Pickles The Parrot: A Humorous Look At Life With An African Grey Read Online Free PDF Page B

friendly Jack is poised on your knee awaiting
a morsel. Unbelievable! You're so caught up in the moment that you
don't care that you've just fed $20.00 worth of Jerky to your
feathered friends.
    What's that noise?! Huge buzzing mosquitos?
Ahhh, hummingbirds! At least a dozen, tiny delicate bodies hovering
and dive-bombing each other in competition for the sugary water
you've hung in the nearby Lodgepole tree. The sun glances off their
chests reflecting brilliant colors like cut crystal, colors you
never knew existed. One bird dives out of nowhere, a direct hit on
an unsuspecting hummer sitting and feeding contently on his perch.
He falls to the ground as your heart sinks with him. Collecting his
little body and cupping him in your palm, you realize he is merely
stunned. He sits, all fluffed up in a little ball, staring into
your face. You’re certain that when he comes to his senses he will
spear you with his needle-like beak, but he doesn't. A few minutes
pass, a final glance and he's up, up and away.
    Breakfast is a leisurely meal consisting of
overcooked bacon and eggs accompanied by burnt campfire toast.
Delicious! By the second cup of coffee the lake is making it's
appearance from below the mist. Almost reluctantly you begin to
unpack your gear and put your rods together. After much anguishing
over the fly box, an interesting looking maroon sparkle leech is
chosen to grace the end of your sinking line. A good pattern to
start with, good for searching out fish.
    On the way to the boat launch you stop at the
spawning channel. You’re feeling a little like a voyeur but the
feeling quickly passes as you get caught up in the dance of the
fish. One female, balanced on her side, violently thrashes the
gravel bottom with her tail over and over, desperately working on
the perfect bed to lay her eggs. A large, hook jawed male valiantly
chases off would-be suitors and displays the wounds of previous
battles. Time to go, a little privacy here please.
    A quick check of the shoreline is proof that
you could not have picked a better time for this fishing trip.
Scuds in olives and browns as big as your thumbnail are swimming in
clouds. Mayfly nymphs skitter to and fro, damsel nymphs swimming
snake-like towards the weed beds and clinging to the weeds, clouds
of them having already emerged are rising from the tall grass,
caddis pupa on the move and a lone Gomphus dragonfly nymph waiting
in ambush behind a submerged rock. No sign of emerging chironomids,
just scattered shucks of all sizes on the surface—that's okay, the
rest can't stay down forever.
    Pushing off from the shoreline, the water is
calm as glass as you head for the nearest drop-off dragging, the
leech just off the bottom. What was that??? A hit! Already?!
Raising the rod tip the line goes slack—probably bottom. Strip in
the line, check the fly, back in the water and off you go again.
Wham! Now THAT'S a hit! Rod tip up—too late. Strip the line in,
check the fly; back in the water and off you…there it is again!
Raise the rod tip, line is taut this time as a nice chrome 22
incher explodes out of the water—he lands with a less than elegant
splash, dives, takes a run for it, peeling off line so fast you're
afraid he'll smoke the old reel. Suddenly nothing. Is he gone? No!
He's heading straight toward you in leaps and bounds along the
surface! NOBODY can strip THAT fast! He dives, only to reappear
seconds later 4 feet from your nose. Seemingly suspended mid-air,
in slow motion you watch him spit the hook and roll his eyes at you
as he sinks into the depths leaving you looking like a drowned rat.
As you regain you composure you start to laugh, well THAT was
fun!
    The rest of the cruise is uneventful and upon
arriving at the chosen drop-off time is spent casting into the
shallows with absolutely no action. Your mind drifts as all the
worries and cares of everyday life flow from your body in pleasant
little waves. The sky is partially clouded, weather is warm and you
can't