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Ronan's report


Saturday September 26th, 2009

On the shores of Lake Chihuahua, gateway to Polar Bear Wilderness, we gazed out across the water. Past the 20 yards of dirt, the water sitting at some major fraction like 1/2 rather than a moderate percentage. Past the calm shallows where the fry dimple the surface and part like blades of grass in the wind. Past the shelf where the water turns to a deep grey blue and occasional rises betrayed an opportunistic hunger. Past the breadth of fathoms deeper, a group of tubers diligently pulled their buggers and hairy leaches.

They were working 'the far side', always the place to be. We strung up and threw a few ants out over 'the near side', territory of the lawn chair, cooler and flip-lock tackle box, oblidging both the fish and our need for a quick fix after the drive. It came quick and sweet as we balanced on the few stones that kept us from sinking in up to our ankles in muck. It was our first chance at the pigeon pond thunderbows, near perfectly silver, ages aclimated to the alkali waters of these terminus and draught-prone lakes, hardly showing a trace of the crimson band worn by their cousins just over the summit. They swam off with a flip and pout. We might have gotten a few more there, but the wind was kicking up, and this water wasn't our goal for the day. Years ago in a hope for preservation, all the little pot and volcanic lakes that littered this plateau had received an airbourne or horseback delivery of these vigorous thunderbows.

The rest of the days hours led us out and around a few more small lakes, from frog ponds to deep stone bowls, and while we were keeping our eye out for fish, there was also another quary. This wilderness was establish to help protect it, a small little hunter creature sort of like a fox crossed with a weasel. Historical references mentioned that the early settlers in the area found these little guys well... Exceptionally Tasty, more so than deer or any other local game so that ate them. Ate damn near all of them!

The hiking and fishing time got me thinking about that a little bit. Suppose you're a little lower in the food chain, there's pretty much one thing you don't want to be, and that's "damn tasty". Coupled with a nice soft furry coat and a curious personality... cute and tasty. The good news is they're doing fine now. Apparently not quite so curious anymore; we never caught a glimpse.

Eric


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