williams, owner of Tarpon Express, considered to be the best saltwater guide in the Galveston area. Never having used a local guide before, we knew he’d know about catching tarpon, where they were and most important, he was on the water chasing them every.

We met him in Galveston, at the gas station, at the corner of 69th Street and Seawall Blvd., followed him down the sixteen, miles of beachfront to San Luis Pass and launched his twenty-three footer, powered by a two hundred horse outboard. He had already picked up a supply of frozen cigar minnows that we would be using for bait. He had made the decision for us not to use artificial bait since he said the tarpon were really spread out and hadn’t been hitting artificials for the past week. That’s another reason why we hired him!

The morning was picture perfect, light southeast wind, tide rolling in bringing in the clear green Gulf water as we loaded up in the boat and motored under the San Luis Pass Bridge. Two hundred yards past the last sand bar simultaneously, Mike, Bob and I, spotted a circular slick about the size of a washtub. This usually means trout. Trout voraciously feed and while feeding, regurgitate their stomach contents and continue feeding, the slick being made by these contents floating to the surface.

Mike cut the boat back to neutral and since I was already baited up, told me, “Jon, cast right into that slick.” Casting into the slick I was rewarded by a solid strike, the fish took my bait my, but no hook up and no fish. Quickly baiting back up and casting back into the slick, this time a big fish hit my bait, headed east down the beachfront, pausing only to clear the water and expose its silver, green sides – a big tarpon!

Wow, my first real opportunity to land a big, tarpon. Having the utmost confidence in the fishing tackle, a seven foot, medium action, fiberglass rod Bob had made for me several years before, with an eighty pound, monofilament leader and twenty pound line wrapped onto a saltwater size, red reel,

The fish continued to run, then stopped, cleared the water again and just like the outdoor writers say, to create a small bit of slack in my line that acts as a cushion, I dropped my rod tip as the tarpon entered back into the water. Now, as he ran right back toward us, to keep the line tight, I reeled furiously. Another jump, another lowered rod tip, another long run, then I started to gain line as it wallowed on the surface, then Mike put a hand gaff right in the point of the tarpon’s lower jaw and I had my trophy!

Since this was only catch and release, we measured the tarpon as best we could, Bob took pictures of the fish in the water (he can’t find the picture now) and we released it to fight another day. We estimated it was sixty inches long and weighed eighty pounds! I took the measurements to a taxidermist and had a shoulder mount made up of the fish coming out of the water. The mount was displayed in my office for many years and now, Bob has it.

We continued fishing that day, caught two kingfish, a five foot, black tip shark and lost several fish when they bit through the mono leaders. We did not see or connect with another tarpon. One good thing, as we were fishing, Mike cleaned the fish, so at the end of the day, we plopped them into the cooler and headed home. Another reason why we hired him!

Morning Walk, June 21, 2011

Getting up yesterday morning and looking outside, of all things it was raining, a nice shower, but it barely moved the rain gauge.  This shower also put a halt to my morning walk, but big things are happening today because at 5:16 PM, the sun stops!  Not really stops, but the declination of the sun, it’s apparent movement south on the horizon, appears to stop before reversing back to the north (I think).  Today’s also Brad’s birthday, he would have been fifty.

Summer solstice and all, I was up early for my walk and as I glanced over at the water trough, there were two deer, taking the “shot” and thinking this would be a good movement day for them put an additional spring in my step.

After getting home and displaying the “shot”, to my surprise, two small ones, obviously born maybe six weeks ago, were hunkered down beside Mom.  Retitling my “shot” to “Three Generations Of Deer”, may be in order.

As I walked back in the side door, I was buzzed by one of our barn swallows.  They are very protective of their young and get quite offensive whenever Layla and I come near their nests.  The go berserk whenever Bo or Spike come around.  Always thinking that mockingbirds do the biggest number on pets, these little guys are poison and far exceed
mockers in aggressiveness!

Last year, this barn swallow looked so “cute” sitting up in a dead tree.

This morning, the one that buzzed me was all movement, the camera shutter wasn’t fast enough to stop it.

Thrashing Away

Back when I was in college, between studying and work, my fishing time and trips were limited, but this particular Saturday in mid June, my dad, Dub Middleton and I were cruising along the Houston Ship Channel, out in the middle of Galveston Bay, hoping to spot a flock of sea gulls hovering and splashing down into the water, a sure sign of speckled trout feeding on shrimp.  The specs push the shrimp toward the surface, the birds spot the shrimp dimpling the water and sweep in to pick up an easy meal and us fishermen, then cast into the feeding frenzy and tie into some monster specs.  Easy fishing if you can find the birds!

All of us saw this cabin cruiser wallowing along the ship channel, we hadn’t found any birds so far that morning, but we saw what looked like a flock hitting the water behind the far off boat.  Full speed ahead, we rushed toward the birds, and to our surprise, they were working right behind the cruiser and the occupants were thrashing the water with cane poles.  Funniest thing we ever saw, but we assumed they were fishing?

We didn’t see them catching any fish, so casting among the birds we tied into three nice ones.  After several waltzes around Dub’s boat, we iced them down, at least two pounders.  The folks fishing on the big boat never said a word to us, if it’d been me, I would’ve tried to run us off!  Casting back out, more strikes, until we boated eighteen, nice specs, almost filling our cooler!

This old picture shows the day’s catch of specs and is one of the first ever taken of fish we had caught.

With a good mess of fish, we moved on, the cruiser people were still thrashing away, fishing I guessed, but I never saw them catch a fish!

Morning Walk, June 17, 2011

Two morning walks this week and other than the sweat, not much wildlife was seen.  Several reasons for this are daytime temps are over a hundred, the moon is full and if the deer move, they move at night and probably the most important, we are still under a severe drought.  We haven’t had much rain in over a year, we’ve sold all the cattle because there’s no grass and even the Johnson grass in the field has stopped growing!

On my walk on the 14th, Tuesday, one deer, a doe, stopped in the middle of the road and let me get this “shot”.

But during my walk this morning I spied a really different snake, one that I’d never seen before and didn’t even know of the breed.  Taking these “shots” of it, as soon I got home I Yahoo’d it and came up with this answer from eHow.com.  “The typical ringneck snake is between 10 and 15 inches in length and quite thin. The various subspecies are dark gray on top and yellow to orange underneath, with the slender yellow and sometimes orange ring encircling the neck.”  Now I know that this kind of snake lives around here and at least it doesn’t bite!
    

Yes, I Yahoo’d it instead of Googling because I heard this morning on Fox News that  Google had been caught kicking back money to obama’s campaign!  They have denied it, of course!

The Tripod

Meeting my barber, Joe Riley, at his Sugar Land, Texas home, we drove on down to the San Barnard River, actually where it crosses the Intercoastal Waterway, to have a go at some trout and redfish. We were going to fish in a new spot for me a place Joe called The Tripod. He said it was a good spot and we wouldn’t be troubled with other folks fishing there.

From the bait camp we bought live shrimp, ice, drinks, snacks and launched my boat for the two mile run, west on the Intercoastal, there we would turn into a little cut, not fifty yards wide, that opened up in a small, shallow bay. In the middle of the bay, I found out a few minutes later, was a gas well with a triangle shaped sign, hence, The Tripod.

As we entered the cut, Joe guided me to the left where he quietly slipped the anchor into the shallow, barely three foot, water. The tide was coming in toward us, bringing in green, fishy looking, water and, just perfect, the wind was at out backs, making casting easy! Cast toward the right of the cut and, keeping the line tight, let the current drift our rigs back over the fishing area, a reef along the right side. Today we’d be using standard popping gear, six and a half foot rods, fifteen, pound line wrapped on red reels and a popping cork, but today was a little different. Instead of using a three to four foot leader under the corks, our leader was only fifteen or eighteen inches and no popping either.

Getting the feel of this new style of fishing, I cast out and began the drift with no results, but Joe, having cast out before me, was fast into a nice something that was stripping line from his reel. That something turned out to be a three, pound redfish that I netted, Joe took out the hook and boxed it, remarking, “I didn’t tell you the secret. When your cork stops and acts hung up, set the hook because a fish has just picked up the shrimp.”

The secret being out, my next cast scored, the cork stopped, I set the hook and was into something that was splashing at the surface, probably a trout that turned out to be barely a keeper, fourteen, inches then. Swinging the trout into the boat, I grabbed it, took out the hook and boxed it too. We kept catching small trout and Joe mentioned, “Over the years I’ve fished here a lot, but never have caught a trout over two pounds and often, I’ve wondered why?” Having fished the same spot for almost five years, we never caught a big trout there either!

Later in the morning I cast out, drifted my shrimp above the reef, my cork stopped and I reared back, setting the hook and the fish took off, stripping line off my reel. After a grudging fight, Joe slipped the net under a big flounder that on my hand held scale was just over four pounds, a new record for flatfish for me! This was a real bonus, a big flounder that would be delicious baked. For me, this spot turned out to be a flounder haven where I boxed several that were over eight pounds, whoppers! We ended the day with thirty-two fish in the cooler, flounder, reds and specs! Not bad for a new to me spot and I certainly will come back.

Over the years we had some excellent catches from The Tripod, but moving away and on our trips back I never had time to try it out, but after I returned to Houston, one afternoon, with the tide coming in Mac Windsor and I decided to check it out. Motoring west of the San Bernard River on the “Intercoastal” we started looking to our left for the channel leading to The Tripod. Not there and no Tripod either. We came about and began searching back toward the river and it was still not there.

Motoring all the way to Karancuha Bay, five or six miles, still no channel. All we saw was a spot on the south side of the Intercoastal where it was extra wide. We came about again and motored to the bait camp where the river and Intercoastal crossed and asked the owner, “Where’s that little cut, that channel leading back to the gas rig, The Tripod?” “Not there,” he answered. “A while back, that gas well blew up and rearranged everything. We call it the Blow Out Hole now. Good fishing in the winter!”

Now I found out why we never saw another boat there!

Morning Walk, June 13, 2011

The last few morning walks have been pictureless with no deer or any other wildlife holding still long enough for a “shot”.  Having seen, bucks, doe and a gray fox whetted my appetite, but they wouldn’t sit still!

This morning was different, not two hundred yards into my walk, there was a doe, but she already had her tail up and after my first “shot” she took off into the thick stuff, still with her tail up.
     
Just before the three quarter mile mark, my turn around point, up on a wire was a lone dove, a male by his long tail.  He was sitting up there enjoying the sunrise and to my surprise, upon displaying the picture, the sun was reflecting off of his buff colored breast.

Overall a good morning, some wildlife pictures and I worked up a good sweat!

The Uninitiated

During the time we lived in the Atlanta area, two of the summers we met the Schroder family, Jake, Peg and their three children, in Galveston and rented a very large beach house.  The house we rented in 1978 was in Jamaica Beach and sported seven bedrooms, four baths and a large communal area, a true mansion!  We had met the Schroders when we lived in Arizona and both families being from Texas had hit it off from the start, enjoying many great quail and dove hunting trips and fishing excursions.  A couple of stories of interest are my posts, “[The Kamikaze Dove]”, September 7, 2010, and “[A Meeting With Senior Mal-De-Mere]”, August 24, 2009.

This particular trip, during the peak of the speckled trout, birding season was memorable because of the unusual way we found the day’s last bird school.  We had been fishing almost all of the morning east of Karankawa Reef, driving back and forth across the bay and only finding two bird schools.  The first we found was full of small trout, below keeper size, but they were fun to catch.  But in the second, Jake and I relieved the school of three nice trout, two plus, pounders, more fun to catch!

We decided to refresh our shrimp so we threw out the leftovers we had bought in the morning, and since mid day was nearing, we motored over to the Pleasure Island Bait Camp and acquired a fresh quart.  We took this opportunity to stretch our legs and buy us a Coke and some cheese crackers.  After the break we talked it over and thought we’d try the area east of the causeway and, showing off, as we entered the channel and I put the boat up on plane, I took a sharp right, to the uninitiated this looked like a turn into real shallow water, but knowing the bottom, we had a minimum of four feet below the hull.

As we sped toward the first of the two causeways, Jake said, “Beech, I shore hope you know where you’re goin’?”  I knew, but might as well have some fun.  Barely slowing down we scooted under the third hump in the first causeway and headed for the causeway for trains, where I did slow the boat down as we crept under the third arch.  And there, not fifty feet out from the causeway was a huge school of birds working over the shrimp driven to the surface, the trout were even splashing as they chased the bait!

Cutting back the motor and turning the boat to the right I managed not to run through the birds that would have surely scattered them and dispersed the fish!  Baiting up and casting out to the front of the birds we both had heavy hits and right away began the “West Bay Shuffle” around the boat.  These two were big, unyielding trout that finally succumbed to the rods pressure and the black, reels drag.  Netting both fish simultaneously in my one net, we admired them, three and a half pounders, into the cooler with them, we baited up and cast back out.  Two more strikes, two more specs, not quite as big as the first two and into the cooler with them.

We stayed with this school of trout for twenty minutes and when they dispersed we had boxed twenty-two, all over two and a half pounds!  We hunted and hunted for the fish, but with the tide coming in strong they had probably moved on into West Bay.  Thinking back, the trout had cornered the shrimp in shallow water, three feet plus, up against the berm of the railroad track and were feasting on them, the seagulls spotted this top water action and the feed was on!

Just think, if I’d gone blasting through the third arch, we’d run right through the birds and the fish school.  But in all of my fishing and the many times I’d gone through this way into the bay east of the causeway, I never found a school of birds and speckled trout at this spot.

He’ll Have To Wait

As the sun just peaked over the horizon we spied a huge school of birds swarming over the water between us and the Pelican Island Bridge. This early in the morning, it was unusual for birds to be working and in twenty minutes we were supposed to meet Dewey Stringer at the end of the South Jetty for a trip out to the Buccaneer Rigs, what to do?

We, Norman Shelter, Jim Buck and I had bought bait and launched the boat at Pleasure Island Bait Camp and were heading out to meet Dewey for a day of offshore angling, but seeing the birds working, he’ll have to wait, as we cut the motors back and idled up to towards the big swarm. For our offshore trip we would be using standard trout gear with a wire leader, but without a popping cork. Our rods were six and half feet long, with red reels loaded with fifteen, pound line and as we eased up to the birds, we quickly removed the wire leaders and slipped on our trout rigs.

A lot of birds working shrimp in deeper water, ten to twelve feet, could mean one of two things, good size speckled trout or small bluefish. Our first casts toward the birds resulted in two good strikes and the fish fighting on the top of the water and circling the boat, confirmed that these were big, trout!

Not having baited up, I netted both fish for Jim and Norman, two nice four pounders! As they were removing the hooks and boxing their fish, I quickly baited up, cast out and as the bait hit the water, it was hit immediately, jerking the rod almost out of my hand. Big trout are fun, these summer fish will smash a lure or a shrimp with reckless abandon, fight all the way to the boat and are excellent table fare! My fish another 4 pounder, circled and as I reeled it in, beat the water around the boat to a froth. Jim netted it and as I slipped it into the cooler looked down at my watch, we were late to meet Dewey.

Trying to call him on the CB radio, with the distance and Galveston’s buildings blocking everything out, was useless, so we kept on fishing. Over an hour later, we had boxed twenty-five real nice specs, two to four pounds, so much for meeting Dewey. Calling him that night, they had caught several nice kingfish, some small dolphin (dorado) out of a weed line and tied up to an oilrig, loaded up on spadefish, so much for meeting him, but we both had good days!