Afternoon Tea – Cows; No Cream
I recently returned home from my annual trout fishing
trip to the southwestern part of Wisconsin.
This corner of the state is known as the “Driftless Region” is noted for
its steep hills and valleys that survived because the series of glaciers that formed
most of what is now Wisconsin did not push this far south. Gin-clear and cold streams run through the
floors of many of these valleys and those streams are full of wild trout that
are thick across the shoulders and on-average bigger and heavier than those in
the streams and rivers of my home territory in northeast Wisconsin.
I have made an appointment with myself and my fly rod
to indulge in the pursuit of those bronze brown trout at the tale end of the
season for a number of years now. I have
sound reasons for scheduling my trip to the Driftless at the end of
September. First, since my school
teacher wife is back in the classroom, I feel a little less guilty about
leaving her behind for several days.
Second is that I have found the weather in the last week of September to
be simply beautiful. I can count on
most, sometimes, like this year, even all of the days to have cool mornings, bright
blue skies, warming temperatures as the sun climbs, and few mosquitos. One begins to experience the mellowness of
early Autumn. Thirdly, other signs of
autumn like the first splashes of color of turning leaves dot the ridges. Fourth, traditionally the end of September
marked the end of trout season and the beginning of hunting seasons, so many
outdoor enthusiasts have shifted focus and I have found that this is the best
time to have many of these popular streams to myself. Lastly, trout spawn in the fall as the water
cools and this time of year they are colored even more brilliantly than summer,
and they are fairly aggressive. All
those points are considered “star alignment” for an avid trout fisher.
The cabin that I had rented for this year’s adventure
is actually on one of my favorite streams to fish. I was excited because this was a stretch of
water that I hadn’t fished before as all of my fishing on this particular
stream had been further upstream. I
wasted little time upon arrival; I brought everything in from the truck but
didn’t take any time to unpack anything other than the food that need to go in
the fridge or freezer. I pulled my
waders on, readied my rod and headed out across the cow pasture to the
stream. I did see that there were cows,
but they were all on the far end of the 80-acre pasture. I found the fish as I had hoped – hungry and
eager for some tug of war. I fished
until dark.
My excitement was enough, so no alarm clock was
necessary to roust me from bed in the predawn hours for morning prayer,
breakfast and to pack a lunch and fill water bottles. The plan was a 30-minute drive to a stream
that I had discovered the year before. I
am well aware that my tendency is to stick with what I know; I am a creature of
habit. That’s what took me so long to
even try fishing this area of the state in the first place. But the last couple of years I have made
myself promise to try at least one new stream.
Sometimes it’s a bust, but last year’s discovery was a gem. It didn’t let me down this year either – the
trout were eager. It took me all of the
morning to fish back out to the road and walk back down to my truck. I munched sandwiches and plotted the
afternoon assault on another stream.
That too turned out to be a wise choice, so it was dusk, actually nearly
dark before I headed back to the truck and drove back to my rental for a shower
and a supper.
The plan on day three was to fish a used-to-be
favorite of mine. Because of the
topography of the Driftless area the streams can all be subject to flooding in
any significant rainfall. This river was
my original favorite, probably because this is where I caught the largest
inland water trout of my life – a strong 20.5-inch brown. The following year when I returned, I found
that a summer flash flood had deposited about two feet of mud over the stream
bed and rendered the stretch unfishable.
This year I was pleased to see that the river has recovered nicely and
had scoured the mud back down to gravel.
I knew from the first access point it would take me
about four hours to fish back out to the road.
All went as planned and after an excellent start to the day I hiked back
to the truck to eat lunch. The day was very sunny and it was a hot hike –
especially with waders that felt like tar paper. By the time I made it to the truck I was
dripping with sweat. My shirt couldn’t
have been wetter if I had fallen in. As
I sat on the tail gate and ate my lunch it occurred to me that maybe – just
maybe – I was trying too hard to cram an entire trout season into four
days. I had two choices: I could drive
up the road two miles to the second access point and fish hard through the 80+
degree afternoon; or, I could drive back to the cabin and take a breather. I decided on the latter.
After a refreshing shower and a change into dry light
shorts and t-shirt I grabbed a book that I had brought along, poured a tall
glass of brewed ice tea and headed out the back door of the cabin. A couple of tall blue spruces spread a blanket of
shade for me and I situated a comfortable lawn chair in the middle of the shade and the afternoon
breeze where I could look up from my book across the pasture to the stream
running by.
The book was Matthew Kelly’s – Life is Messy. I came across this on page 50: “Life isn’t a
race. This is one of those
quintessential lessons that we all hear at different times in our lives. We say to ourselves, “Got it”. But we don’t.
Enjoy the journey. Another one of
those life lessons. We tell ourselves,
“Got it”. But we don’t. We continue to rush around like
maniacs.” I smiled. Every time I see myself, I look funny! To hammer the lesson home every 20 minutes or
so a car came speeding down the county road that wound through the valley the
cabin sits in. Everyone was going
fast, accelerating into every little bit of straight road out of every
curve. Even people who live in beautiful
places can live life in a hurry.
It was about this time that I saw that the herd of
cows had grazed their way to my side of the pasture. I refilled my tea and one of the cows – a
black angus, noticed me. Cows are
naturally curious, so I wasn’t surprised when it headed closer to check me
out. Of course, then a second and a
third cow noticed the first and worried about what they may have been missing, so
they followed. Soon the entire herd was
headed in my direction. It was a bit
comical as they lined up along the fence about 30 yards away to engage me a
stare-down contest. I greeted them, “Good
afternoon”. The cows just stared and
chewed and did other cow stuff that is unnecessary to document. Cows aren’t much for conversation. This went on for about 30 minutes, mostly I
think because the shade of the trees I was under by now stretched out past the
fence. Eventually though one of them had
the idea to see what the grass down the fence line tasted like and the rest, one-by-one, eventually followed. They were in no particular
hurry.
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
Photo by Antonio Groß on Unsplash
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