Category Archives: Wandering


Fungus Hunting

Not sure why I like to go out fungus hunting.

Something about decay has always been attractive.

I have no interest in ever identifying what I find, but that’s true with just about everything I do.

Just another opportunity to be out in the woods, fungus hunting, squirrel hunting, flower hunting. All the same on some level.

It does give me the opportunity to go out blundering through the woods, searching out trees dead standing, dead falls, long dead and rotting trees.

Something relaxing about climbing around all this dead wood. The dead silence of the woods this time of year helps.

Takes a bit of focus I guess, observing rather than just looking.

I’ve been lamenting that most of the shots turn out like crap. Low light, camera shake, disastrous images.

Sunday I was paying attention to what I was doing. A tripod would be worthless here. Nowhere to put it. Trying to figure out where would kill the moment.

I guess I could get a longer lens, set up further away on level ground, zoom in tight.

But that ruins the way I like to do things. Get in tight, within inches, compose as much as possible in the viewfinder so I do virtually no cropping after the fact.

For now, I’ll practice what I know. Slow down my breathing, brace my arms to my sides and at the right moment between slow breaths, push the button.

Doesn’t always work, but I’ll take it.

Did a Death March

Did a death march on a creek on Saturday to see if that’s what was needed to keep from getting bored with fishing.

Almost worked.

Took a left where I thought I was supposed to take a left, but that was a year ago. Left was gone and now it was a stumble down a long hill, through two swamps, careening off trees, bumping my head on low branches, tripping over logs buried in chest high grass and finally arriving at the creek.

Later I would see two deer playing catch me if you can and running through the woods at an unbelievable pace. 150 feet up stream, the same stream I just stumbled down while twisting ankles, they came leaping out of the woods, into the creek, flew across it and disappeared on the other side.

I believe I said loud enough for them to hear me… fuck you.

Well, anyway, back at the creek arrival, now sweating profusely, figured I may as well empty the bladder and refill it with some fresh water. Standing there, patiently, I look down and see what’s below off to the side, a single ray of light through dense trees highlighting it perfectly.

As if it was asking to be found.


The scenery was stunning, the wading brutal, caught 7 smallies which is pathetic and decided to go home afterward rather than try another spot.

Like I said, almost worked.


A Couple of Creek Walks

Went on a couple of creek walks Friday and Saturday. Decided to finally hit the Fox River on Sunday.

I’ll take the creeks.

The fishing in the creeks has been less than spectacular this year, but doing okay is better than doing nothing at all. I still think it’s because we really haven’t had that much rain this spring. Enough to keep things growing, but we’ve had no major high water events on the Fox at all. I think the fish have had no real reason to head up the creeks for their annual spawning run. Why run up a creek if staying in the river is working out just fine.

But, what do I know. I’m no fisheries biologist. I just wander around and observe things, then my brain makes all the connections gathered over the years and draws a conclusion.

The creeks are stunningly beautiful right now. Bright greens of spring, dense under growth, all kinds of flowers and a wide variety of wildlife.

Fishing seems secondary, which it pretty much has become.

My one venture out into the Fox on Sunday resulted in catching one smallie and seeing a gar for the first time ever in this stretch of the river, but not once did I raise my camera to take a picture.

Too wide, too far away, not interesting.

I may have talked myself out of fishing the river much at all this year. The creeks have so much more to offer, at least in terms of sights and sounds.

And if the smallie fishing sucks, so be it. I’ll scale down and play with creek chubs.

The river simply doesn’t provide what I need. The quiet, the closeness, the solitude and the wildlife practically sitting on your shoulder and talking into your ear.

Yup, sounds like I’ve convinced myself.

From Friday’s creek walk:

From Saturday’s creek walk:

From Sunday’s river walk:

I got nuthin’.


For the Love of Creeks

For the love of creeks and what they do for me.

Was going to launch into what a beautiful day it turned out to be today.

Was going to talk about the beneficial health affects wandering creeks has on me.

Was going to go on about the 100’s of bullfrog tadpoles.

About the sights and sounds and smells, especially of the honeysuckle.

Was going to mention all of the birds seen, especially the hawks.

Was going to go on and on about how far up the creek the gar have gone this year and how the removal of the 175 year old, eight foot tall dam a couple of years ago has been a raging success.

But the hell with all that, here’s a bunch of pictures instead.

For the love of creeks and what they do for me.