I saw a very rare sight today (relatively up close, that is). There was a bird- either a gold eagle or hawk (not sure which), sitting in the middle of the road getting ready to take off with its prey. I saw it on a qiet road on my way back from my parents house! Last time I saw something like that, was at some nature thing where a ranger was talking about animals, but that bird was "tame" (loosely speaking, of course).
strange but impactful moments in nature
- Thread starter mrhnau
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Simon Curran
2nd Black Belt
One that immediately springs to mind is diving in the Carribbean to the edge of the Cayman Trench, something about being in 40 meters of water and looking down to nothing but a couple of miles of blackness kind of puts things into perspective in an awe inspiring, jaw dropping, oh my word look at that sort of way...
men dont ALWAYS have to wax their legsLisa said:Yup, thats you... I can tell by the color of your legs
hey, i dont believe you guys arent talking about the wacky paki earthquake!
it wiped 40 thou
that's is some IMPACTFUL moments in nature!
they say 95% of the city is gone and it cannot be revived, the UN said the situation is hopeless, the 200,000 inhabitants are all believed to be gone dead or homeless
Ee gads! I could fill this thread up pretty quick. Given that the area that I live is right in the thick of some of the most beautiful land in the country. I have impactful moments with nature all of the time.
After church today, I'm going to one of my favorite rivers for a little steelhead fishing. The Bois Brule River is a scenic waterway that has attracted people for thousands of years. The entire stretch is navigable by paddle. There are class three rapids on the river...not so big, but they can be fun. About a week ago, we had a huge storm that dumped about nine inches of rain. I went with a friend afterward to check one of my favorite runs. When we got there, we found the river over its banks in many areas and The Ledges were rolling with 8 to 10 foot standing waves. I've never seen the river like that...
Anyway, back to fishing. Last year, on the same river, I was standing in a pool quite a hike up the river. All of the leaves around me were at peak color and the forest was a fireflash of color everywhere one looked. The wind was still and every once and a while a leaf would tumble down to the water's surface. I could see this gigantic chromer in the pool chasing the eddies as they formed.
The color of the forest, the stillness in motion, the clarity of the water, the perfect fall of the leaf, it reminded me of a samurai movie. Everything was exquisite. My rod whipped back and forth with my presentation and, in that instance at least, my cast happened to put my fly right where it needed to be.
You can not imagine how quickly a 33 inch chromer can shatter your tranquility.
After church today, I'm going to one of my favorite rivers for a little steelhead fishing. The Bois Brule River is a scenic waterway that has attracted people for thousands of years. The entire stretch is navigable by paddle. There are class three rapids on the river...not so big, but they can be fun. About a week ago, we had a huge storm that dumped about nine inches of rain. I went with a friend afterward to check one of my favorite runs. When we got there, we found the river over its banks in many areas and The Ledges were rolling with 8 to 10 foot standing waves. I've never seen the river like that...
Anyway, back to fishing. Last year, on the same river, I was standing in a pool quite a hike up the river. All of the leaves around me were at peak color and the forest was a fireflash of color everywhere one looked. The wind was still and every once and a while a leaf would tumble down to the water's surface. I could see this gigantic chromer in the pool chasing the eddies as they formed.
The color of the forest, the stillness in motion, the clarity of the water, the perfect fall of the leaf, it reminded me of a samurai movie. Everything was exquisite. My rod whipped back and forth with my presentation and, in that instance at least, my cast happened to put my fly right where it needed to be.
You can not imagine how quickly a 33 inch chromer can shatter your tranquility.
These pics are from the BWCAW in northern MN. I've spent a lot of time here...and now people occasionally pay me to take them to these places. In reality, nature pays me enough with her beauty.
Proof that God Loves Pollocks
This weekend began with grand fishing plans, like always. Then three things happened, like always
1. My wife hands me the honey-do list.
2. My wife says, "Gee, I haven't seen much of you lately."
3. I suddenly realize that I have been an insensitive jerk and that I have been derelict in many of my non-fishing duties.
Sigh, sounds like a typical weekend.
Not so! For I am one of those rare persons who are possessed of both a devious mind and a sound moral character. Plus, I had a new shore-casting rod sitting in my garage lying unused for the past two weeks.
So, I make a fair attempt at the honey-do list while keeping a watchful eye on my wife. I wait for a moment of weakness, when the boredom of watching me toil has nearly driven her mad. Then I utter the mellifluous words...
"I have an idea...why don't we go for a drive up the Shore. We'll hit Betty's pies and get a slice of seven chocolate heaven, have a cup of coffee and head back."
The wife, tempted by the double Satan of nature and chocolate cannot refuse, "Yeah, I think that sounds great!"
Yes, I rub my hands with glee, it was a done deal. The rods were already in the van along with the cooler and my tackle. So, I loaded my daughter into her seat, ushered my wife to the passenger side and roared out of the driveway like a dervish.
The March sky was cold and gray. Snow was spitting down on gusty northwest winds. There was a hint of spring in the light of day. Minnesotans know, intuitively when winter is winding down because it is proportional to the angle of the sun to the horizon. Despite this, we were stuffed into our warm clothes, cozy and comfortable. The vans heater was humming its warm breath over us.
I made it halfway over the Bong Bridge before my "darling" little daughter blew my cover. She lets out a peal of wicked laughter that causes my wife to turn her head and look behind her. Somehow, some curse must have been upon me. The hubris I have generated up to this point was too much and Karmageddon was at hand...
"Why are there fishing rods in the van?"
I couldn't think..."Uh, I don't know...uh, I thought, maybe we could make a few casts..." I shrugged sheepishly. The jig was up. There was nothing to be done.
My wife, rolling her eyes with utter disdain, reads me like a cheap tabloid. "So how long am I going to be stuck out there waiting for my pie?"
"Uh, we don't even have to fish, honey, you know me, that whole Boy Scout thing. Be prepared."
"Yeah right."
The drive through Duluth was silent. My hopes were dashed. My plans ruined. Of course, I told myself, if I would have gotten my two year old out there, she would have probably ran into the ice cold freezing water anyway. I wouldn't have been able to fish much anyhow. I couldn't rationalize it though. I knew I was beaten.
I made the turn on to old Hiway 61. It was gently snowing and my wife was staring out over the lake. We passed the French river and I asked if we could stop so I could see whether or not anyone else was catching any fish. She said fine and picked up her book. I steered the van into the lot, which was filled with big manly trucks.
Out of peer polish stubbornness, I opened up the rear of the van and grabbed my rod. I could hear my dear wife's eyes roll. Shuffling down the stairs to the lake, I found myself confronted by a phalanx of fishermen standing and sitting shoulder to shoulder. I walked to my place on the far flank and skipped over the river to the other side of the mouth.
On my first cast, the clouds broke and I heard a voice in my head.
"One more." A raven landed on a tree behind me.
I reeled in the old battered silver and blue Kroc spoon and let fly with an arc that cut through a shaft of sunlight. Scintillating, the spoon hit the water and was immediately engulfed by a fish.
The rod was bent. My heart was pounding. It tail danced on the tectonic flank and I was, for a moment, Beowulfski, with the Fire Wyrm on my sword. I reached down and landed my prize.
I walked to the van with the fish proudly before me. The eyes of my compatriots were filled with the frustration of knowing that this guy had just walked into their midst, made a couple of casts, and walked away with a fish. I knocked on the window, holding my prize, standing in the new golden light.
My wife turned to me and smiled with surprise. It was a look that told me that "Yes, God Does Love Pollocks."
This weekend began with grand fishing plans, like always. Then three things happened, like always
1. My wife hands me the honey-do list.
2. My wife says, "Gee, I haven't seen much of you lately."
3. I suddenly realize that I have been an insensitive jerk and that I have been derelict in many of my non-fishing duties.
Sigh, sounds like a typical weekend.
Not so! For I am one of those rare persons who are possessed of both a devious mind and a sound moral character. Plus, I had a new shore-casting rod sitting in my garage lying unused for the past two weeks.
So, I make a fair attempt at the honey-do list while keeping a watchful eye on my wife. I wait for a moment of weakness, when the boredom of watching me toil has nearly driven her mad. Then I utter the mellifluous words...
"I have an idea...why don't we go for a drive up the Shore. We'll hit Betty's pies and get a slice of seven chocolate heaven, have a cup of coffee and head back."
The wife, tempted by the double Satan of nature and chocolate cannot refuse, "Yeah, I think that sounds great!"
Yes, I rub my hands with glee, it was a done deal. The rods were already in the van along with the cooler and my tackle. So, I loaded my daughter into her seat, ushered my wife to the passenger side and roared out of the driveway like a dervish.
The March sky was cold and gray. Snow was spitting down on gusty northwest winds. There was a hint of spring in the light of day. Minnesotans know, intuitively when winter is winding down because it is proportional to the angle of the sun to the horizon. Despite this, we were stuffed into our warm clothes, cozy and comfortable. The vans heater was humming its warm breath over us.
I made it halfway over the Bong Bridge before my "darling" little daughter blew my cover. She lets out a peal of wicked laughter that causes my wife to turn her head and look behind her. Somehow, some curse must have been upon me. The hubris I have generated up to this point was too much and Karmageddon was at hand...
"Why are there fishing rods in the van?"
I couldn't think..."Uh, I don't know...uh, I thought, maybe we could make a few casts..." I shrugged sheepishly. The jig was up. There was nothing to be done.
My wife, rolling her eyes with utter disdain, reads me like a cheap tabloid. "So how long am I going to be stuck out there waiting for my pie?"
"Uh, we don't even have to fish, honey, you know me, that whole Boy Scout thing. Be prepared."
"Yeah right."
The drive through Duluth was silent. My hopes were dashed. My plans ruined. Of course, I told myself, if I would have gotten my two year old out there, she would have probably ran into the ice cold freezing water anyway. I wouldn't have been able to fish much anyhow. I couldn't rationalize it though. I knew I was beaten.
I made the turn on to old Hiway 61. It was gently snowing and my wife was staring out over the lake. We passed the French river and I asked if we could stop so I could see whether or not anyone else was catching any fish. She said fine and picked up her book. I steered the van into the lot, which was filled with big manly trucks.
Out of peer polish stubbornness, I opened up the rear of the van and grabbed my rod. I could hear my dear wife's eyes roll. Shuffling down the stairs to the lake, I found myself confronted by a phalanx of fishermen standing and sitting shoulder to shoulder. I walked to my place on the far flank and skipped over the river to the other side of the mouth.
On my first cast, the clouds broke and I heard a voice in my head.
"One more." A raven landed on a tree behind me.
I reeled in the old battered silver and blue Kroc spoon and let fly with an arc that cut through a shaft of sunlight. Scintillating, the spoon hit the water and was immediately engulfed by a fish.
The rod was bent. My heart was pounding. It tail danced on the tectonic flank and I was, for a moment, Beowulfski, with the Fire Wyrm on my sword. I reached down and landed my prize.
I walked to the van with the fish proudly before me. The eyes of my compatriots were filled with the frustration of knowing that this guy had just walked into their midst, made a couple of casts, and walked away with a fish. I knocked on the window, holding my prize, standing in the new golden light.
My wife turned to me and smiled with surprise. It was a look that told me that "Yes, God Does Love Pollocks."
Attachments
swiftpete
Blue Belt
I remember when I was in Thailand waterfall hunting with my friend, we'd hired a car and found this massive waterfall. No one at all around and miles from anywhere. Great! Every time we'd get to what looked like the top, we'd see that a bit further upstream it went up another level. It took us ages to climb and every time we saw a pool at the bottom of the waterfall level that we were at, we'd have a swim.
When we were nearly at the top i was wading through the pool when i looked right and saw a large snake gliding towards me, I don't know a lot about snakes but it was pretty long, a bit thicker than my wrist and and had a brightly coloured yellow/orange head, which was sticking out of the water. My friend didn't see it but just saw me bounce into the air with an almighty leap and a loud and fearful yelp. I don't know how dangerous it actually was but the fact it was coming towards me instead of swimming away i think means it wanted to show me who was boss! Of course we realised that all the pools we had swam in could easily have had snakes of their own afterwards. Not life changing or anything but it was pretty cool to see. Typically we'd ran out of camera film so I couldn't get a pic though.
When we were nearly at the top i was wading through the pool when i looked right and saw a large snake gliding towards me, I don't know a lot about snakes but it was pretty long, a bit thicker than my wrist and and had a brightly coloured yellow/orange head, which was sticking out of the water. My friend didn't see it but just saw me bounce into the air with an almighty leap and a loud and fearful yelp. I don't know how dangerous it actually was but the fact it was coming towards me instead of swimming away i think means it wanted to show me who was boss! Of course we realised that all the pools we had swam in could easily have had snakes of their own afterwards. Not life changing or anything but it was pretty cool to see. Typically we'd ran out of camera film so I couldn't get a pic though.
I wander around Albuquerque seeing roadrunners running along the road, cacti growing wild, etc. It's so different from what I'm used to having grown up in NY that it seems wodnerous to me, though it's commonplace here.
Shaolinwind
2nd Black Belt
I saw a hamster eat her own young.. I became very suspicious of my parents...mrhnau said:
