Fishies! And maybe a...Buckeye?

The Farley's Fish Farm truck made its bi-monthly run to the Hawkins County Farmer's Co-op yesterday. This big fish-farming outfit in Arkansas comes to Rural America to stock our ponds (for a price, of course). Bill usually undertakes this chore, so it was my first time hanging out with the local folks in the hot parking lot, waiting in line, first to order and pay, then to pick up my Bags 'o Fish. It took about an hour. I tried chatting up my queuemates, but they were having none of it. Must be my accent...



I bought 5 Channel Catfish, 5 Large-mouth Bass, 10 Redear Bream, 20 Hybrid Bluegill, and 2 cups of Fathead Minnows. And yes, that's a dead minnow "floater" in that pix. They didn't charge me for that particular one, I hope.

The program is to get them home within the hour, then pour your pond water in the bag (we call this technique "tempering" in culinary lingo, when you're making a custard or delicate sauce). Wait 5 minutes, then ease them into the murky depths. Then they all swim away, and you never see them again (unless you spot them in the jaws of the big blue heron, standing on your dock).


I'm not sure this is an economical proposition, but in all things fish-related, I defer to Bill's expertise. He said, "Go buy fish and put them in the pond." I merely follow instructions.


Fish-man himself is due home early next week! The plan is that he will be "relieved of duty" on Sunday, and presumably on a plane by the 13th. Due to the mystery that is the International Date Line, he will arrive an actual 23 hours later, but right about the same time that he left. I am more than a half-century old, and I still don't understand this. I am so ashamed.


On the Mysterious Plant front, I think we may have a winner:




The 5-leaf clusters are the key here, I think. It could possibly be a Sourwood, which has the characteristic 5, but the leaves aren't shiny. Elms and beeches were also considered, but come in threes, not fives. So, for now I'm holding out for the lowly Buckeye. I will continue to observe (highly-trained botanist that I am?), and report back as needed.


Helicopters were flying overhead yesterday. My normal state of mild government-paranoia always kicks in, worrying that some yahoo has climbed up my Devil's Nose Mountain and planted an (ahem) illegal crop on my land. Marijuana is the #1 agricultural product in Tennessee, but something I don't want anything to do with. What would I say if the helicopter guys suddenly started coming down on La Casa Redondo on zip-lines, brandishing Roundup sprayers and accusing me of illicit farming? (Drug-test me RIGHT NOW? Where's your warrant? I want a lawyer? I just don't know...) If I told them I was a cancer patient, they'd bust me right on the spot for sure! You know how we are.


Once, many years ago, my friend Leslie and I were hiking in Kauai and stumbled into someone's cash-crop field. We stopped immediately, put our hands on our heads, and backed out quickly and quietly. It was almost as if I could feel the "red dot" of a laser scope on my forehead. This is how I remember it--I don't even know if such things were invented yet back then. But we were very nervous, and justifiably so. The problem isn't so much the drug itself as the illegal nature of it, pushing people who are involved to extreme behaviors, either to prosecute or protect.

This is one of the reasons I walk on the property everyday, alert to any changes or sign that strangers have been in the woods. But apparently, I passed inspection. Or the helicopters have nothing to do with my paranoid fantasies at all, perhaps just transiting the sky on their way to somewhere else.


It's a very good thing that Bill is coming home soon. It's pretty obvious that I have WAY too much time alone in my world, and need a more rational companion to debunk my daily musings and speculative nonsense.