Here and there

Ooops. In my June 5th column I reported that the Upper Delaware Chapter of Trout Unlimited had planted the last of 2,900 willow slips along the banks of Delaware River tributaries. I have to admit to being mathematically challenged. Several members pointed out to me that the correct figure is 3,900 willow slips. OK, OK, so what are a thousand or so willows between friends? Everybody’s a critic. Next time, I need to add up such a large sum I’ll use the electronic calculator that Barbara Ann works with instead of the one between my ears.

Like most fishermen, the Complete Tangler’s time on the water has been nil since the last column. I cannot remember the last time the Delaware and its branches were so high at this time of year. Even the tributaries have been considerably higher than I like for fishing.

Just before the last series of deluges arrived, my upstream neighbor, Tom Brown, had a great evening on one of the branches of the Delaware. During a Green Drake hatch, Tom took several brown trout in the fourteen-inch range and then at dusk took a twenty-three and a twenty-five inch brown, big fish on any river, east or west. These fish were taken on a parachute Green Drake dun imitation.

The next evening the Graham brothers and I were on the East Branch, and we witnessed a tremendous Coffin Fly spinner fall. The Coffin Fly is the final stage of the Green Drake may fly. Despite all of the flies, the section of the pool we had elected to fish showed not a single rising trout. We stayed in the river until dark, hoping, but the rise of fish never occurred. Nothing is ever certain in fly-fishing for trout, especially on the Delaware or the branches.

In an odd turn of events, the Fullerton’s cabin has been adopted by, of all things, a peacock. Three of them showed up one morning by our garage. At first, they hung together like the three musketeers. For the last few days, however, we have seen only one, which I have nicknamed Lulu. She allows me to come within six feet of her.

Lulu’s diet seems to consist mainly of bugs, grass and the seed heads of some of the taller grasses on the property. I did discover, by accident, that she is also fond of salted peanuts and apple cores. The mystery is where this bird came from. Is someone out there missing a peacock or three? While Lulu seems quite self-sufficient for now, I wonder what will become of her once winter arrives.

We have a bird box bolted to a locust post containing a family of swallows. While foraging this morning, poor Lulu wandered close to the post supporting this box. She seemed to show some interest in the box. Perhaps she could hear young ones inside.

At any rate, she stretched her neck up towards the box, but was at least two or three feet short. This was a big mistake on her part. At once, one of the swallows gave a great imitation of a P51 Mustang strafing an enemy target. A second and a third swallow followed, and in minutes, Lulu was beset by six swallows intent on driving her away from the vicinity of the nesting box.

Lulu did her best to bob and weave, even occasionally giving an odd hop or two to avoid her tormentors. Eventually, she moved far enough towards the cabin that the swallows declared victory and broke off their attacks.

Lulu does not care for the hot sun anymore than we humans do. Once the day becomes unbearably hot, she seeks a shady spot along the foundation and nestles against the concrete. She is a very quiet bird, not at all like the cock pheasant calling loudly from down by the river until 10:00 or so in the morning. As a fly tier, I have been checking carefully to see if Lulu has dropped any useable feathers. So far, she has not given me any unintentional gifts.

If anyone is missing a peacock, contact me through The River Reporter, and you can have her back.

Hopefully, as the river and branches drop, the Tangler will be able to boast of some great success, but more likely, another report of frustrating failure. Stay tuned.