Where are the tout !!!!!

[hankaye]

Otter, Howdy;

Gettin' my interest up now.
You're not givin' us much with each offering.....
helps build the suspence I reckon. That's OK.
You're the spinner of the story....

hank & Rascal (woof)

[Otter]

Hank that would make me wonderfully clever. Reason is I am away from home and typing on a iPhone

[hankaye]

Otter, Howdy;

My phone just behaves like a phone.....
Had the store clerk disable everything except the phone parts...

hank

[Otter]

Re-enable the sat nav hank. You will need it where you are going.

[hankaye]

Otter, Howdy;

OK ...

h & R

[willowhead]

Still haven't fished since we were out west.........health has not gotten better........other than for a few days at a time. Gotta hit the road again in three weeks...........just tryin' to get somewhat better before that..............glad to see you back at it Norm. If i'm not able to keep up.......well.......i'll just try to do my best. Just gettin' a fly or two done each day, vacumming the house etc., keepin' the garbage goin' out to the cans, doin' the grocery shoppin, post office, and banks between doctor visits, makin' meetings, and soliciting donations for Sowbug around this part of the county, is bout all i can handle right now........

[Otter]

Get well soon Willow

[Otter]

Hank did not sleep very well, a few parking fines and one speeding ticket were the only blemishes from a long life of walking on the right side of the law. Yet he was ready to embark on a crusade that would see him turn poacher. As much as he could justify his reasons and though the prospect of a little subterfuge made him feel more alive than he had felt in years he could not avoid the conflict that his conscience kept throwing at him. ‘Howdy Hank, are you sure about this. Hank the poacher, Hank the poacher. What will our forum friends think of this. ‘; his conscience would not let up. Hank looked at the clock, 5 AM, he got out of bed and filled the kettle.

Splashing some water on his face he stared at the mirror and set his resolve, ‘Howdy Hank, this crusade is for the little man, for the little man that refuses to pay a season ticket for a few months. This is a kick in the butt for the faceless bureaucrats that set rules without really considering could they set them better.’; Hank felt better, full of resolve and excited at doing something that sent his blood coursing through his veins with the vigour of youth. He hadn’t felt like this since his first childhood raid on a neighbours orchard.

As he sipped his coffee Hank reflected on his plan of attack, contemplating each detail, making sure no stone had been left unturned. Well satisfied that he had covered all possibilities, Hank dressed, the final pieces of clothing being Dougsdens camouflage jacket and a dark woollen hat. The sampling net was secure in the little pouch in the jacket and he placed several empty film canisters in one of the pockets. As the first rays of sunlight came through the window Hank gave Rascal a nudge. Staring up at Hank, Rascal yelped with excitement, he knew that some adventure was about to enfold, jumped onto the passenger seat, urging Hank to start the engine.

It took an hour to reach the parking area beside the river, it was nearly 7AM. The early morning mist was lifting and Hank could see the river sparkling between the trees. Hank filled the kettle and prepared a breakfast for himself and Rascal. Rascal loved crisply fried bacon, a real treat, and when he received an extra portion he looked at Hank enquiringly before devouring it. Rascal bounded from the RV when Hank opened the door, sniffed around the wheels before disappearing into the trees to mark his new territory. The crisp morning air soon cleared the smell of bacon from the RV and Hank breathed in deeply, savouring being alive, more alive than he felt in years.

As Rascal went about his business Hank gathered up his remaining tools, binoculars, 2 notepads and a pencil.

TBC

[letumgo]

<--- me after reading today's addition by Norm.

[Otter]

Hank locked the door of the RV he started to shiver, a bad dose of cold feet as they say. ‘ Aggh, what the hell, Hank you only live once !!!!! ‘, he whistled and soon rascal was by his side. A few minutes later having crossed the road they were making their way down through the trees to the river. The terrain was rough and tested his backcountry skills but Hank was not found wanting and his sprightly and sure footsteps belied his age. Halfway down Hank stopped, took out the binoculars and surveyed the terrain, a few rabbits frolicking alongside a small ditch and a few birds were the only sign of life. As expected from all his reconnaissance they were alone and free to commence operations. Reaching the river, they followed it downstream for about a mile, reaching a small clearing Hank stopped. He had chosen this spot carefully, in front some shallow water, upstream a nice pool with good tree cover. The bank was slightly elevated and allowed a good view up and downstream, the few trees that were there carried quite a bit of foliage, enough to provide reasonable cover from prying eyes. ‘Base camp Rascal, this is where it all begins, the Ranger should be along in 40 minutes.’.

Finding a suitable tree Hank broke of a branch of about four foot long, stripping of any side branches and then taking Rascals lead from his pocket , he tied it to the branch and admiring his handy work he laughed, ‘ not bad Rascal, maybe we should get into selling wading sticks.’ Rascal was not the least bit impressed at his lead being used and sulked at Hanks feet.

Hank made for the river and at the edge he beckoned Rascal, ‘ Sit Rascal, stay, watch ‘. Reaching into the pouch , he retrieved the sampling net and carefully inserted the cleverly crafted pieces together. Standing in water no more than two foot deep he started sampling, holding the net tight to the bottom he shuffled in reverse upstream, using his feet to disturb the bottom. A small cloud of silt drifted down , the outline of the net quickly disappearing in the murky water. After a few yards he lifted the net and headed for dry land, laying the net carefully on the grass. It took a few minutes to remove sticks, stones and other debris from the net and soon Hank was investigating the invertebrates that squirmed around the net. Hank turned to Rascal, ‘We need a fine plastic tweezers and a small white dish, its hard to catch this little mites. Remind me to-morrow’. He recognised a few bugs as being nymphs , some as small as 1mm others at least 6mm, a big wriggler he reckoned to be free swimming caddis, some cased caddis , and ‘ Hey Rascal, some shrimp in here’. Sounded like food to Rascal so he wagged his tail in delight, fully expecting Hank to offer him some morsels.




Taking one of the film canisters from his pocket he half filled it with water and as best as he could manage he emptied the contents of the net into the canister. When the free swimming caddis bounced of the rim and fell into the grass Hank dived on it, grabbed a few handfuls of grass and whooped with delight when he located the poor creature. Dropping it into the canister he replaced the lid and stowed it away carefully in an inside pocket. ‘ Its official Rascal , we are gonna be fully qualified entomologostists or what ever the word is’. Standing up smartly, Hank did a little Indian dance, thinking to himself , ‘Man its good to be alive’

Rascal raised his ears , staring upstream he pawed the ground catching Hanks attention. Good said Hank, that will be the ranger. He quickly entered the water and started sampling.

TBC