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Karl Seckinger

Two Harbors, Minn.


I had to listen to the fact man, and when it went beyond what I could tolerate I got up, and left. “All who wander are not lost” is about the quoted words and the last part of that line should be added that “some truly are” and for good reason. If you must have a sidewalk, you can’t come with me. If it’s all black and white in your world, my grey spaces would find you, alone. In my head it’s nice to know those unicorns and dragons, the good dragons and the bad have just as much a chance as mermaids and a yeti. After too many facts some try, some succeed in others and its spoils the broth. My primordial soup has a much thicker sauce. I have laid in summer grass with eyes closed feeling the warm sun go across my face and through the meadow and maybe heard the foot falls of mischievous elves. Sat in a breeze just after sunset, air is misted in a coolness and out of my peripheral vision, was that a bit of fairy light darting back into the taller grass as to be almost unseen by me? A dark shadow crosses my path behind me and I swiftly turn in the pine coned trail to listen for a branch to crack, a limb to sway and the hair on the back of my neck goes stiff. Something was there, something massive soundless and watching me, eyeing my whereabouts, but what. I bend, I look, I search only to find no tracks, in the moss to reveal its earthen or other nature. From a rock promontory in a sunny bright day, high up in a cliff I watch the birds soar, these talon’d falcons float as I drift off mentally with them into an aerial wonder. From below me comes a low guttural growl. My mind slams my body back to the solid rock I sit atop and I scan below as the feeling of sound, a sound perhaps admonishing me to the fact that I may not be a welcome visitor. Its echo chases again up the rock face into mine. Ghouls, souls of animals, water phantoms, things not yet discovered by the scientists, luckily for me untrained to even look for. I like my woods and waters, there’s much more to mine. The trout whisperer

made in China

During World War Two, many records were kept, including one that caught my eye. From the vast resources of the USA, and the USA alone, Total vessels sunk, one thousand five hundred and fifty four, in the various oceans, due to various actions. Over 500 of these ships were rated exceeding one hundred gross tons. That’s allot of stuff and that’s a lot a stuff on the ocean floor. What’s even more unimaginable is that many nations to include, but not limited to, Britain, Japan, Canada, Italy, China, Germany, Australia and so on and so down the line, lost an unfathomable number of ships airplanes and so on, that rest forever in Davey jones locker. No mention of a ship being sunk during the war in any of our inland ten thousand lakes however. So why all the snagging losses below me in so many waters of azure blue. Case in point, Whitefish lake, superior national forest, in one day, on one afternoon of fishing, myself, with two others guys drop the anchor only never to see the light of day again. By the end of that day we donated two anchors. Were sure something down there latched onto them and kept them locked to the bottom. And when you cut the anchor line not once but twice, and lose all that rope, it’s just salt in the wound to boot. It’s called jigging, it’s been shown to be very effective to catch walleyes over certain rocky drop offs and reefs. Whitefish lake is a honey hole of rocky reefs and what the jig manufactures don’t tell you is it’s a heck of a way to get your very own pet rock if you can hoist one to the surface which I’ve never been able to do so I lose yet another one. And the last one I lose is the only color working today. Makes me pause, makes me wonder, so if I know where all the good junk in this oceanly wet world is, why is it I just snagged and lost the last lure I had today fishing in an inland lake. I’m not going to take up scuba diving in the ocean any time soon but I may start in some of the more plied waters of Minnesota and get some of not only my tackle, but maybe some good stuff others have accidently donated over the years and I don’t mind if it was made in China, I just want it back. The trout whisperer http://flyrod58.wordpress.com/

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