Houghton Lake Ice Fishing 2015 No Ice Yet

 Day 20

There is no joy in shanty town because there's no ice and no telling how soon there will be. Last year at this time there was already an ice angler on the lake. Ill advised to be sure but every year someone has to try for bragging rights, to be the first fisherman on the ice. No matter how dangerous. So far this year there is not even a hint of ice. Whitecaps can still be seen in a high wind.

The reason as I understand it is a tropical storm called El Nino (there's a tilde above the n you just can't see it). This causes warm air to work it's way north giving us in Michigan a mild winter. The last time we had one of these tropical storms the lake barely iced over in time for Tip Up Town in late January.

My rule of thumb is when the temperature drops below 50 degrees I put my boat away. If a warm spell comes through I go to Reedsburg and fish from shore. I seldom trudge out onto the lake for ice fishing so I don't mind a nice warm winter. It keeps my heating bill down. But many people here do enjoy winter fishing. The proof is in the number of fishing shanties on the lake when the ice is thick enough. Groups of shanties pop up as fisherman return to their favorite fishing spot. Others just assume the fishing must be good wherever there is a large number of wooden shacks. Mostly people fish near a bait and tackle store for the convenience and the parking.

The last couple of years the temperatures have been at record lows and the ice thickness may have hit records too. This is great for snowmobiles and quad runners but the extra thick ice took a toll on fishing with higher than normal winter kill numbers. This is the number of fish that die during the winter due to low oxygen levels caused by the ice limiting the amount of sun getting to the vegetation which produces oxygen.

Some of the smaller bodies of water were hit hard and fishing has not been as good as in past years. Two of my favorite small fishing areas Reedsburg Dam and Backus Lake were definitely down the past two years. I want everyone to have a good fishing experience in the winter time, but if the fish population isn't given a chance to survive, the sport will suffer in the long run.

When I see some ice I'll be sure to let my readers know. Come back again, come back often.

Until tomorrow,

Ken

It Ain't Easy Looking Like Santa During the Holidays

Day 19

It's not easy looking like Santa Claus around November and December or even in January. All of you portly men out there with the gray or white hair and beard, know what I am talking about. It's a difficult responsibility to represent a true icon of the season. Even if you don't do it professionally you have a certain level of decorum that must be upheld, that is to say, you must be good for goodness sake.

When strolling through the local shopping mall (not for the faint of heart) some finger pointing, toothy grins and whispering are to be expected. Also swarms of children gathering around you, making a quick escape near impossible. If you should fall prey to the joys of young children confiding in you their most secretive desired toy for Christmas, the one they won't be able to live without, expect two unpleasant possibilities.

The first possibility is the shop keeper, who is paying a professional Santa to draw the children and the parents into his store, will call mall security and accuse you of being a wanted felon. Thus eliminating the competition for the tykes attentions and drawing them back into his store where the real Santa is waiting with candy canes and promises of on time deliveries from the store.

The second possibility is the child will ask for something the parents have no desire or ability to purchase. This will place you between a persistent child and the tired, quick tempered parent(s). A wrong answer here results in a crying child; or a parent who wants to do you bodily harm. Either way it will most likely attract the attention of the glory seeking mall cop. Which will result in your detention in a small white room smelling of cheap cologne from the teenager who was trying to shoplift some costume jewelry for his imaginary girlfriend. A most unpleasant way to spend an evening.

Then there's January. When disappointed children run up to you and grill you for answers explaining why they didn't receive the requested item for Christmas, or why should they be "nice" if Santa's not going to come across with the goods? After a swift kick to your shin they walk away. But take heart it's nothing personal. Their anger is for the mall store Santa. If you see the lying jerk I say pay it froward and kick him in both shins and let him know who it was from.

To avoid the discomfort my suggestion is; Just for Men hair dye, or hibernate until spring when the season of good will toward men is over. If neither of these solutions appeals then my third option is go to your local thrift store and purchase some soccer shin guards.

Until tomorrow then,

Ken

Happy Thanksgiving From Me to You

Day 18

On this day I am thankful:

For another year to make amends for the wrongs I have done

For my faith, which like a candle in the window guides me home

For family and friends whose love surrounds me like a warm blanket on a cold winters night

For all of my readers

Happy Thanksgiving,

Ken

Here's a Shot of Wild Turkey

Day 17

It's the day before Thanksgiving and the day started in the usual way which I won't elaborate on here. I dragged my feet into the kitchen to find the coffee wasn't made. Probably because I hadn't made it. While the coffee maker was spitting out the dark, bitter brew that makes my mornings bearable, a thought occurred to me that I should wash the dinner dishes from the night before. This is called multi-tasking.

I began filling the sink and glanced out of the window to see how much snow was left on the ground (the previous day had been warm). When what to my bloodshot eyes should appear? The two legged delight from many a Thanksgiving dinner. There must have been thirty of them or more, both young and old. I've noticed some very late hatchlings this past summer. It must have something to do with the very cold and harsh winters we've had recently. I watched them as they slowly turkey trot past my window. The tom turkey coming up the rear gave me the stink eye with his beard bristling.

I grabbed my new cell phone with the built in camera and tried to take a shot of wild turkey, but the window was too dirty for a clear picture. The front of the procession had gone around the end of my house so I went to the front doorwall. As soon as I slid it open my old tom cat leapt inside and turned to see if he had been followed. My cat is a bad ass when their sparrows, but not so tough with wild turkeys as large as a medium size dog.

I soon realized the phone wouldn't do. So I grabbed my 35mm Nikon. After my first attempt to get the shot, the turkeys had turned around and headed for the back of my neighbors house. Quickly I followed them trying to a picture but I didn't have the 200mm zoom lens on the camera and I couldn't get close enough.

I returned with the stronger lens in a jiffy but the birds had already flown the coup. It's all good though, tomorrows turkey won't be going anywhere but my belly.

Until then,

Ken

Star Wars The Force Awakens: Where No Movie has Gone Before

Day 16

Let me clear this up first. I know “To boldly go where no man has gone before” is the opening for Star Trek not Star Wars.

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Now to the point, which is $50 million in pre-release tickets being sold for the next installment of the Star Wars franchise now produced by Disney. Already $50 million and still 3 weeks before the opening. Thus far only Daniel Fleetwood, the fan who had terminal cancer, has seen it. Disney granted his request for a private showing because doctors told him he wouldn't live until the December opening. Disney agreed, quite graciously, and allowed Mr. Fleetwood to see the unfinished product. He passed away not long after. May the force be with him.

Back in 1977 when the first installment came out I refused to see it. I thought, seriously, who wants to see a movie with a name like Star Wars. It's right up there with Plan 9 from Outer Space (an Ed Wood piece of B trash). When the movie had been selling out for six months at the largest indoor screen in the Detroit area, the Americana theater, I figured it was worth a look. As I stood in line for 24 hour advance tickets, something unheard of in 1977, I was praying this was not another cult following like Rocky Horror Picture Show (Rocky Horror generally only played at midnight to hardcore fans shouting at the movie screen and occasionally dancing along with actors).

So when the lights went down and the opening story lines reverse rolled up and away from the audience, a nice effect, I thought it might not be so bad. A few minutes later came the sound of massive engines booming over the theater sound system as the most detailed spaceship I had ever seen in a movie cruised down the screen as if flying overhead. George Lucas had created a miracle of special effects. I was blown away and became an instant lifetime Star Wars fan. I have seen all of the movies numerous times and have read many of the over 100 books. A must for any Star Wars fan as the books answer many questions, such as how is a lightsaber made. Hint: very carefully.

My only regret at this time is that with the early success of the most recent addition it could be six months before it even makes it to the Pines our small town movie theater. Until it does I'll wait with anticipation of the new marvels that await.

So I learned long ago that while we should not judge a book by it's cover, it is also true we should not judge a movie by it's title. Until tomorrow.

Ken

Bad Kitty and a Kindle Fire

Day 15

If you have been reading Houghton Lake Adventures you'll probably remember that I purchased a Kindle Fire 7 a couple of weeks ago, mostly for the purpose of reading free classic books on Amazon. So far it has served that purpose admirably.

I enjoy reading in the evening when I retire to my bed. I generally lay on my stomach and prop the Kindle up on the headboard. Sometimes I lie on my back but normally I lay on my stomach.

I have two cats; one male, one female. The male is known by several names depending on his mood. Usually I call him Pretty Boy. 

Now Pretty Boy is a big orange tabby tomcat and he likes to sleep with me at night. When I go to bed he joins me. After walking back and forth between my Kindle and myself he'll sit down to the right, then scootch up as close as possible to the edge of the reader and ever so slowly lower his head toward the other side.

I move the Kindle to my left until it is perched on the very edge of the bed. Again I have a clear view of the 7” screen. The Kindle Fire 7, like other tablets has a touchscreen. When I want to turn the page I just tap or swipe the screen. I suspect Pretty Boy knows this and occasionally bats or swipes the screen with his paw. He places his paw on the screen and the page turns several times. I get angry. I shoo Pretty Boy away.

A moment later he comes back and lays down with his backside facing the Kindle. I scratch his ears. He swings his tail in a circle like a pitcher winding up for the fastball. Thump. He hits the screen. The page turns but I can't tell if it went forward or backward. I try forward. Thump goes the tail. Pretty Boy purrs. I search for the lost page, but I can't remember what I read last. Back, back, back to a page I remember reading. Going forward, rereading each page until I finally reach my previous place.

Pretty Boy looks at me. He smiles and purrs loudly and before I can chase him away...thump, thump, thump. He gets off three lightning quick shots. A real gunslinger shooting from the hip. I scream. He yawns, stretches and begins to clean his tail. Then he kneads my brand new bedspread comforter with his claws. Finished he moves away and curls up on the other side of the bed. Gotta love 'em.

Until tomorrow,

Ken

Sunday Dinner and a Tic Tac

Day 14

In days gone by Sunday afternoon a short ride in the family car to grandmas for dinner. I grew up in the Royal Oak, a suburb of Detroit, and grandma lived just a few city blocks away with her second husband whom I called grandpa. The smell of chicken and hot grease filled the small two bedroom house. My grandma loved to cook and her fried chicken was legendary.

Grandma raised my father as a divorced mother during the Great Depression. She worked as waitress and my father would sell vegetables from the garden for extra money. They lived in a small studio apartment above a garage and the extra money helped pay the rent. During those years she learned to conserve everything. Including the grease she used to fry the chicken. After frying, when the grease had cooled she would pour it back into the container and save it for next time. I suspect that was part of the reason her chicken tasted so special.

My brother and I would tear off our coats the instant we came through the side door. The house would be so warm from the cooking in the kitchen, we broke out in a sweat even on a winter day. The yard seemed so big because the lot next to the house was empty. My brother and I spent many a day imaging we were secret agents or big hunters in deepest, darkest Africa. We had no Gameboy or Xbox. No cable tv or internet. Just a branch fallen out of a tree or an occasional cardboard box and our imaginations. It was all we needed.

I moved to northern Michigan shortly after my grandma passed away. She was 97. The last few years of her life were spent in a nursing home. She wanted so much to leave but she couldn't get out of bed. My visits grew farther in between as she would always ask me to take her home and I would make up some reason why I couldn't.

It's Sunday and I go to visit my mom. I know there will be no fried chicken. My grandma and my mom were polar opposites. My mom knows basic cooking but she would rather not. At the place she's living she pays monthly for three meals a day. She complains about each and every meal. Yet she won't cook in her room. I eat either before or after I visit. While I'm there, if I'm lucky, she'll offer me a Tic Tac. Just one. Who eats just one Tic Tac?

Until next time.

Ken