Making friends
My friend, Biscuit Head.
The Ohio River was up some 5-6 feet above normal pool, but I couldn’t wait anymore to explore the lower McAlpine pool. The 4:30am wake up was way too early but the traffic for the hour drive to the ramp was worth it. I arrived at daybreak and launched into the dimmest of light…not the smartest decision since there was still quite a bit of drift.
As I cut across the river to get a better view of sunrise, I decided to beach on a small mud shore on the Kentucky side. The river was like glass, the air was crisp and cool and my second cup of coffee nearly gone. I only mention that it was my second cup because any man 60+ years old understands the simple math…Second cup of coffee + a drive of 45 or more minutes = a bathroom must be secured and quickly!
In this case, I laid down my camera in the driver’s seat and stepped off the bow into the mud to find a tree. The sun was just clearing the hills of Southern Harrison County as I decided to check out the small beach for artifacts. And then, without warning I heard the very loud and distinctive slap of a beaver tail! I have heard/witnessed this act many times as it is their way of warning, in this case me, that I am too close. The funny part is I had no idea where they came from. I say they because she (Sex is assumed and assigned by me for the purpose telling this tale. No beavers were harmed in the assigning of this sex!) had a very young kit with her. I have seen young before, this little one’s head was about the size of a biscuit…not your run of the mill biscuit either, but a Pillsbury Homestyle Grands Biscuit. Thus his (also assumed) name.
Her first tail slap was so close to the right back corner that it splashed quite a bit of water into my boat, her second was several seconds later, then she dove and disappeared under the sky’s reflection. Surprisingly, little Biscuit Head didn’t dive with her, as a matter of fact he went to the other side of the boat and started swimming in concentric circles, maybe 10-12 feet across. I thought sure he would depart as I stepped into the boat to retrieve my wet camera. He did not. As I lifted my lens and started making adjustments to the new level of light, I heard yet another slap from mom, some 40-50 yards down river. Biscuit Head didn’t waver, his interest in me was as great as my interest in him. Mom continued with a slap every few seconds…reminding me of when I was young and my mother wanted me to come along, and right NOW…instead of a tail slap it was a foot stomp and a wide-eyed frozen stare. Having a thick head like my little friend Biscuit Head, I saw that stare hundreds of times.
After taking 15-20 safety shots, I lowered my camera to just enjoy the encounter. After mom’s 10th or so slap he exited his circle pattern and started paddling his little heart out in her direction. I thanked God the encounter.
Adventure before dementia.
Making friends
My friend, Biscuit Head.
The Ohio River was up some 5-6 feet above normal pool, but I couldn’t wait anymore to explore the lower McAlpine pool. The 4:30am wake up was way too early but the traffic for the hour drive to the ramp was worth it. I arrived at daybreak and launched into the dimmest of light…not the smartest decision since there was still quite a bit of drift.
As I cut across the river to get a better view of sunrise, I decided to beach on a small mud shore on the Kentucky side. The river was like glass, the air was crisp and cool and my second cup of coffee nearly gone. I only mention that it was my second cup because any man 60+ years old understands the simple math…Second cup of coffee + a drive of 45 or more minutes = a bathroom must be secured and quickly!
In this case, I laid down my camera in the driver’s seat and stepped off the bow into the mud to find a tree. The sun was just clearing the hills of Southern Harrison County as I decided to check out the small beach for artifacts. And then, without warning I heard the very loud and distinctive slap of a beaver tail! I have heard/witnessed this act many times as it is their way of warning, in this case me, that I am too close. The funny part is I had no idea where they came from. I say they because she (Sex is assumed and assigned by me for the purpose telling this tale. No beavers were harmed in the assigning of this sex!) had a very young kit with her. I have seen young before, this little one’s head was about the size of a biscuit…not your run of the mill biscuit either, but a Pillsbury Homestyle Grands Biscuit. Thus his (also assumed) name.
Her first tail slap was so close to the right back corner that it splashed quite a bit of water into my boat, her second was several seconds later, then she dove and disappeared under the sky’s reflection. Surprisingly, little Biscuit Head didn’t dive with her, as a matter of fact he went to the other side of the boat and started swimming in concentric circles, maybe 10-12 feet across. I thought sure he would depart as I stepped into the boat to retrieve my wet camera. He did not. As I lifted my lens and started making adjustments to the new level of light, I heard yet another slap from mom, some 40-50 yards down river. Biscuit Head didn’t waver, his interest in me was as great as my interest in him. Mom continued with a slap every few seconds…reminding me of when I was young and my mother wanted me to come along, and right NOW…instead of a tail slap it was a foot stomp and a wide-eyed frozen stare. Having a thick head like my little friend Biscuit Head, I saw that stare hundreds of times.
After taking 15-20 safety shots, I lowered my camera to just enjoy the encounter. After mom’s 10th or so slap he exited his circle pattern and started paddling his little heart out in her direction. I thanked God the encounter.
Adventure before dementia.