It’s a War Zone out There

North of the river from where I live are fields of corn and soybeans, virtually all harvested. I’ve been seeing hundreds of ducks and geese every day for the last few weeks. In those fields, on some nearby ponds and quite a few coming to the Fox River below my house at sunset. I can hear them late into the night, honking and squawking about something.

Saturday was the first day of waterfowl season in Northern Illinois. I walked out my door a little before 7 AM to go fishing. Sunrise was at 7:14. You can start shooting a half hour before sunrise. A loud volley went off before I got to my car.

I fished further upstream, about 10 miles. Here the river flows almost due south. To the west are more fields, more ponds and tucked into all this are islands of subdivisions. The shooting was almost constant. Based on three rounds in a shotgun and how many shots were being fired, there were 5-10 hunters in each blind. Ground blinds I’m assuming. I would check the time whenever I heard the shots. I wanted to know how long this would last. I checked after one volley and it was 9:45 AM. That was it, didn’t hear another shot after that.

Part of me gets a perverse pleasure out of knowing that residents of these island subdivisions are being awakened early on a Saturday morning by a barrage of gunfire. I guess their association should have mentioned that before the house was bought.

Fog off the river and low fog drifting overhead kept the light levels down. Clear skies would have killed the bite, if there was to be one. First spot produced a couple of fish, so I welcomed the fog and hoped it would stick around for awhile.

I enjoy the closeness of fog. It’s ability to keep you focused on what is near you. No distractions because you simply can’t see them. It also seems to kill off the surrounding noises. Nothing but running water, ducks and geese, I could hear the beaver swimming across the river not far from me.

The peak fall colors happened a couple of weeks ago. Fewer leaves on the trees and even then, not much color left to them. Vines on an old fence were still lit up bright red and other than that, the scenery is starting to take on the brown grays of the coming winter.

Fishing in semi-urban areas means tolerating the bad habits of others. If I were to collect all the garbage I come across while wading areas like this, I would have to have a couple of canoes in tow. I could easily fill both to overflowing.

The channel I fished has a large island making up one of the shores. Most of the bigger islands on the Fox have deer populations. I see them all the time. Sticking their heads out of the dense brush to watch me as I wade by and crossing the river to head back to the main land, in this case I’m sure to browse in the big field of trees and grass.

These must have waited till I passed by to make a run for it.

Whenever I finish fishing in this area, I cross the channel and wander onto the island. Buried in the trees and brush are the remnants of an old hunting shack. I never have asked if I can deer hunt on these islands. I know waterfowl is off limits, the shore on one side lost it’s rural look many years ago. But bow hunting deer? I don’t see why not. Today I had another doe staring me down as I wandered onto the island, then spooked a big buck that luckily decided to run from me rather than hold its ground.

Years ago I lived in Elmhurst. To mitigate a flooding problem in a low spot at the back of the yard, I planted prairie plants. One of the plants that grew was pokeweed. I once watched robins devouring the berries that appear in the fall. They would then go sit on the nearby wires, start wavering like a drunk and fall off the wire. Then they would go eat more of the berries and start over.

In the stretch that I fished today, with the drought and low water we’ve had this year, a gravel bar that normally has nothing growing on it is now covered in pokeweed.

After watching the robins years ago I did a bit of research on pokeweed and I distinctly remember reading that the berries, when ingested, are a hallucinogen. They never did say how many berries you had to eat and I’ve been reluctant to give it a try. I can no longer find that reference, but I did find that the berries have been used in the past as a treatment for arthritis. I can live with that, my bones hurt a bit more each passing year.

I read about a guy that has been eating five berries a day for years to help with his arthritis and he insists the berries work.

Or maybe he’s just too stoned to care about the pain at that point.

If I get up the nerve to give this a try, I’ll let you know the outcome.

Either one would work for me.