Royal Fern at Big Soddy Creek photographed by Ray Zimmerman.
Fly Fishing Published in The Avocet, Summer 2020 When I was young and sad I carried a rod of finest cane to a Kansas farm pond; popped blue gill with a deer hair popper. At the next pond up I tied on a Domino Nymph. Black and white it shone. I don’t know what insect it was meant to imitate. You dove deep with that fly, as I kept the rod tip high; then you tail walked across the pond. You broke line and were gone, bigger than any bass I had ever caught. From that day since Nature has been my solace, perhaps from even before but you cemented my naturalist persona and I knew I would always be a fisherman.
Flying fish When fishing, you must take a chance. Be Careful not to snag your pants. Don’t send that hat into the air. No flying fish are waiting there, unless you’re on an ocean wave where some fish fly. They must be brave. They leave their element behind. Too many predators they find. But local fish avoid the sky, unless a large-mouthed bass can fly.
Wren The tiny wren is fierce, with the loudest of bird calls. Feathered and furred creatures beware the vigilant wren. A tasty morsel they could be for any hawk or owl, Hastily they will retreat With hunters on the prowl. They defy those other beings who enter their domain. Accost me daily on my deck and so, I don’t remain. Silently they leave when jays and crows arrive Despite their loud bravado they know how to survive.