“NorthWind Fishing Posture”


(March 6, 2019)

hunched into the wind

chill wind fishing by the lake*

while slow noon strolls by

*(Lake Monroe forms most of Sanford, Florida’s northern boundary. It’s four-mile average width, coupled with its 11-mile length, East-to-West, gives plenty of time for a steady after-cold-front breeze to find all the chill it needs on a north-north westerly flow. Even the joggers and walkers – mostly – dress warm in their sometimes sweaty pursuits. To sit at a seawall, perched on a bucket with a canepole’s worth of line, hook, bait, weight-n-bobber flung into the wind – and with enough led split shot – hopefully hang there for any damnfool fish still hungry enough not to have fled South for warmer water, takes a special kind of hunger. Use a bait-casting rod and reel in the face of a steady breeze into your face and you earn serious points at the local loonybin. Knowing as I do the still undiminished levels of mercury and other contaminants in the upper reaches of the Saint Johns River’s apex food chain – of which the prized and delicious Speckled Perch (Black Crappie to you Yankees) – with but few challengers such as the Largemouth Bass, and good sense commands fish for food elsewhere. I don’t believe eating a couple-three specs will harm anyone my age, that is just approaching death’s door, but who knows, I might be sentenced here for corrective measures long enough to forget myself and eat more than a rightful whole mess of specs with buckets of tartar sauce, hush puppies by the dumptruckload, cole slaw by the cabbage patch with requisite green and red bell pepper, sweet onions and green onions with tops, shredded carrot and for fun a light sprinkling of black sesame seeds, and baked beans with half-a-hog for seasonin’ with mustard, ketchup, brown sugar and maple syrup enough to cause harm to my innards. The outtards already have had their share of harms, thankee so very little.)

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