Everywhere I go I find a pal

Peter Weinschenk, Editor, The Record-Review

I am making progress.

With temperatures hitting 93 degrees last Thursday, I placed my snow shovels back in the barn.

Winter, I figured, finally was over.

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It was an explosion of nature.

A stroll in waders upstream in the Big Rib River on Saturday revealed nature in a hurry, a dazzling spectacle of life in its many forms.

As the water gurgled by, I marveled at the trees either budding out or forming soft, green leaves. Underneath these trees, ferns uncurled and marsh marigolds decorated the stream band with bright yellow flowers. Ramps and trilliums covered the wet, soggy river bank. Animals were on the move. I saw a ruffed grouse high in a tree, two red foxes and a pair of wood ducks.

The insects had left their winter slumber and were active. I saw a major hatch of both light and dark Hendricksons (Ephemerella subvaria and invaria) pop out of the surface film and hover in the air. Some Adams mayflies carried a large yellow sack of eggs.

I was stunned by everything happening at once. It reminded me of a finale at a Fourth of July fireworks display.

With this rush of spring, it was tough to get the attention of the resident brook and brown trout.

I caught a couple nice fish with dry flies laid on the surface, but I couldn’t figure out what the trout were eating under water. I tossed a number of different nymphs in the fish’s direction, but I was unable to connect. They were picky.

I was in that situation where I see the fish swirl underwater, throw a fly right on the swirl and nothing happens.

The fish’s poor response could have been caused by the recent heat spell. The river water was not cold, as is normal this year, but was distinctly tepid, holding onto last week’s 90-degree days.

Maybe the fish were just lazy.

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I used my hat to swoop and get a mayfly on the Big Rib River on Saturday.

I put on my 4X eyeglasses and checked out the creature as it crawled around my headband. It was brownish with charcoal-colored wings. The insect wiggled its arching abdomen. Its little antennae twirled about.

I reflected on how prehistoric, dinosaurlike the lifeform was. But, then, I paid attention to its wings, remembered that this creature could fly and I could not.

I asked who was the greater creature, me or this mayfly.

In my case, I said, I live in a wooden house, am capable of spoken and written language, am able to eat a variety of things and use tools, including an electric toothbrush, a push lawnmower and a Dell computer.

The mayfly, on the other hand, I said, could live both underwater and out of the water, and could hover in mid-air with the beating of its highly evolved, paper thin wings. The insect didn’t need tools. It needed minimal effort to be happy on the planet.

I couldn’t decide who was the superior creature. We’re all pretty good in our own way.