Ramble with Storm: Kingfisher, bass, RR calisthenics, bird dog, white-winged dove

SHARE Ramble with Storm: Kingfisher, bass, RR calisthenics, bird dog, white-winged dove

Mulling things on my morning ramble

with Storm, the family’s mixed Lab.

Stay with me here. It was an odd morning.

A belted kingfisher sat on a stark branch over the south shore of the north pond long enough for me to try to snap a couple photos with my cell phone.

Some mornings, you just don’t know what to expect.

Normally, kingfishers fly off by the time the meathead and I are within 200 yards. Not this time.

I like kingfishers. Their shape is cool.

Then I noticed several young men or boys scattered around the edge of town pond. Me being me, I talked to them to see if they were doing anything.

And I figured they had to be part of the high school bass team. And they were, the guys were part of some outing by the bass team from Bradley-Bourbonnais.

One of them asked if I had any advice. He was throwing what looked to be a rattling crankbait, not a bad search bait this time of year.

I suggested he move to the other, the north, pond, and fish the weeds on the drop with a Senko or plastic worm. By looks of him though, I think he might have favored the faster fishing of crankbaits.

Well, that was odd enough.

But the strangeness was just beginning.

I get out to the staging area by the main railroad line. I think it is one that goes from Chicago to maybe Indianapolis, whatever it is a main line.

And what do I see but about 20 blaze-orange jacketed tough railroad guys doing stretching calisthenics. It looked like a freaking women’s aerobics class at the Y.

I just about died laughing. Some of the younger bucks saw me laughing and looked away sheepishly.

The reality is that stretching before doing their work is probably a good idea. All the same, it was damm funny.

Another 50 yards, and the tavern bird dog decided to follow us home. Now that made for some serious fun trying to hang on a 75-pound half-Lab while a bird dog sniffed his ass.

Good Lord.

While I am dragging them down Station Street, I see a white-winged dove fly past with a piece of straw in its mouth.

Third time I have seen it in several weeks.

What next.

Back home, I lured the bird dog into the car and drove her back to the tavern.

And that seemed almost normal by this morning’s standards.

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