Tag Archives: small streams

Planted Near Running Water

“Happy the man who does not read advertisements,/ does not listen to their radios/ does not believe their slogans. He will be a tree planted near running water.” — Ernesto Cardenal Often in times of social and political turmoil, I’ll … Continue reading

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Operation Perdigon

I’d intended to fish the brook ever since a friend indicated that his son had looked for trout there years ago. Through my decades of digging into local history, especially with regard to native fish populations, I had never seen … Continue reading

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River SCOP Rambles

Scop, you say? Well, my dictionary defines the word as a bard, or poet, of the Anglo-Saxon days in ancient England. I was drawn to the word and to the scop’s role in medieval time because of the pandemic and … Continue reading

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The Wild Trout Throw a Party

I woke up around 3:15 a.m. with several lines of silly thought reverberating in my head. For better or worse, these lines may have given impetus for this latest post. One of them was close to a throw-away: “We’ve got … Continue reading

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Winter Spring

Mid-February, and I track through the snow toward a big spring in the hills. I’d follow the deer prints but it’s easier to step inside the wheel ruts of an ATV. I read new promise in the strengthening light. Grouse … Continue reading

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Jumping the Back Fence

Wild Boy Run was named for Lewis “Wild Boy” Stevens who settled on the Pennsylvania mountain stream in 1842.  Born to alcoholic and abusive parents, Stevens “jumped the back fence” of his home (in New Jersey) at age eleven and … Continue reading

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Thinking Like a Creek

1. Stumbling from the lean-to late one night, relieve an aching bladder. Stars shine brightly through the broken canopy of Baxter wilds. I think of The Maine Woods by Thoreau: “In the night I dreamed of trout fishing.” Silence, like … Continue reading

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Panther Run

I’ll call the small stream “Panther Run.” This Pine Creek tributary, once renowned for mountain lion sightings, is now a freestone tumbler that’s unwilling to reveal its actual moniker. I fished the run initially on a sparkling day in May, … Continue reading

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An Old-Fashioned Hike

I spent several hours hiking from the house to the forestland of brooks, the big hill calling me despite its foot-deep snow, my feet complaining for the lack of skis or snowshoes, the chill of March protesting winter’s age and … Continue reading

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Old Woodenhead’s Wish

[In this rapidly changing world of ours, I’m glad that some things are relatively stable and unchanging. For example, it’s December and the winter snow and ice are here again, and Old Woodenhead (my alter-ego of December’s Holi-Daze) has made … Continue reading

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