Free Men Free Minds"I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man." – Thomas Jefferson
It’s that time of year, up at my trout camp, when the first big bugs of the season hatch. During the day. These bugs, Green Drakes, entice big trout to rise, sometimes with abandon. The challenge, though, is the water they hatch from is crystal clear and low, and though a trout’s brain is tiny, the water clarity right now intensifies the challenge to entice the trout to your fly, even if the trout at times rise with abandon.
I do my best to recite a favorite reminder of God’s graciousness each morning immediately after waking. Psalm 118:24 –
This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.
Now, I will not pretend that this is always easy to accomplish on a day to day basis, but I do think attempting to put one’s mind into the frame of thought suggested by that verse can positively affect one’s day.
I thought of this just know when I read a recent post by Ann Barnhardt, titled If you find yourself worried or anxious, I found an incredible astrophysics factoid that helps us to contemplate the infinitude, power and LOVE of God., and I think it ties in nicely with the thought expressed in Psalm 118:24. Ann’s post begins with the words from Psalm 45:1, words which also reinforce the words of Psalm 118:24, and delve into the vastness of the universe created by Him, and the occurence of supernovas. Worth one’s time to read all of Ann’s post.
Below, are a couple of photos of a spot I like to sit and watch for rising trout on our little trout camp crick. Though the waters may look shallow in the clarity of the bright sunlight, their depths can be deceiving. And the dark shadows along the undercut banks can hold big trout.
Late last Fall, after a month’s absence from trout camp, my brother and I ventured up to tarp off our trailer rigs for the winter. As we usually do, we walked the property to check for sign, and naturally wandered the bank of the creek to see if we could see any trout, or their redds from the spawn. We didn’t see any trout, but we did see a few redds, and much to our surprise and consternation, we found that the beavers had built a bank lodge under the dead spruce on the bank.
The spruce has seen its share nature’s furies, losing its top fifteen or so years ago in a huge storm, and acquiring a lean of Tower of Pisa angles. It survived its decapitation, sprouting four competing growths for domination of the crown, but then started to fail. I don’t know if its decapitation contributed to its slow death, or its root ball’s loss of grip to the ground, but it’s definitely dead.
Our consternation with this Dead Spruce Lodge of the beavers’ results from beavers 20 or so years ago taking down almost every poplar on our trout camp property, so we had them trapped out. I tried to find a woodsman to trap these new beaver residents out, but because there is no money in trapping beavers, and overall lack of interest in trapping beavers simply as a past time, the beavers wintered over and have been having their way with poplars, young cherry tree saplings, and other small trees up and down the crick. Their sign is every where I venture.
Dead Spruce Lodge’s inhabitants are a mother, father and one kit, and I have had a number of encounters with them already this trout season. I’ve been cannonballed by both the mom and the dad beaver, and even the kit has done his best impression of a large beaver’s cannonball at me while I stood in the creek fishing. I’ve also watched one of the large beavers swimming underwater downstream while I was fishing a run. It looked like a big brown blimp flying underwater.
I guess Dead Spruce Lodge will be occupied for some time, or until the dead spruce keels over and into the crick, which will present us with a whole nother problem. There is one positive aspect, though, of the Dead Spruce Lodge. It’s also a great hide for big trout. A regular trout hotel.
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My trusty rod I cherish so,
Is ready for the fray,
All polished up from tip to butt
To greet the opening day.
The boots are not just what they were,
Perhaps, not what they seem;
But patches help to navigate
A few more miles of stream.
The dainty, gaudy, little flies
Once more have seen the light;
For half the fun of fishing
Is to see which one they’ll bite,
Or to argue with the other chap
Who thinks he has the dope;
Yet most the anglers that I know
Just put one on and hope.
I’m hankering for the tang of pines,
For crooked trails that lead
Into the forest’s tranquil heart
Where springs the rivers feed,
Clear, sparkling, crystal rivers
Forever on their way.
Man, they just take my troubles
And bear them all away.
As long as I can cast a fly
And watch it swiftly glide
O’er ripples, murmuring a song,
Where speckled beauties hide,
As long as pine and balsam shed
Their fragrance for mankind,
I shall find real joy in fishing,
And leave all care behind.
Arnold J. Copeland
Permalink & CommentThough I am of the opinion that all members of Congress are criminal and scumbags, 13 percent of them have somehow been able to keep their names out of the mainstream media narratives.
A laundry list of your representatives scummery.
36 have been accused of spousal abuse.
7 have been arrested for fraud.
19 have been accused of writing bad checks.
117 have directly bankrupted 2 businesses.
3 have done time for assault.
71 cannot get a credit card.
14 have been arrested on drug related charges.
8 have been arrested for shoplifting.
21 are currently involved in lawsuits.
84 have been arrested for drunk driving in the last year.
So, out of 435 members of congress, 380 of them, which is 87 percent of them, are mere criminals, scumbags, or both, and if one votes, well, these are the people you voted for, and allegedly represent you.
Via a post at Daily Pundit titled Mind Blower. Post is a 56 second video.
Permalink & CommentCitizen Free Press has a link up to a Twitter thread of Michelle Tandler wherein she is bemoaning the rampant homelessness and crime in San Francisco, and justifiably so when you consider what happens on the streets of San Francisco in this day and age.
Tandler tweets out a litany of San Francisco ills, bemoans the loss of manly men, ponders if vigilantism should become a thing in San Francisco once again, and more. But it is the final words of Michelle Tandler’s final tweet in the thread which makes me question whether she actually is living in reality, regardless of her Linkedin profile, or is simply an addled individual who is living in a fantasy world.
“I’m going to ask ChatGPT.”
Seriously, Michelle Tandler? You’re going to ask ChatGPT for advice on what you should do in regards to the problems you’re having in a major city which in actuality is the center for grifting in the State of California and turns a blind eye to criminality and rampant drug use on the street? Does she not understand that ChatGPT is simply a regurgitator/plagiarist of previously written words programmed by human hands to sift away actual solutions and further instill stupidity into the general population? If you’re going to ask ChatGPT for advice, Michelle Tandler, you may as well attempt to program a street cleaner sized Roomba to clean up all the needles and feces off the streets of San Francisco.
Permalink & CommentIsraeli Archaeologists Find 6000-year-old Metal Fishhook, and It’s for Sharks
Permalink & CommentMost individuals are somewhat dismayed when bugs begin coming out when Spring’s grip begins to take hold over Winter. Not flyfishers, and as an avid flyfisher I have to admit that seeing the first hatch of black stoneflies on our creek this past week was a celebratory moment. I only noted about a half-dozen of them hatching, beginning about 3 p.m. in the afternoon, and on only one afternoon out of seven, but I was so pleased to take note of this that I sat at the creek’s edge for almost 2 hours simply noting where they emerged from, and hoping to possibly see a trout rise to take one as a meal.
While I did not get to see a trout rise to take a black stonefly, I did note a few trout moving in the creek to feed, though rather lethargically because Winter’s grip remains rather firm on northern Michigan waters.
Bugs! Yea!
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