• Happy Birthday, Judge Joseph Wapner (1919-2017)! 📺🤼⚖️

Photo of the day

Time to get out of the cold weather. Here's an osprey floating in an eddy of tropical vegetation in the Silver River in Florida, a great spring run that has troops of monkeys living along the shore, which escaped during Tarzan movies that were made there in the 1930's.

Osprey on Silver River.JPG
 
In the depressing spirit of floating dead animals, here is a headless deer in the Sante Fe River in Florida. Can't blame this on falling through ice. Would a gator have lopped off its head? Or a human?

Headless deer on Sante Fe River.JPG - Click image for larger version  Name:	Headless deer on Sante Fe River.JPG Views:	0 Size:	383.4 KB ID:	121073
 
In the depressing spirit of floating dead animals, here is a headless deer in the Sante Fe River in Florida. Can't blame this on falling through ice. Would a gator have lopped off its head? Or a human?
My guess was that it was probably a buck, and someone got the head for the rack.
 
Well Frozentripper, I'm somewhat embarrassed to show the puniness of Geraldton's Ice Fishing community, but here it is....
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The view from my pop up

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Covid style relaxing
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Life is good!
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Reminds me of the scenes from "Grumpy Old Men". A tiny home on skids might be in order--could use it year round. Maybe add some 55 gal drums for floatation, and take it with you on your canoe treks.
 
EK_0023 by Mike McCrea, on Flickr

One of the funnest days ever, paddling drops and busted mill dams on the Yellow Breeches in PA, with friends Tom and Topher.

Tom was paddling the (actual manufacturer name) “Dreamboat”, a vintage RX canoe I had given him, repaired with three seats. Old school heavy Royalex, that boat weighed 80+ lbs, and the bow, plunging over drops, was none too buoyant.

Eh, the Dreamboat also had no float bags, and contained Tom’s usual excess of day gear and beverages. Not quite this load, but not far off.

EK_0005 by Mike McCrea, on Flickr

Tom would run little drops like that on the Yellow Breeches, and I could hear a Klaxon horn sounding “Dive, dive, dive” as the entire canoe submarined out of sight. Sometimes all we could see was Tom’s hat, floating away.

The day got better; other things floated away. At one broken mill dam Tom, tired of swimming or, more accurately, submerged kneeling as the hull went deep, elected to line the Dreamboat. His painters were too short, so he attached another line, using what is commonly called a “Not”.

Tom let the canoe down the sluice and the “not” instantly unraveled. I was already in an eddy 30 yards downriver and the free range Dreamboat ran the sluice perfectly, dry and upright, and floated unoccupied to my side. Like a faithful dog, I think it just wanted to come home.

The look on his face when the “not” unraveled was priceless as he stood atop the dam, forlornly holding a rope attached to nothing.

Tom did not appear to appreciate it when the Dreamboat came home to papa and I bellow “This is the best day ever!” But it was his cleanest run of the day.
 
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