Sunday, July 31, 2005
Bald Knob School
I would be remise if I didn't pass on the news of the purchase of Bald Knob School. The school is located in northern Franklin County, Kentucky on a what was once a rounded, treeless hill, a "bald." I'm supposing the knob's treeless environs were due to the American Bison that once frequented this area and since their time, the trees have basically taken over. The ridge separates the drainage basins of Stony Creek to the south from Flat Creek northward. Both creeks are tributaries to the Kentucky River.
These are my recollections and if I get them wrong, I'm sure the family will notify me. All of Leslie Moore's children attended High School at Bald Knob. In fact, both Carl and Vivian taught there and were apparently difficult taskmasters directing the edification (and it is claimed, the civilization) of their younger brother O'dell. O'dell later worked as a bus driver and met JoAnn Abrams while she attended the school. Paula, Beverly, and Barbara attended Bald Knob, but it was no longer a high school. Both Brandon and Michael attended grade school there.
A new facility, I believe the one at Choatsville, has been built to replace the Bald Knob School and the decision was made to sell the old building. At the auction in May, the winning bid was for more than $98,000, but that person withdrew his bid stating it was too much given the condition of the building and the repair and remodeling required. The building went to the next bidders, Coleman Roach and J.W. Kendall for a total of $47,000. They moved in and began making plans to restore the building and turn it into a community center. They plan to keep the old wooden floors and everything else that can be preserved.
These are my recollections and if I get them wrong, I'm sure the family will notify me. All of Leslie Moore's children attended High School at Bald Knob. In fact, both Carl and Vivian taught there and were apparently difficult taskmasters directing the edification (and it is claimed, the civilization) of their younger brother O'dell. O'dell later worked as a bus driver and met JoAnn Abrams while she attended the school. Paula, Beverly, and Barbara attended Bald Knob, but it was no longer a high school. Both Brandon and Michael attended grade school there.
A new facility, I believe the one at Choatsville, has been built to replace the Bald Knob School and the decision was made to sell the old building. At the auction in May, the winning bid was for more than $98,000, but that person withdrew his bid stating it was too much given the condition of the building and the repair and remodeling required. The building went to the next bidders, Coleman Roach and J.W. Kendall for a total of $47,000. They moved in and began making plans to restore the building and turn it into a community center. They plan to keep the old wooden floors and everything else that can be preserved.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Sounds in the Country
Sounds cycle throughout a summer's day. Crickets, of course, are a general background drone just about any time of day. As dawn brightens, it is the birds that begin the day. Robins chirp as they announce they are leaving the roost to look for that early worm. As the day warms, it is the cicadas who seem to judge how hot the afternoon will become. The earlier their buzzing drone is added to the chorus, the hotter it will be. Sometimes they are rudely interrupted and you hear the rattle of their wings as they fly off in search of another perch.
In the evening, it is again the birds who dominate. Robins chirp. Wrens announce themselves and fuss at whatever has drawn their ire. Bull frogs will join in. Eventually they'll settle down. As it heads toward dark, the tree frogs will pipe in with their cacophony. Sometimes they will almost synchronize into a pulsing rhythm only to diverge into chaos. Occasionally, the night will be interruped with the coughing barks and almost human sounding cries of a fox, or the hoots of an owl. Cats can be counted on to be the loudest and most disharmonious of the night sounds, but fortunately, it's not every night.
But, of all the sounds, there is that one interval in the wee hours of the morning, before the first hints of dawn, when everything seems to hold its breath. Even the crickets seem tentative, as if they judge that too much noise might attract the skunk, raccoon, 'possum or another something that would eat them. This is the wonderful, quiet sound (or lack thereof) of the anticipation of another summer day.
In the evening, it is again the birds who dominate. Robins chirp. Wrens announce themselves and fuss at whatever has drawn their ire. Bull frogs will join in. Eventually they'll settle down. As it heads toward dark, the tree frogs will pipe in with their cacophony. Sometimes they will almost synchronize into a pulsing rhythm only to diverge into chaos. Occasionally, the night will be interruped with the coughing barks and almost human sounding cries of a fox, or the hoots of an owl. Cats can be counted on to be the loudest and most disharmonious of the night sounds, but fortunately, it's not every night.
But, of all the sounds, there is that one interval in the wee hours of the morning, before the first hints of dawn, when everything seems to hold its breath. Even the crickets seem tentative, as if they judge that too much noise might attract the skunk, raccoon, 'possum or another something that would eat them. This is the wonderful, quiet sound (or lack thereof) of the anticipation of another summer day.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Not your typical sunfish
JH is a coworker who recently purchased a fly rod. His father got a place in the Carolinas on a lake and his brother said, "Let's learn." After he admitted he hadn't caught anything on that trip, I invited him to visit Benson Creek with me this morning. There's something special about sunfish on a fly rod and they will teach you a lot about: casting, picking "fishy" spots, reflexes, setting the hook, playing, landing, and releasing. It is very meditative and requires a lot of concentration. You must be ready at any instant to set the hook from the very millisecond the fly hits the water.
Most of the fish are about 4- to 6-inches. Some are smaller; a few are larger. Mostly, it will be redbreast sunfish or green sunfish, but I've caugh redeye, smallmouth, and crappie in the creek. The pool behind the breached dam near the old Kennebec distillery is the place to start. I located some spots holding fish with a wet fly and directed JH into position to catch them. At first, he missed a lot of fish, but got the hang of it quickly. The key is to hold your rod tip down, just above the water, so there is a minimum of slack line to take up between you and the fly.
Now, at the head of this pool is a ledge with a broad flat shallow shelf upstream of the pool. On the right is a little side channel that diverts flow around the dam to a spot about 50 yards below the dam. There wasn't enough water in Benson and nothing was flowing out of the pool save at the dam itself. Recent rains have raised the level of the water in the creek so that many of the shelves that were dry the last time I fished the creek are now under about 6 inches of water. The water was about 4 feet deep today. There is a rocky bar in front of that little side channel and a pool behind it, underneath the exposed roots of a sycamore. The point is that from this side channel and rock bar upstream along the banks and all the way across the stream in front of the ledge, fish can usually be found. In fact, there is a break in the ledge over to the left that forms an upstream pointing, v-shaped notch that has a cobbly bottom. Near that notch, at the base of the ledge is a spring where cool water enters the pool.
I fished the right half of the ledge from the side channel over. I described the notch to JH and directed him to it. JH was fishing a yellow popper, so I thought I'd try a Madame X. (The Madame X is a deer hair attractor that is basically a dry fly.) After catching a couple of sunfish, I cast toward the edge of the notch, beyond the ledge onto the shallow shelf and indicated JH should cast to the left of and a bit farther upstream of that spot.
Now, when sunfish hit a dry fly, there is a little splash. You've got to react and set the hook before the bubbles burst. Splash! I was quick enough and felt the weight of the fish securely at the end of my line. But, in one of those whack in the side of the head, zen moments, I realized this wasn't a hand-sized sunfish. No, it just stayed down and swam on. The flyrod was bent into an impressive curve as I played the fish and maintained just enough tension on the line. Too little tension and my barbless hook could easily be thrown. Too much force and I would put my knots and 4-lb test tippet at risk.
Where the leader entered the water, it cut a narrow V, back and forth, circling, as I tried to direct the fish away from rocks, ledges, submerged brush, anything that would rub, catch, and snap the line. I finally bring it to hand, a 14-inch smallmouth.
This greenish bronze fish is an unexpected bonus in this pool. Usually by this time of year, the bait fishermen have taken all the keepers from this pool. I felt bad because JH didn't catch it. I felt good because I'll be able to come back and try for it again in a couple of weeks. If I can get Michael to sleep at night on the weekends and get up early in the mornings (before it gets hot), he might have a shot at it.
Most of the fish are about 4- to 6-inches. Some are smaller; a few are larger. Mostly, it will be redbreast sunfish or green sunfish, but I've caugh redeye, smallmouth, and crappie in the creek. The pool behind the breached dam near the old Kennebec distillery is the place to start. I located some spots holding fish with a wet fly and directed JH into position to catch them. At first, he missed a lot of fish, but got the hang of it quickly. The key is to hold your rod tip down, just above the water, so there is a minimum of slack line to take up between you and the fly.
Now, at the head of this pool is a ledge with a broad flat shallow shelf upstream of the pool. On the right is a little side channel that diverts flow around the dam to a spot about 50 yards below the dam. There wasn't enough water in Benson and nothing was flowing out of the pool save at the dam itself. Recent rains have raised the level of the water in the creek so that many of the shelves that were dry the last time I fished the creek are now under about 6 inches of water. The water was about 4 feet deep today. There is a rocky bar in front of that little side channel and a pool behind it, underneath the exposed roots of a sycamore. The point is that from this side channel and rock bar upstream along the banks and all the way across the stream in front of the ledge, fish can usually be found. In fact, there is a break in the ledge over to the left that forms an upstream pointing, v-shaped notch that has a cobbly bottom. Near that notch, at the base of the ledge is a spring where cool water enters the pool.
I fished the right half of the ledge from the side channel over. I described the notch to JH and directed him to it. JH was fishing a yellow popper, so I thought I'd try a Madame X. (The Madame X is a deer hair attractor that is basically a dry fly.) After catching a couple of sunfish, I cast toward the edge of the notch, beyond the ledge onto the shallow shelf and indicated JH should cast to the left of and a bit farther upstream of that spot.
Now, when sunfish hit a dry fly, there is a little splash. You've got to react and set the hook before the bubbles burst. Splash! I was quick enough and felt the weight of the fish securely at the end of my line. But, in one of those whack in the side of the head, zen moments, I realized this wasn't a hand-sized sunfish. No, it just stayed down and swam on. The flyrod was bent into an impressive curve as I played the fish and maintained just enough tension on the line. Too little tension and my barbless hook could easily be thrown. Too much force and I would put my knots and 4-lb test tippet at risk.
Where the leader entered the water, it cut a narrow V, back and forth, circling, as I tried to direct the fish away from rocks, ledges, submerged brush, anything that would rub, catch, and snap the line. I finally bring it to hand, a 14-inch smallmouth.
This greenish bronze fish is an unexpected bonus in this pool. Usually by this time of year, the bait fishermen have taken all the keepers from this pool. I felt bad because JH didn't catch it. I felt good because I'll be able to come back and try for it again in a couple of weeks. If I can get Michael to sleep at night on the weekends and get up early in the mornings (before it gets hot), he might have a shot at it.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Heat Advisory
Today's forecast is exactly what you expect for midsummer in Kentucky: calm wind, scattered thundershowers (40%), high 92. The only thing you can't really put into that forecast is the humidity. Yeah, I know they provide a "heat index"; the index is supposed to be over 100 for today and the next 5 days. Humidity, however, is a force all on its own. Even before you feel hot, you feel the humidity. It can even get you in the shade. This morning it was raining around sunrise. A gentle rain, so light and quiet, you had to step into it to notice. What this means is the breech is loaded. This afternoon, as it warms up, that delightful rain will become the humidity. Steam will rise from the roadways competing with the shimmering heat. The air will be thick, heavy, close. This is classic porch-sitting weather. Weather where you rock in your favorite chair to enjoy the breeze.
I will admit that Kentucky doesn't have an exclusive license on humidity. I visited the Texas Gulf Coast in September. It wasn't the seashore, mind you, where there might be a breeze, but a bit inland, southeast of Houston. With a 95 degree temperature, the humidity there was a tangible and oppressive enemy. Especially with the mosquitos, there was no hope of a respite. It was not something citronella candles, iced tea, or shade could make tolerable. This is the kind of humidity that requires a full retreat to a mechanically filtered and chilled room with a sofa and TV.
Anyway, I wouldn't want to miss these days. They are the essence and taste of summer. These are the days that if the creeks don't rise, I'll try to beat the heat early tomorrow morning by coaxing a few fish to hand while standing waste deep in a shaded pool.
I will admit that Kentucky doesn't have an exclusive license on humidity. I visited the Texas Gulf Coast in September. It wasn't the seashore, mind you, where there might be a breeze, but a bit inland, southeast of Houston. With a 95 degree temperature, the humidity there was a tangible and oppressive enemy. Especially with the mosquitos, there was no hope of a respite. It was not something citronella candles, iced tea, or shade could make tolerable. This is the kind of humidity that requires a full retreat to a mechanically filtered and chilled room with a sofa and TV.
Anyway, I wouldn't want to miss these days. They are the essence and taste of summer. These are the days that if the creeks don't rise, I'll try to beat the heat early tomorrow morning by coaxing a few fish to hand while standing waste deep in a shaded pool.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Early Mornings
In the early morning, everything wakes up, slowly brightening into a new day. It's going to be close; when I step outside, I can feel even my temples getting damp. I am thankful for a gentle, cooling breeze, but I know it won't hold up. Not today. This afternoon, it will be a great time for a lazy "sinking spell." The night creatures have been silent since the first inkling of sunrise. Early morning Robins break the quiet, tentatively calling as they begin their quest for worms. The day isn't busy yet.
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Blackberry Days
The blackberry days of summer are here. Earlier in the year, just after the bushes bloomed, I cut paths through the briars with a weedeater. It is now time to reap the benefits of that cultivation. Blackberrys; the treat that most exemplifies "bitter sweet." Beverly remembered as a little girl, she would be equipped with a coffee can tied on a string so she could hang it from her neck; the better to pick with both hands. My fingers purple, because I just can't pass up some of the mushy ones. You really do have to make sure they are ripe. I step carefully among the canes, reaching as far as I can and hoping not to topple. Thorns prick my hands and arms as I weave my way into the thicket. Sometimes, you get just so far and then you have to gently spin around to release yourself from the briars. Mosquito whine. Flies buzz. Sweat trickes down chest and back. The first berrys make a little plunk when dropped into the container; later, as it fills, they make a soft plop. Cicadas buzz then rattle in flight as they move from tree to tree.
Blackberrys aren't the only days of summer. There are still and cloudy days full of anticipation and promise. Will it rain? Will the breeze freshen, temperature drop, leaves turn, and with the smell of rain, a thundershower might burst. The sun returns, sometimes with a rainbow, other times steam rises from the ground. There are bright hot humid days when it seems a job just to find some shade and a lemonade. Those days remind me of growing up. I would go across the street and hide from the heat in the VFW pool. I'd come back wrapped in a towel and dripping purple popcicle juice from my elbows.
My summer days are no longer childishly carefree, but the days are certainly a delicacy to savor. I'm going to wait and enjoy the lightening bugs' show this evening. Maybe tomorrow morning, I'll have pancakes, or waffles, or cereal, but most certainly fresh blackberrys.
BTW, I'm still working on the settings for this blog. The little comment link just below and to the right should be working if you have something to add. I have no idea yet if you'll have to register, or log in, or what.
Blackberrys aren't the only days of summer. There are still and cloudy days full of anticipation and promise. Will it rain? Will the breeze freshen, temperature drop, leaves turn, and with the smell of rain, a thundershower might burst. The sun returns, sometimes with a rainbow, other times steam rises from the ground. There are bright hot humid days when it seems a job just to find some shade and a lemonade. Those days remind me of growing up. I would go across the street and hide from the heat in the VFW pool. I'd come back wrapped in a towel and dripping purple popcicle juice from my elbows.
My summer days are no longer childishly carefree, but the days are certainly a delicacy to savor. I'm going to wait and enjoy the lightening bugs' show this evening. Maybe tomorrow morning, I'll have pancakes, or waffles, or cereal, but most certainly fresh blackberrys.
BTW, I'm still working on the settings for this blog. The little comment link just below and to the right should be working if you have something to add. I have no idea yet if you'll have to register, or log in, or what.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Chipmunk Antics
The long 4th of July weekend was hot and humid. I spent a good bit of the afternoons on the back porch, under the ceiling fan, rocking on the glider, sipping my ubiquitous iced tea, and reading the new Elmore Leonard novel (The Hot Kid). I was contemplating and enjoying not mowing the lawn. A swift movement attracted my attention; a chipmunk had teleported to the edge of the decking. He peered out from under the railing, suspiciously eyeing me and the cat in the rocking chair. He dashed under the end of the glider while I maintained the status quo (rocking and not watching him directly). A few seconds later, I heard a rustling in the cat’s food bowl. The chipmunk was sitting on the edge of the bowl, stuffing its cheeks with nuggets of dry cat food. When fully stocked, it scampered back under the glider, across the porch, tail held straight and high, and headed to the rock pile at the end of the garden.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Raining
It's raining. A languid summer rain that over two days hasn't accumulated more than 0.5 inch. It's the kind of rin that is soaking in and I'll have to mow the lawn next week. The rain makes a gentle hiss like a steady breeze rustling the leaves, but the wind is totally still. 9:30 pm and deep twilight. The bright greenish-yellow flashes of lightening bugs are rising over the brown grass. The sun is behind clouds and below the horizon, but shadows under the trees are evident, cast by the wan light scattered through the cloud cover. The splash and dribble of rain water from the downspout sounds like the burbling of water flowing over rocks in a little stream.
Every now and then, there is the deep buzz of a humming bird. They are ferociously territorial and with high-pitched squeeks and wings rattling in collisions, they chase each other in mad acrobatics.
Nose inside the glass, a small draught of Kentucky's finest provides the distinct spicy, oak smell and taste-tingle to accent and finish off a quiet evening. [BTW, it is Buffalo Trace's Eagle Rare, hard to beat.]
Every now and then, there is the deep buzz of a humming bird. They are ferociously territorial and with high-pitched squeeks and wings rattling in collisions, they chase each other in mad acrobatics.
Nose inside the glass, a small draught of Kentucky's finest provides the distinct spicy, oak smell and taste-tingle to accent and finish off a quiet evening. [BTW, it is Buffalo Trace's Eagle Rare, hard to beat.]
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Using RSS
The little orange XML icon to the left indicates you can set up a program to automatically detect whenever anything is posted to this site.
RSS means "really simple syndication" and the basic idea is to enable users of web-based material to quickly find out about changes posted to a web site without actually having to repeatedly visit the site. A user can make their own daily newspaper. The following is a list of RSS feeds for headlines and science news. Each entry usually has a list of the available topical feeds. Most of the sites have a "What is RSS?" link so I'll only give the fundamentals. To find more feeds, simply look on your favorite website for the little orange XML or RSS icon.
- AP
- Reuters
- BBC (world news)
- Yahoo! News
- Eurekalert (service of the AAAS)
- New Scientist
- Science Daily
- National Public Radio
- NASA
Some sites implement feeds that support keyword searches. For example http://news.search.yahoo.com/news/rss?p=climate+change&ei=UTF-8&fl=0&x=wrt is a custom feed from Yahoo news that looks for the phrase "climate change" in the headlines.
How do you use this information? The current versions of the Netscape and Firefox browsers automatically detect and set up how to read the feed. Netscape lets you add things to your personal "multibars". Firefox implements "live bookmarks." See the help files provided for each browser. Current versions of Internet Explorer don't recognize RSS feeds; you have to go through Outlook or Outlook Express and implement the feed as an incoming e-mail.
Another option is to use a feed reader or news aggregator. This is a little program that runs in the background. It is kind of like a miniature robot web browser. The only job of the reader is to periodically visit the RSS feed sites you define and look for changes. A free and easy to use reader is available for downloading at FeedReader.com. You simply select a feed and copy the URL into the bookmark list of FeedReader; it takes care of the rest.
Finally, some services allow you to configure your own web page with feeds you select. For example, if you have a Yahoo e-mail account, you can simply log in to My Yahoo and configure what you want to see. Many feed providers associated with Yahoo have a My Yahoo button that will automatically add the feed to your Yahoo page.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Herons on Benson Creek
This picture of Benson Creek was taken yesterday. If you look closely, near the very center of the image, you'll see the long necks of three Great Blue Herons. There were actually 5 in the group. [Note that I'm trying to resolve issues concerning the photo resolution.]
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Fishing in Benson Creek
I arrived at the ford across Benson at the bottom of Snow Hill Road about 7:30 this morning. The low sun cast a warm yellow hue westward and upstream. As I sat on the tailgate of the truck and rigged up my rod, I noticed a flock of Great Blue Herons in a shady nook about 100 yards distant. I say a "flock" because there were 5; I rarely see more than 2 together. The stream is at extremely low, base level conditions. Most of the broad shelves of limestone (Curdsville Member of the Lexington) are exposed, or under only about 6 inches of water that is flowing in a slow trickle to the Kentucky River.
As I hike upstream, it always amazes me that the Kildeer, ducks, and herons always fly upstream, ahead of me. They never fly over me to land in the stretches of creek I've just passed.
At the ruined dam that used to impound the water supply for the Kennebec Distillery, I decided to bypass the pool and fish it on the way back. Often I've waded this pool in waist to chest deep water, but not today. It was barely knee deep and mirror smooth as I worked my way around it.
The next pool upstream is the one with an upstream facing ledge (most ledges on most streams face downstream and make little falls). There are always fish here, but as far as bass go, I didn't have what they were looking for this morning. A minnow immitation in the evening may produce better results. A yellow popper and a "Bream Killer" wet fly brought several redbreast and green sunfish to hand. The redbreast sunfish, a relative of the Bluegill, is one of my favorite fish. The vivid orange-red breast is fades upward into beautiful turquoise vermiform markings along the gills. Even the smallest ones are very game on a fly rod. The green sunfish has a characteristically large mouth hinting at its relation to the largemouth bass (which itself is really a sunfish). The creamy yellow accents that outline its fins give this fish a beauty all its own. Before you ever land one, you know when you've got a green sunfish on your line. They hit the fly as faster and harder than many fish. They quickly give up the fight, however.
I continued upstream to the largest pool (in area) that is downstream of the "railroad bridge" pool below Red Bridge. The passage upstream is through a narrow shaded rocky bed that is always cool. It is along this stretch that native mussels survive in Benson. I was glad to see mussels from about the size of a dime all the way up to more than 4 inches along their long axis. I caught a few green sunfish on a wolly bugger. As the day warmed and the wind picked up, I decided to start back.
On the way back downstream, I was careful to observe the mussels. Many had been stranded as the water level got lower. It looked as if some had tried to bury themselves in the sand, to no avail. The raccoons (or maybe skunks) had dug them up and enjoyed them for dinner. Speaking of raccoons, a young sow with one kit and I surprised each other. She sent her young one up a tree and sat on her haunches watching me for a bit before disappearing into the underbrush. She was obviously catching crawdads.
I stopped at the head of the pool behind the dam. The head of the pool is a ledge with a cool spring entering the pool at the base of the ledge. I decided to try a bead-head nymph (about 1/4-inch long) and caught a few. I ended the day fishing a (floating) Madame X. The dark fish rising from the depths to examine the fly, then darting forward in a slashing attack is always a thrill. You have to pay attention and be quick about setting the hook, or you'll miss the fish. As I worked the pool, a Pileated Woodpecker landed in a nearby tree. He rattled the dead branch and I spotted his red head. He called a few times and then flew off again on his woodpecker errands.
All in all, it was a good day to be fishing.
BTW, In case you were wondering, flies were tied with the barbs bent and filed down. All fish were released with minimal handling.
As I hike upstream, it always amazes me that the Kildeer, ducks, and herons always fly upstream, ahead of me. They never fly over me to land in the stretches of creek I've just passed.
At the ruined dam that used to impound the water supply for the Kennebec Distillery, I decided to bypass the pool and fish it on the way back. Often I've waded this pool in waist to chest deep water, but not today. It was barely knee deep and mirror smooth as I worked my way around it.
The next pool upstream is the one with an upstream facing ledge (most ledges on most streams face downstream and make little falls). There are always fish here, but as far as bass go, I didn't have what they were looking for this morning. A minnow immitation in the evening may produce better results. A yellow popper and a "Bream Killer" wet fly brought several redbreast and green sunfish to hand. The redbreast sunfish, a relative of the Bluegill, is one of my favorite fish. The vivid orange-red breast is fades upward into beautiful turquoise vermiform markings along the gills. Even the smallest ones are very game on a fly rod. The green sunfish has a characteristically large mouth hinting at its relation to the largemouth bass (which itself is really a sunfish). The creamy yellow accents that outline its fins give this fish a beauty all its own. Before you ever land one, you know when you've got a green sunfish on your line. They hit the fly as faster and harder than many fish. They quickly give up the fight, however.
I continued upstream to the largest pool (in area) that is downstream of the "railroad bridge" pool below Red Bridge. The passage upstream is through a narrow shaded rocky bed that is always cool. It is along this stretch that native mussels survive in Benson. I was glad to see mussels from about the size of a dime all the way up to more than 4 inches along their long axis. I caught a few green sunfish on a wolly bugger. As the day warmed and the wind picked up, I decided to start back.
On the way back downstream, I was careful to observe the mussels. Many had been stranded as the water level got lower. It looked as if some had tried to bury themselves in the sand, to no avail. The raccoons (or maybe skunks) had dug them up and enjoyed them for dinner. Speaking of raccoons, a young sow with one kit and I surprised each other. She sent her young one up a tree and sat on her haunches watching me for a bit before disappearing into the underbrush. She was obviously catching crawdads.
I stopped at the head of the pool behind the dam. The head of the pool is a ledge with a cool spring entering the pool at the base of the ledge. I decided to try a bead-head nymph (about 1/4-inch long) and caught a few. I ended the day fishing a (floating) Madame X. The dark fish rising from the depths to examine the fly, then darting forward in a slashing attack is always a thrill. You have to pay attention and be quick about setting the hook, or you'll miss the fish. As I worked the pool, a Pileated Woodpecker landed in a nearby tree. He rattled the dead branch and I spotted his red head. He called a few times and then flew off again on his woodpecker errands.
All in all, it was a good day to be fishing.
BTW, In case you were wondering, flies were tied with the barbs bent and filed down. All fish were released with minimal handling.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
The implications of growth
If something grows at a specified percentage rate per year (say population at 2%), what does that mean? Albert A. Bartlett explains it simply: divide 70 by that rate and you get the doubling time. Thus, with steady population growth at 2% per year, that population will double in 35 years.
Bartlett argues that the very foundation of western civilization is steady and sustained growth: more people, more energy, more resources, more houses, more roads, more food... He then asks, is this practical? What are the implications? The answer is NO! For example, with steady and sustained growth, it can be shown that there will come a time when, for example, there is one person per square meter of the entire dry land surface of the earth. Or, the entire dry land surface of the earth is covered with roads, houses, food crops, mines, or whatever. These end members all represent impossibilities, the human race and life on Earth couldn't survive any one of these conditions.
Bartlett makes some compelling conclusions.
1. Failure to understand the implications of the exponential function and what it means can have tragic results.
2. No problem (healthcare, food, pestilence and pandemics, energy, clean air, clean water, shelter, whatever) was EVER made better or solved by a continuing and unchecked increase in population. (of course, we all remember Paul Erlich's "Population Bomb")
Bartlett argues that the very foundation of western civilization is steady and sustained growth: more people, more energy, more resources, more houses, more roads, more food... He then asks, is this practical? What are the implications? The answer is NO! For example, with steady and sustained growth, it can be shown that there will come a time when, for example, there is one person per square meter of the entire dry land surface of the earth. Or, the entire dry land surface of the earth is covered with roads, houses, food crops, mines, or whatever. These end members all represent impossibilities, the human race and life on Earth couldn't survive any one of these conditions.
Bartlett makes some compelling conclusions.
1. Failure to understand the implications of the exponential function and what it means can have tragic results.
2. No problem (healthcare, food, pestilence and pandemics, energy, clean air, clean water, shelter, whatever) was EVER made better or solved by a continuing and unchecked increase in population. (of course, we all remember Paul Erlich's "Population Bomb")
Hello all
I've created a blog for the purpose of keeping track of doings at Bald Knob and family discussions. Hopefully, I'll implement an Atom or RSS feed so that it is easy to notify anyone who wants to pay attention of postings. More later.
It is hot, humid, no clouds in the sky. Typical dog days weather has come to central Kentucky early this year. It is so dry, I haven't mowed the lawn in a month and the estivating grass vividly shows the top of the septic tank as a crispy tan patch. (The soil is thin there and doesn't hold much water.) I've written off the raspberries, but we may get a few blackberries. They'll mostly be seeds and I expect they won't be very sweet. The chilis and tomatoes are coming along; nothing is ripe yet.
I've been fishing a few times. Benson Creek is low, but not as low as I've seen it in the past.
It is hot, humid, no clouds in the sky. Typical dog days weather has come to central Kentucky early this year. It is so dry, I haven't mowed the lawn in a month and the estivating grass vividly shows the top of the septic tank as a crispy tan patch. (The soil is thin there and doesn't hold much water.) I've written off the raspberries, but we may get a few blackberries. They'll mostly be seeds and I expect they won't be very sweet. The chilis and tomatoes are coming along; nothing is ripe yet.
I've been fishing a few times. Benson Creek is low, but not as low as I've seen it in the past.
