I don’t know why, I have not really put my heart into fishing since my cat, Ringo died. I was reminded of him today when my high school friend and incredible Author, teacher, and Photographer, David Ulrich had an article about his cat dying and what these animals bring into our lives.  He’s very eloquent and philosophical in his thoughts.    http://theslenderthread.creativeguide.com/blog/?p=1032
It made me stop and think of my Ringo, I miss him each day.       So I thought maybe it was time to go out and fish. The night was so perfect, the sun sliding down, the sky growing with a tinge of pink, why not throw out a line?

The cranes were down by the water and walked toward me thinking I had food for them, when I walked past them, they began their silly dancing. I always enjoy their fancy footwork, and watched them put on their show,
     Above me crows came in a ‘murder’, caw-cawing as hundreds passed overhead, reflecting near my bobber in the water. They were headed to the south.          Ibis flew in patterns, first they were all in a line, then someone wanted to be the leader and they fell out of order. The cranes flew across the lake too and stood on a mud island.  Turtles were too anxious to take my hook. I could see their shifty eyes surface looking to see where I was throwing bread. I had to anticipate how fast it would be till they got near my hook so I could pull it out without hoking them.
       I watch them, they watch me, it’s a constant stare down!  Until I caught a bass close to shore, it look my bread almost as soon as the hook sunk.      I took it’s pic and looked it in the eye and assured it I was not keeping it to eat before tossing it back. About that time, maybe resulting from the big splash, a heron came out of nowhere, a heron who must know how I operate. It sat high in a tree grooming itself and waiting. That’s what used to make fishing fun, when the herons and Ringo would almost ‘tangle’ over the fish I caught. This was a heron who had to be familiar with my generosity.  I assumed it was one of the previous nesters that come to lay their eggs in the nests in my trees, they are aware of me being a pushover.

I looked around, across at Sonja’s house and the way it reflected off the still water in the late afternoon, it was a still-life beautifully framed by the sky and water and trees.      Then a hard tug on my line and I thought I hooked a shiner, but after a good fight through the lilypads, it was a nice sized bream and the excited heron followed me around anxiously as I unhooked it and let the excited heron fly off with it’s dinner to the neighbors little marsh.    As I wound up my line, I smiled. Luna was busy flashing around near trees, she respects these big birds on her territory.     She had earlier had a run in with the crane family.

I realize I had missed the peace of no TV, no election,  no Facebook or social outlets. I had missed the isolation; forgetting the pace of human life to enjoy this easy leisure that presents itself so generously when one is lucky enough to have a little waterfront, (and no, I didn’t see a gator.)  It’s tranquilizing, nature as Xanax, I stand still as bird traffic wings overhead, hurrying in their rush hour to get back to their nests before the dark. I watch heads pop up out of the water like periscopes waiting to mooch. Fish break the surface going after other fish. Soon it will be otter time, always love a good otter sighting. The fishing still makes me feel guilty, though I love watching the heron spread their wings and come walking toward me for their catch. It’s so so simple, it’s so Walt Whitman, easy and nice and comforting. This is what I had missed. And of course, I still miss Ringo not being a part of it, but Luna has proved her worth as a hunter, she regularly brings rats and mice, birds, lizards and frogs and presents them to her big sister Sasha out of cat respect for age.

Last night I was so excited by trying to plug into Jupiter with my camera, zooming in and out, trying hard to get that planet to dismiss the great distance and atmosphere and find it’s way into the box on my viewfinder and then press and have it come out as a planet with moons and not blobs. The moon too was waning and through the lens looked so beautiful with the lumps and bumps, I have to linger over the moonscape, it makes me wonder how it looked as those big meteors rammed into the surface blasting out their niches. 
I am too simple loving this the way I do, but maybe it’s really a privilege to enjoy such simplicity of  having a simple mind and the camera’s lens to share it.  

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