Indian Mountain State Park had their first purple martin on March 14. I noted the deeply colored, forked tail little feller’ right off while I was partaking of my lunch. Goodness! The gourds were rocking in a stiff breeze, and a cold one to boot. The thermometer in my old truck read 35 degrees. Martins have good insulating feathers like most birds. This particular scout, just having flown from one hemisphere to the other in the last few weeks, has a weakness though. Purple martins feed solely on the wing on flying insects. So, until we have some warmer days to put insects on the wing once again, he’s going to be one hungry purple martin.
Last Thursday, I ventured to the river with fishing pole in hand for the first time in 2023. I had a brand-new pole that had not ever had the feel of a fish fight tingle through its eyelets. It is a replacement for the best fishing rod I ever had, one Yvonne had gotten me for Christmas several years ago. Oh, the adventures I had with it before I snapped its spine maneuvering on an ATV. Luckily, the manufacturer has a lifetime replacement deal, free of charge from any defects, but with a pretty good deal still, even if an angler tears the device up in an idiotic fashion as I had done.
After some green casts from a winter’s worth of non-fishing activities, I settled a lure about where I thought a fish ort’ uh’ be. Shazam! I had a few pretty good tussles with finned critters over the next half-hour. It was shirt-sleeve weather and the riverine environment was so pleasant. I did note a lot of structure changes to familiar places from the recent flooding. Old Man River is always at work, rearranging, sculpting, and altering his banks and currents, and things unseen under the water’s surface.
While the almanac said the signs were good, Yvonne and I planted potatoes. As usual, freshly plowed soil produced a fine aroma. A little rain fell in the night on the potato-patch-to-be. Now the weather has taken a turn and the chill of late winter is back. Snowflakes have flown and frost is back in the forecast for several mornings. Spring fever is hard to combat in late winter though. Once the bug bites ya’ there is little that can be done. Visions of growing all manors of produce and flowers has infected Yvonne and I.
Roxie Blue the Weimaraner has changed gears so to speak. Roxie has made a rather large forest hound, nigh on a hundred pounds. She has had some separation anxiety issues when Yvonne gets out of her sight. I suspected she would never take to the woods and fields with me. However, in the last couple of months she has done just that.
She has been a much more settled Weimaraner after mountain outings. She can hardly wait for me to get ready to take her afield when I get home in the evenings. Alice the Bird Dawg’ has been teaching her the ropes of the outdoors. Alice is almost thirteen now and she is slowing down while Roxie is just winding up. There is joy and sadness in such things when one dabbles in dogdom. What a fantastic outdoor partner Alice has been, and remains! That little setter’s odometer would have a phenomenal reading if it could be enumerated.
As Robert Ruark, famous American author, columnist and outdoorsman once said: “Never knew a man not to be improved by a dog.”
Mark J. Tidwell is librarian in Jellico.
