Canoe and Butterflies

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I saw a kingfisher dive into the water back in a little cove off to the right of the canoe so I headed over that way.  A couple wooden posts were embedded into the ground for a boat tie off and I used one of them to secure the canoe.  If I wait here long enough I may get a picture of the rascal while he fishes.

  I thought the day would be a total waste as rain moved in last night and stayed until noon today.  The canoe was still atop the truck from last evening so I thought I might sneak out on the water for a couple hours.

 The wind is picking up now as I write this and is a harbinger for things to come this evening.  I only have two days off this week so camping was not an option.  Next week, however, I have four days off and Calderwood Lake is the plan.  I will take the motor boat and two dogs;  Douglas and Shade.  I would take Happy also but she just can't shut her mouth.  There's no wildlife photography with her along.

 I did give Douglas a try in the canoe last evening.  The boat was empty so I didn't know what to expect. (canoe's are not as stable when empty of weight.)

 Douglas surprised me.  He sat down in the canoe and was a perfect companion.  I fully expected him to upset us at some point and stayed very close to the shoreline.  

 He did really well.  Canoes are sensitive to movement and especially sudden, rapid shifts in weight placement but, they are not the unstable craft that people believe them to be..  Actually canoe's aren't unstable; people are, and at times, dogs can be a concern.  It's all in fun.

 Douglas is a great companion.  I don't know;  I may just take him and the canoe on the camp trip next week.

The breeze has picked up and I will soon have to start paddling toward the truck.   It's a long way back.  But for now I'll enjoy what quiet I have and relax here in the grass for awhile.  I'll probably find the chigger family.  There is an abnormal quantity of butterflies flitting all about me.  I mean they are present by the hundreds.  Wonder what that's all about.  They are everywhere.  I can't even write without them landing on my tablet.  And my hat;  my hat has at least ten on it.  I wish they would stay on there so I could get a picture of them.  No one would believe it.

 I have no idea what species this butterfly is.  I have the National Audubon Society insect guide book and it's useless.  Same for birds.

 There are lots of these in the mix.

 He's a handsome guy;  I'll say that for him, whatever species he is.

 I can't believe the numbers of butterflies I'm seeing.  Below is a very pretty butterfly who's kind outnumber all the others.

 Ah Ha!  The above is a Spring Azure.  I knew I'd get one figured out.

 There are thousands of these.   They are flying in clusters.  I wish I had the 135mm lens for my big camera with me.  The 500mm lens is useless in this situation.  The Canon Elph should do fine.

 I never expected to run into anything like this.  Butterfly attack.  It reminds me of the dragon fly attack I survived on Indian Boundary Lake last year.  Whew!  that was a close one.

 There is something about paddling a canoe that resurrects some dormant part of the soul that has been sleeping for all ones life.  I guess the problem is defining what the word "something" refers to.  I am usually never at a loss for words but, to describe the sensation of moving over calm water under ones own power, silently, creating no adverse affects on anything natural makes an exact definition difficult to arrive at.  Maybe there is not one but, many definitions of that "something about paddling."

 I love the silence of it and the skill required to make the craft move where I want it to.  The animal world does not scream off in terror at my passing.  They often times stare in wonderment.  I can think more clearly and prioritize things.  And;  I can write in the atmosphere provided by the canoe.  Moving quietly along a shoreline in a canoe also focuses ones attention on other subject matter that is accepted as normal in daily life.  Noise!  I've said it before and will again here.  The absence of noise is deafening!   The operation of a canoe creates a calm, somber, quiet mood and anything outside "THE" experience is noise.  Loud truck and motorcycle mufflers, humans throwing things in the water and talking and yelling, and the proverbial boom box.  Great Scott!   What is it about humans and noise.  Wonder why humans can't visit a wilderness area and leave their noisey, loud music home.  Just once;  try to visit the forest and lake without bringing Bubba Farthals new hit, "Screemin For Beer" blasting through the evening stillness in an attempt to awaken the dead who have rested in peace in the cemetery four miles away at the edge of the forest.  Oh well;  takes all kinds.

 I can't get  over all these butterflies.  I'm impressed

 The two photo's above and those below were taken with the 500mm lens.  I didn't expect the quality to be nearly as good as it is.
Look at the little camouflage butterfly below.  It's hard to tell the front from the back.  It's even hard to identify it as a butterfly.  That's his defense mechanism.  

Look at the diversity!  They're everywhere.

 I guess Calderwood Lake has ruined it for me on the valley lakes.  That mountain lake is primitive, quiet and hard to get to with large boats.  Love it!
I've stayed here too long.  It's raining.  Catch you later.

PACHELBEL; and MY SOUL

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 PACHEBEL;    I’ve always been mesmerized by that piece of music.  It has been accomplished in so many ways and all are beautiful to the ear.  The notes move over my mind softly and elegantly leaving me in a melancholy stupor each and every time I hear it.  The melody is sweet;  sweeter than the nectar of the most beautiful flower imaginable.  My eyes close and my mind becomes uncluttered.  I can dwell deeply into all that is of value and importance to me.  The violin speaks with clarity that helps simplify the tumultuous occurrences of daily life.  The instrument’s perfect creation of music demands total concentration from the listener; it beckons one to focus totally on the sounds emitted.

Tonight,  as I sit here in this room surrounded by my animal friends, I envision myself in my beloved canoe, my escape machine, quietly floating on calm water under the great tree of the eagle.   I think of all the times I have wandered under and past that great tree to gaze upon what few have had the opportunity to see.  The bold, proud Bald Eagles sitting proudly atop the highest branch on their tree keeping watch over their offspring below in the enormous nest designed especially for them.  I can see their children looking over the top edge of the great wooden bowl; staring down at me, so insignificant, as I look up at them in awe.  So small they are and so vulnerable!   They are fresh and new;  They appear insignificant and tiny, yet so valuable and important.  They are the next generation of hope.  I lay back on my tiny, floating stick and memorize their every move, their texture and separate them as individuals.   I blink my eyes and they are larger.  The babies materialize into near adult stature.  They have the look of dignity and grace;  pride and fortitude; power and might; truth and justice; and all that is good in man.  I watch as they climb and flutter from nest to the tallest limb.  They stretch out their powerful wings and hold them extended from their sides for but a moment.  The extension indicates an all encompassing protective shield, a barrier, which will protect mankind from the evils that lurk in the dark.  Their eyes are sharp and all seeing.  Nothing can pass by that keen sight without their seeing.   Talons, sharp as needles, ready to defend and turn back any threatening foe powered by muscular legs and thighs.  A sharp sword is presented in the form of a razor sharp beak in any direction the eagle turns it’s head.  The young eagles will carry on their proud linage and prove all this eventually true.  They will grow in strength and their vigor will increase.  Each will become a master of the sky.  They will own the wind.  Their grandeur will inspire every American who is fortunate enough to gaze upon them, to feel the surge of blood rush hot, associated with the vision of their might, their freedom, and their power to inspire the importance of freedom in every American heart.

And so, I float beneath the tree that once held the seeds of freedom and the tune of Pachebel resounds softly across my mind.  I gaze up into the top of the now empty vastness of the tree, the emptiness and the absence of the greatest hopes of mankind, gone.  I am saddened by their leaving but, comforted at the renewed hope they will bestow upon Americans as the young eagles mature and gain the unequaled strength to own the sky above our blessed country, and as the symbol of freedom, stimulate hope in the hearts of all citizens that freedom will continue;  and above all, that it is  as valuable if not more, than the blood that courses through each American’s veins.  Farewell my eagles.  Soar high and proud.  Let your shrieks sound in conjunction with the tone of the bell that sounds liberties cry.   We will hearken to your call when freedom requires defending.

I placed the blade of the paddle into the mirror surface of the water and slowly pulled the canoe quietly to it.  My small floating boat moved away from the big tree.  I watched it disappear into the night.  A bright moon reflected its light off the ripples the paddle blade created at it’s entrance into the water.  I turned to gaze one more time at the great tree.  The inhabitants gone but, their aura remains.  To me;  it is a sacred tree.  And Pachebel once again calms my soul as I paddle into the darkness of the night..

A FULL DAY. DOCTOR, LAKE, MOTORCYCLE, CANOE

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I really over did the days activities.  I had a doctor's appointment at 9:00 AM and took the Gheenoe along because Melton Hill Lake is not far from the doctor's office.  After the removal of four pounds of dirt from each ear;  I drove to the lake.  Melton Hill is not one of my favorite lakes but it is usually quiet during the week.  I noticed a few fishermen in boats as I pulled into the boat ramp area.   I can deal with that.  A Cormorant blasted away from a dead fall located just a few feet from the shoreline.

I tried a little fishing but the only fish I could find was the one above, floating bloated and stinking down the center of the lake.  This body of water is like the dead sea today.  The water lay quiet and unmoving as in a swamp.  I never really cared for the water of this lake.  I don't want to give Melton Hill a bad rap but it is as it appears.  I have seen a bass tournament where one bass won the contest.  That one bass was the only one caught that evening.

Today, I could find no creatures along the shore line.  The usual Cormorant, Heron and Sandpiper were present but nothing else.  That is, nothing else but the little fellow below:

Now, what do I have here?

It is a common brown water snake.  I'll look it up later.  My guide book, as I have stated previous to this entry, is the worse guide on the planet.  I will get a good one eventually.  For now we'll call this snake a common brown water snake.

He passed right under the boat and headed for the shore line and the darkness of the embankment under the trees and dead falls.

He picked the darkest area to slither into.  It's hard to believe, I know, but I have never used the flash on this 50D Canon camera.  I had no idea how to get to the flash.  I'll cure that later on tonight.  I did the best I could free hand in the shade with a 500 mm lens set on a "too slow" shutter speed due to low light conditions.  Whew!

I could see the little fellow wanted to climb up on dry land so I moved away as I was the center of attention for him and a major disturbance.

Sure wish I could use the flash.  Out on the lake I saw a rare sight.  There was someone in a boat actually rowing.   Rowing is not anything new but, it's not a common sight on these lakes, especially out here on this isolated section of Melton Hill.   The row boat was a unique sight but even more unique was the operator of the ores and the first mate.   A lady in a row boat out in the center of a wilderness section of a large lake with a dog for a pilot---how cool is that.  We exchanged waves and smiles and kept on moving.

The dog is beautiful.  I know what it is but can't spell it.  Weimaraner.  It's something like that.

I took a couple of parting shots as they past to my rear.

It's a chore rowing a boat.  Try it sometime.  I'll take a canoe any day over a row boat.  My hat is off to this lady for her fortitude.  The smile I saw on her face tells me she is enjoying her experience with the boat, the solitude and her gorgeous dog.

I was having a great ride on the lake but was disappointed with the limited photo opportunities.  I decided to head home and trade the motor boat for the motorcycle.  I wanted to visit a store that sells canoes up toward Knoxville.  Once on the motorcycle, I felt a bit cooler.  The air flow at sixty miles per hour was welcome.  The problem was that the closer I got to the city, the busier the traffic got.   As I moved closer and closer to the asphalt jungle I began thinking, "what am I doing up here in this mess?"
I couldn't take it.  I turned the big bike around and headed for home.  It was almost 1:00 PM and there was time to MOW some grass.  The problem with this idea was that the big zero turn 52 inch cut mower was broken and in the shop with serious transmission problems.  The GRASS hadn't been cut in four weeks and the property looked like a hay field.  I MOW for a lady who lives on top of a mountain and the lawn is all hills and steep banks.  A long story shortened;  I used my self propelled, walk behind Ninja MOWER to mow about an acre of GRASS.    During this process I sat down on the ground no less than ten times.  Toward the end I became light headed and my hips were aching.  I must have drank two gallons of water during the process.  I'll never do this again.  I knocked out about three quarters of the MOWING leaving the worse for the big MOWER when it's repaired.  I've said it before and I'll say it again;  MOWING GRASS is without a doubt, the biggest wast of time, effort and money on the planet.  It costs a fortune, is repetitive and labor intensive.  When I finished the ordeal I stood there looking at it.  I thought;  "OK;  where's everybody at who is supposed to be impressed with all this cut GRASS?"  
I mean;  "Who's going to see it way up here on top this mountain on private property?"
I dragged my broken body into the truck after drinking another gallon of warm water and surveyed my work as I departed the premises.  I whispered under my breath;  "total waste of time."

Now we're talking!   This was great!
The water was great.  The evening was great and it felt comfortable to feel the paddle in my hands.  The lake's surface is as if it were a mirror.  Tiny insects are emerging here and there creating dimples in the smooth surface.  Bluegills and Crappy are taking some of them before they can escape to the safety of the sky.

I felt like beaching the canoe and sitting awhile.  I wanted to write this blog entry while I was on or near the water.  I always do that.  I have to be on or near the lake or river.  It seems I can think better in that environment.  I chose a sandy spot and ran her aground and stepped out.  It was a pleasant spot and very pleasing to the eye.

Somewhere across the cove, crows are sounding startling cries.  An owl, no doubt, is among them.  I can visualize him sitting on his perch, patiently awaiting the coming of darkness.  The crows had better cuddle close this night.

I could hear a bullfrog clear across the cove thrumping out his social call.  Another frog on my side of the water would answer.  Each was respectful of the other, as neither would croak while the other was speaking. A large boat slowly motored in to the mouth of the cove and shut off the engines.  It was a big one;  maybe forty foot long.  Two men set up a constant jabbering that carried well across the water.  It went on and on.  Senseless, useless babble about nothing.  I can't stand it!  Human intrusion breaks the silence of my hide away and ruins the moment.  It's time to get into the canoe and leave.  Darkness is setting in fast anyway.

I'm looking forward to the silent paddle back the length of the cove to the truck.

It's been a busy day and I'm tired and hungry.  But more than anything;  I want to paddle this canoe.  Catch you later.