Living with Alzheimer's (a husband/caretaker's observations)
My Sweetums & Me by Danny
Not all symptoms of Alzheimer's are the same. I'm constantly updating this with more things I remember. I thought I'd put this together and share it, in case you know someone that could benefit from it.
It is 2022 as I'm writing this. I remember it was 2006 when I was on my way home from work and called Joyce on her cell phone to let her know I was on my way home. When she answered she said she was at our investment brokers and couldn't remember how to get home. I told her to stay there, I'd come rescue her, and she could follow me home.
Shortly after this time we had gotten together with my sister and her husband for dinner out and then back to our house to play cards. I think we were playing Euchre or Spades when all of a sudden Joyce's mind slipped, She looked puzzled or confused as she gazed at her cards. She asked what game we were playing? I didn't realize it then, but these were just a couple of the little things I didn't recognize as the beginning of Alzheimer's.
There were also a couple incidents where she had backed over our rural route mailbox as she backed out of the garage and down the driveway.
I started noticing that she wasn't remembering simple things around the house, like where light switches were to turn on and off lights, or where the phones were, and the difference between the coffee maker and the micro-wave oven. She would sometimes confuse a phone for the TV remote and vise-versa. Trying to turn on the TV with the phone and trying to answer the phone with the TV remote. She catches herself doing these things and we just laugh about it.
I suggested she ask her doctor about this on her next visit. After the visit to the doctors, she came home and reported "this is normal memory loss for a woman her age." This diagnosis after a fifteen-minute office visit. I'm with her the other twenty-three- and three-quarter hours of the day and I said this wasn't normal!
Whenever we went for a ride or to the movies or even the grocery store, Joyce would say she was seeing all the same people, doing all the same things, in the same spots whenever we went out. She also said she had seen every television show and movie we watched or gone out to see. I do remember the last movie she wanted to see and didn't say she had seen before was "AMERICAN SNIPPER" the Chris Kyle story in 2014. Her insistence of seeing everything before was referred to, by me as her DeJa'Vu syndrome.
I found out early that it isn't good to argue with the mind of an Alzheimer's victim. You need to just let it go, be understanding and try not to raise your voice. I have troubles not with maintaining a calm voice, but my eyes seem to telegraph a different message to her. When I get upset or irritated, it shows in my eyes and she sees that. Yes, she may ask me the same question over and over but it's just a question and all you need do is answer as politely as you can and be understanding. I can't emphasize that enough. She might think she sees the same person out walking a dog in the same place every day or something along those lines. I don't try to tell her we've never seen that person before, anymore. I smile and nod to confirm her sighting and let it go. I read a book back maybe around 2005 called don't sweat the small stuff. I think it taught me a lot about not getting excited about things in general.
Joyce has always been a little bundle of energy, and this is so even in the stages of Alzheimer's. Unlike others in her situation, she can hardly sit down and relax. She always has to be doing something. She will not just sit-down and watch TV, like I've seen and heard of so many others behaving. She always has a project to work on. A lot of times these projects never seem to end or have a positive outcome.
For example, if her white gym shoes got dirty, she would paint them white, with house paint or spray paint. Once the paint dried, she was happy with the results. When she put the shoes on, the paint would crack and look terrible again and she would start the process all over again. Finally, between her children and myself, we threw the old, painted gym shoes away and the topic of using paint to make her shoes look like new again, went away She became obsessed with the use of bleach. She was spilling her food and drinks wherever she walked around the house and decided to sit and eat or drink. The carpets were a mess. She would use the bleach on the carpet instead of regular carpet cleaner. This would create white spots on the carpet. She did the same thing with her clothes that had stains on them. As she would do laundry, she would use the bleach as a spot remover. She would then put all the clothes in the same load together thus bleaching some of my clothing. Slowly but surely, I have taken over the duties of the laundry, and she doesn't realize it. A co-worker told me , her mother went thru the same thing with the bleach. Once that phase ended, a new one began. Joyce would gather tissues, toilet paper and paper towels and sit for long periods of time, tearing or trying to cut them all into smaller, even sized sheets to use for her watery eyes and blowing of her nose. Then she would stick the stack of tiny tissues in the back of her drawer or under her couch and forget they were there. Not able to find them, she would demand we go out and buy more. She would also complain about how dull the scissors were and could we buy new ones or sharpen the old ones? My friend's wife told me her older sister is doing the same thing with the tissues. I can't imagine what is happening in these minds that have these women doing simular things?
We play cards at home in the evenings and if we have to wait in a waiting room for something like a car repair, or doctor’s visit. Keeping a deck of cards in the vehicles has been a life saver. We play Kings on the Corners. It’s a simple game. We both enjoy it. It passes the time together and keeps her in one spot, most of the times. We tried to change it up for a little variety and played Gin but that was too much for Joyce to comprehend.
Before we got married Joyce asked me when I expected her to have my dinner ready, when I came home from work? I explained I had unusual hours and knowing when I'd be home was never known. I'd take care of fixing my dinner and if she wanted to join me, there would always be enough to share. She went on to say that in her job, she often times did luncheons with customers, and the need to eat dinner wasn't necessary. So, the deal was struck, she'd clean the house, do laundry and take care of the bills and I would cook, and take care of indoor and outdoor home improvement projects.
Then there were the PAST DUE notices we were getting in the mail. It turns out she wasn't paying our bills. She said she liked doing this, before we were married so I just let her do it! Once I saw this happening, I had to step in and take over the bill payments. Joyce was very rebellious, about this act. Insisting she was in complete control. She had control of the checkbook. I asked her to write me a check for the electric bill. After a couple hours and a huge fight between us, she ended up handing over the checkbook and at that point I became responsible for writing all the checks and paying all the bills. She never asked about the checkbook again and never asked about if the bills were paid or the checkbook balanced.
Another time I walked upstairs to see what she had been doing the past couple of hours. She explained that she was getting her daily pills sorted and put in those weekly pill containers. Upon closer examination I saw she hadn't but had been dosing herself daily by color and shape of the pills. Again, another fight ensued (verbal bickering), and I had to take control of her daily doses of her meds.
Joyce is easily distracted and confused. she gets mad at me for trying to keep her focused Example, going into the kitchen for something and forgetting what she was there for but being side-tracked by getting more food and water for the cat. Or opening several cans of pop, forgetting she already has some maybe at her couch or where we play cards or a combination of the two where she will get a pop, set it down on a counter where she stops to feed the cat and forgets it’s there or doesn’t see it when she stands back up and then gets another pop and has multiple cans open around the house. Thank God it's not cigarettes! She'll ask me if she can get me anything from the kitchen. She is very thoughtful and energy enough to run the stairs to get me whatever I desire, but.... I have to know what our inventory of food and drink supplies are and exactly, where they are located so I can tell her exactly where to go and what to look for. Aside from having the short memory issues she also has a very narrow view of vision. Even if something is slightly to the left or right from where she is looking, she doesn’t see it. She also seems to have selective hearing, much like a youngster tunes out what the parent is saying and only hears what they want to hear.
I have noticed recently that her long-term memory is fading more. Lifelong friends are being forgotten. We've been married thirty-four years. This is the longest period of anything so far in her life and sometimes she doesn't know who I am, where we live or that we are even married. Lately, this seems to be happening more often.
It all came to a head when one Saturday morning, the phone rang. I could see by the caller ID that it was one of Joyce's best friends, so I ignored it and let Joyce answer the phone, upstairs. I was in the basement updating my website when all of a sudden Joyce snuck up behind me and said, "a woman on the phone wants to talk with you." I took the phone from her and her friend on the other end of the line said, "there's something wrong with Joyce." She doesn't know who I am or who you are or that the two of them were firming up plans to do lunch one day that upcoming week. After hanging up the phone I got up to find Joyce. It turns out she had laid down on a couch on the other side of the wall from where I had been on the phone with the friend. She had laid down and when I went to her and asked if she was alright? She sat right up and said she was fine and had no memory of the incident or that her friend had even called that morning.
That did it! This was proof enough for me that this was no normal memory loss for a woman her age. Monday morning, I called the doctor's office as soon as they opened. I got her doctor on the phone and told her what had happened that weekend. The doctor immediately prescribed an appointment with a neurologist. We went to the hospital that afternoon. Within fifteen-minutes of seeing this specialist, he diagnosed her of having Alzheimer's, mid-stages. The neurologist did some tests with Joyce to determine she was in mid-stages of Alzheimer's. He had her remember three words, RED, TREE, CAR and then talking with her and coming back and asking her what the three words were? She was only able to remember one of the three. Then he gave her a piece of paper with several circles on it and wanted her to place the hands like on an analog clock to show a specific time, like 2:20 or 11:45.
So the early stages that were happening almost undetected by me had started years before. The doctor told her in no uncertain terms that her brain was dying and there was no cure, it would only get worse until death.
Soon after this diagnosis, Another of Joyce's friends, who had a husband with Alzheimer's suggested we go to a seminar, being given by an expert in the field, at a local community center. We attended the seminar. He told us that victims would forget how to walk, sit-down, dress and feed themselves and even go to the bathroom by themselves and would need professional care. At the very end of the talk, I went up to ask the expert about symptoms Joyce had been going through. Joyce was right there with me as I asked him about the different things she was doing and experiencing. He told me; he had never heard of such behavior! This left me with the feeling that I was on my own! The expert said the average life expectancy of an Alzheimer’s victim was 10 years and would see the victim in steady decline. Joyce has had this for 16 years and can still sort of take care of herself.
Shortly after the diagnosis of her Alzheimer's, she had another Doctor's visit and we talked about the Alzheimer's disease. I completely broke down and admitted that even though I am big and strong, I would defend and protect her from all outside dangers and threats but this.... this was something I could not fight... something inside her brain, and I had a very hard time dealing with this at first.
Joyce began straightening up drawers around the house. This caused me some distress and loss of temper at times when she would re-arrange the drawers and utensils I use in the kitchen. I do the cooking. When I would open a drawer to get something and that something wasn't there, it was no use to ask her (but I did anyway) because she didn't remember doing the re-arranging in the first place. I've learned since then. Now, when I hear her in the kitchen, ask her if she is messing in my drawers? If she is, I ask her to come down and not move my stuff around. It at least cuts down the amount of stuff she moves around on me.
Joyce has her own end table, complete with a drawer, where she keeps all the stuff, she thinks she has to have at her fingertips.
Now I have discovered there are at least two different Joyce personalities inside her brain. She gets up on her own every morning and turns on the coffee maker and opens a box of mini cinnamon rolls to have for her breakfast, while watching news and weather on the TV and "straightening " her end table drawer. She will spend hours doing this, until everything is just right. Then perhaps in the evening, she'll need something out of that drawer, only to open it up and declare, someone has been in it and has messed it all up! Now she will spend hours straightening it up the way "Nighttime Joyce" wants it to be and the whole process starts all over the next morning, when "Daytime Joyce" takes over again. I will say, Daytime Joyce is more of her normal self than Nighttime Joyce. Nighttime Joyce is afraid of the dark and forgets who I am or who's house we are in or even that we're married!
At this time in life Joyce was still driving. She was retired and only going out to visit friends to do lunch together. The day she backed over a condo complex mailbox cluster and didn't even know it, I had to step in and try to get her to give up her car. I knew this would be another fight. She had a doctor's appointment the next day. I ended up talking to the doctor before the appointment and explaining to her the fights we already had about stuff she was in control of, and this was going to be harder. If I could get the doctor to prescribe to her the surrendering of her car keys to me, I would take her everywhere she needed to go. The plan worked. Reluctantly, Joyce gave up her keys to the car.
As time goes on, I'm noticing that her speech is becoming a little slurred and she has a harder time formulating sentence's. She forgets what word to use to complete a thought. Some days she can hardly print a note to herself and other days she is fine writing in cursively. Some of this maybe due to the time of day and her different personalities. I'm not sure yet.
There have been times when Joyce says her heart is racing or her pulse is fast. I have taken her pulse, only to find it pretty normal. Other times we have put on her blood pressure cuff and found it to be pretty normal. We have even gone as far as transmitting data from her pacemaker to her doctor, only to have them not see anything to get alarmed about.
Sometimes it seems like Joyce is having a stroke. I can't ask her questions like who is the president or what year is it, because she doesn't remember those kinds of things at this stage of the disease anyway. I ask her to smile, stick out her tongue or raise her arms. To the best of my knowledge she hasn't had a stroke.
She suffers from what is called Sundowners syndrome. In the evening, just before sunset, she wants all doors locked, shades, drapes and curtains pulled shut and then says she is scared to death. I asked her on many occasions why she was scared? Most times she doesn't know. A few times she has said it was because she was thinking about her age and her brain dying and she doesn't want to leave me. Another time she said her parents used to tell her that if she didn't come in the house, as a child, the "BOOGIMAN" would get her. That seems to be the main reason behind the locking up and closing down of all the doors and windows in the evening, so I blame her parents for this bad memory.
.
Several years ago, she passed out while shopping with her youngest grandson and was taken to the hospital with a below normal heart rate. A pacemaker was suggested and installed. She was put on a very expensive blood thinner. Almost immediately, she lost her sense of taste and smell, and it hasn't recovered yet. Not able to taste the food, she has sort of lost interest in eating much at all and is losing weight. She has gone from one fifteen to eighty-two pounds. When she did eat it was usually McDonalds and fries. As we know the fries are always very salty. Joyce would have PANIC ATTACKS at different times of the day or night. I began associating the attacks with McDonalds but then it happened after a Thanksgiving dinner with turkey and another time after Christmas dinner with ham. It started to become clearer that it wasn't McDonalds, it was salt/sodium. Now, watching the salt intake, she hasn't had any PANIC ATTACKS. This is a good thing. The salt is either messing with her meds or maybe the brain. I don't know which one.
Occasionally, Joyce would like to have some wine or maybe a Margaretta or both during the course of a day. This was messing with all the meds she takes but most of all the blood thinner. The doctor said she could have one small glass of wine, the size of one of the little individual wine bottles you see in the store. Even with Alzheimer's she seems to remember that she is entitled to have one glass of wine, a night, and she always reminds me of that. I don't know how she only seems to remember that.
I count myself or us as lucky because she still can get herself out of bed and dressed. She comes down and turns on the coffee maker to brew a single cup of coffee and gets her cinnamon rolls to have for her breakfast and then sits in front of the TV and watches NEWs & Weather while messing with, and straightening her drawer, in the end table, next to the couch. She is also able to go to the bathroom on her own when she needs to. She hasn’t taken a shower or bath for several years but does do something like a sponge bath to herself. I take care of washing her hair in the kitchen sink but that is usually met with a lot of push back or maybe she says not right now, maybe later…
Over the years her doctors have prescribed new drugs and taken her off some of the older drugs. We have made the adjustments and continue on. A couple of the drugs she is prescribed are to be used as needed. One is Bentil for IBS, and the other is Lomotil for diarrhea. Joyce was having the occasional incontinence issues and I began a regiment of Lomotil doses every night as part of her nightly meds. This seems to be working for the past eight months and I told her doctor of this, and they made notes in her medical history of medications. The practice still continues with the same success today.
Routine seems to be very important in the day in the life of an Alzheimer's victim. I haven't retired yet, but I am lucky that I am doing the kind of work that is flexible. I go in at 3:00AM, work for work for six hours and come home, usually by 10:00 AM. Joyce normally gets up around 9:00 and does her morning routine and within an hour or so, I'm pulling into the garage and I'm home. This works partly because I'm dealing with Daytime Joyce, who is more independent and not scared to be alone in the house. She does have her cat to keep her company and the cat is very attentive to her when I'm not there.
There are times when she forgets who I am or my name. She may not remember what state we live in or near what city, but other times she will rattle off our mailing address and phone number, along with her full (married) name. Sometimes she forgets she has children of her own and grandchildren and forgets their names but when caller ID shows their name on the TV, she snaps into an almost rehearsed script and begins her regular greeting to them.
Joyce has always been a "Social Butterfly" and still is today. She will chat with the best of them until the conversation becomes too confusing to her and she will simply walk away. Minutes after talking with these people she will forget even knowing them much less remembering what they were talking about. She loves and admires babies and younger children that like to play but moments after the game is finished or maybe they have to go, she forgets who they were.
Joyce also loves animals of all kinds. We have tons of neighbors that are out walking dogs. She will ask if the dogs are friendly and if they mind if she petted them? Some of our neighborhood cats will approach her and let her love on them as well. Petting Zoos, 4- H displays where she can talk with the animals and pet them give her a calmness. We visit the horses at a local stable and take carrots for them to enjoy as treats. Even visiting Farm supply retailers that have baby chicks, ducklings and turkeys are a hit with her to pet and talk to. Once, at Landen Deerfield Park, a local Naturalist brought a rather large Black Snake for display. She allowed Joyce to hold it. I was nervous she would drop the snake and it would slither off into the woods. That didn't happen and Joyce held it and got others to hold it and pet it while in her care, before giving it back to the Naturalist for safe keeping.
Joyce loves to get out and just drive around. Lately, the minute we turn off our street, she doesn't seem to know where we are, even though we have lived here for thirty-two years. We go up to the lake nearly every day. She doesn't know it's Landen Lake. And because the wind creates what looks like current, to her, she thinks it's a river. Her biggest concern seems to be what school district the kids in the different Landen neighborhoods are in. She doesn't talk so much about seeing the same people in the same places all the time. Maybe that phase is slipping away. Something else that seems to be changing is that when the sun goes down, she isn't scared like she used to be but still makes sure the cat is in, the doors locked, windows closed, and shades pulled shut. There has been several nights this week she simply closed the shades and resumed card playing with no mention of being scared or even sad. This is happening more and more, that she doesn't say she's scared. To me, this is a good thing.
Just in these last couple weeks of April, she seems to be losing more of her ability to read correctly. One example was when we were driving around and passing the Regal Cinema and she was sounding out the words on the sign and asked what a Regal Seminar was ? I told it was pronounced Cinema...she said, oh yeah, that's right and laughed off her gaff. This past week I woke up one night to go to the bathroom. After getting back in bed and laying there a few minutes, she asked me if I was still awake. I replied I was. She said she couldn't remember her name. I told her it was Joyce. She said, Oh, okay, and went back to sleep. Now I don't know if she was actually awake or if she was dreaming. We'll never know now. I have also noticed when we drive down a certain street in Landen, who's houses are on the lake, she always remarks how big the houses are and wonders how much they would sell for. (there are only six or seven houses on that side of the street) When we get to the end of the street and turn around, it's like she has no idea we just passed these same houses and she comments again on their size and asks, how much they'd sell for today?
I tell her I love her, several times a day and right before going to bed. I think this is important to re-assure her. Letting her know, we are a team and that we're doing the best we can and that I'm here for her and she for me. This brings a smile to her face, and she thanks me for staying with her.
There are times when Joyce will be sad and cries because she knows what is happening to her and what the final outcome will be. She will say that she knows she's driving me crazy. She goes on to say she doesn't want to ruin my life and I should put her in a home. I don't even want to think about this, but it might be a reality (I'm just not ready to face it yet). I try to assure her that we are doing the best we can together, making the best of each day and enjoying each other and staying together as long as we can. I can't imagine leaving her alone in a room at some facility, facing the fears she has each evening, all by herself. She would be with strangers, and I wouldn't be there to hold her and assure her that I'm there and will protect her, always. I hate this thought. It's unimaginable to me!
Shortly after finishing a McDonald's Fish Sandwich, Joyce had one of her "Terror Attacks" at about 12:30, May 29th 2022. This is the worst I've ever seen. She didn't know who I was, denied being married to me, demanded proof of the lie I was telling her about being married to me. Said she was afraid of me because she didn't know me. Didn't know where she was (state, city or neighborhood). This went on for six hours. I'm afraid if this behavior continues, I'll have to look into a care facility. I had been telling her the whole time that the doctors suggest she lay down and rest for a little while and when she gets up she will feel better. She resisted most of the day until the end. She finally laid down and when she got up said she felt pretty normal and had no memory of the incidents that occurred that day. I can't believe she was afraid of me and it tore my heart out to think she didn't believe we were married.
It has been our discovery that the oils used to make the French Fries has an effect on the brain. This and the salt. We hadn't had any trouble with just having the Fish Sandwich until yesterday. No more anything from McDonald's, and I hope we never have an episode like this one again.
This is a work in progress as life goes on. I hope this might help others, cope and understand, what a loved one, they know is suffering with this disease.
On Friday, April 28th 2023. Like any other day, we got out of bed, she made her coffee and I got her pills and cinnamonm rolls out for her. She drank her coffee and ate the mini rolls while I fixed a bowl of cereal for myself. We watched morning News & Weather and rested until she was ready to get out and see the day and go to the pool at the Municipal Center. She sat up on the couch and said she was ready to go but she wanted to use the bathroom before going. She got up off the couch and looked a little wobbly to me. I asked if she wanted me to help her downstairs to the bathroom. She said yes and I got up and took her hand and walked her down the steps, so she could go. I waited for her. When she finished, I helped her back up the steps. Once there, I thought we were going to get in the car and go, but she said she was dizzy from the walk up the steps and wanted to rest for a minute. With that, she laydown on her couch and pulled the afgan over her to keep warm and put her head down on the pillows and rested.
We would alwaays get SPAM RISK phone calls everyday. When the phone would rind she would normally raise her head..look around, see me, smile and wave her fingers at me. This day she didn't. The phone would ring and she didn't move. The phone rang several more times that day and she didn't move. I thought to myself...she has died. I was to afraid to walk over and check her. I waited until her son called, every evening. When he called this day, I let the phone ring several times and called to her that it was her son, Ben. She didn't move.
I told him she was laying down and hadn't moved all afternoon. He asked if she had died and I told him I hadn't checked her. I walked over and touched her hand. It was ice cold. I took her pulse and there wasn't any. We both began crying on the phone to each other but we finally hung up. I called 9 1 1 and the Police and EMT's responded very quickly. They made arangements for a local funeral home to pick her up and take her to the UC Medical Center. She wanted her body donated to Science. They came, took her body away and that was the last I saw of my Sweet Girl. She was the Love of my Life forever.
It has only been a few days since her passing but I miss her a lot and find myself looking for her and listening , to see what she is up to....but she isn't here. It'll just be me and the cat now.
Lived and written by J.Scott Keniston
It is 2022 as I'm writing this. I remember it was 2006 when I was on my way home from work and called Joyce on her cell phone to let her know I was on my way home. When she answered she said she was at our investment brokers and couldn't remember how to get home. I told her to stay there, I'd come rescue her, and she could follow me home.
Shortly after this time we had gotten together with my sister and her husband for dinner out and then back to our house to play cards. I think we were playing Euchre or Spades when all of a sudden Joyce's mind slipped, She looked puzzled or confused as she gazed at her cards. She asked what game we were playing? I didn't realize it then, but these were just a couple of the little things I didn't recognize as the beginning of Alzheimer's.
There were also a couple incidents where she had backed over our rural route mailbox as she backed out of the garage and down the driveway.
I started noticing that she wasn't remembering simple things around the house, like where light switches were to turn on and off lights, or where the phones were, and the difference between the coffee maker and the micro-wave oven. She would sometimes confuse a phone for the TV remote and vise-versa. Trying to turn on the TV with the phone and trying to answer the phone with the TV remote. She catches herself doing these things and we just laugh about it.
I suggested she ask her doctor about this on her next visit. After the visit to the doctors, she came home and reported "this is normal memory loss for a woman her age." This diagnosis after a fifteen-minute office visit. I'm with her the other twenty-three- and three-quarter hours of the day and I said this wasn't normal!
Whenever we went for a ride or to the movies or even the grocery store, Joyce would say she was seeing all the same people, doing all the same things, in the same spots whenever we went out. She also said she had seen every television show and movie we watched or gone out to see. I do remember the last movie she wanted to see and didn't say she had seen before was "AMERICAN SNIPPER" the Chris Kyle story in 2014. Her insistence of seeing everything before was referred to, by me as her DeJa'Vu syndrome.
I found out early that it isn't good to argue with the mind of an Alzheimer's victim. You need to just let it go, be understanding and try not to raise your voice. I have troubles not with maintaining a calm voice, but my eyes seem to telegraph a different message to her. When I get upset or irritated, it shows in my eyes and she sees that. Yes, she may ask me the same question over and over but it's just a question and all you need do is answer as politely as you can and be understanding. I can't emphasize that enough. She might think she sees the same person out walking a dog in the same place every day or something along those lines. I don't try to tell her we've never seen that person before, anymore. I smile and nod to confirm her sighting and let it go. I read a book back maybe around 2005 called don't sweat the small stuff. I think it taught me a lot about not getting excited about things in general.
Joyce has always been a little bundle of energy, and this is so even in the stages of Alzheimer's. Unlike others in her situation, she can hardly sit down and relax. She always has to be doing something. She will not just sit-down and watch TV, like I've seen and heard of so many others behaving. She always has a project to work on. A lot of times these projects never seem to end or have a positive outcome.
For example, if her white gym shoes got dirty, she would paint them white, with house paint or spray paint. Once the paint dried, she was happy with the results. When she put the shoes on, the paint would crack and look terrible again and she would start the process all over again. Finally, between her children and myself, we threw the old, painted gym shoes away and the topic of using paint to make her shoes look like new again, went away She became obsessed with the use of bleach. She was spilling her food and drinks wherever she walked around the house and decided to sit and eat or drink. The carpets were a mess. She would use the bleach on the carpet instead of regular carpet cleaner. This would create white spots on the carpet. She did the same thing with her clothes that had stains on them. As she would do laundry, she would use the bleach as a spot remover. She would then put all the clothes in the same load together thus bleaching some of my clothing. Slowly but surely, I have taken over the duties of the laundry, and she doesn't realize it. A co-worker told me , her mother went thru the same thing with the bleach. Once that phase ended, a new one began. Joyce would gather tissues, toilet paper and paper towels and sit for long periods of time, tearing or trying to cut them all into smaller, even sized sheets to use for her watery eyes and blowing of her nose. Then she would stick the stack of tiny tissues in the back of her drawer or under her couch and forget they were there. Not able to find them, she would demand we go out and buy more. She would also complain about how dull the scissors were and could we buy new ones or sharpen the old ones? My friend's wife told me her older sister is doing the same thing with the tissues. I can't imagine what is happening in these minds that have these women doing simular things?
We play cards at home in the evenings and if we have to wait in a waiting room for something like a car repair, or doctor’s visit. Keeping a deck of cards in the vehicles has been a life saver. We play Kings on the Corners. It’s a simple game. We both enjoy it. It passes the time together and keeps her in one spot, most of the times. We tried to change it up for a little variety and played Gin but that was too much for Joyce to comprehend.
Before we got married Joyce asked me when I expected her to have my dinner ready, when I came home from work? I explained I had unusual hours and knowing when I'd be home was never known. I'd take care of fixing my dinner and if she wanted to join me, there would always be enough to share. She went on to say that in her job, she often times did luncheons with customers, and the need to eat dinner wasn't necessary. So, the deal was struck, she'd clean the house, do laundry and take care of the bills and I would cook, and take care of indoor and outdoor home improvement projects.
Then there were the PAST DUE notices we were getting in the mail. It turns out she wasn't paying our bills. She said she liked doing this, before we were married so I just let her do it! Once I saw this happening, I had to step in and take over the bill payments. Joyce was very rebellious, about this act. Insisting she was in complete control. She had control of the checkbook. I asked her to write me a check for the electric bill. After a couple hours and a huge fight between us, she ended up handing over the checkbook and at that point I became responsible for writing all the checks and paying all the bills. She never asked about the checkbook again and never asked about if the bills were paid or the checkbook balanced.
Another time I walked upstairs to see what she had been doing the past couple of hours. She explained that she was getting her daily pills sorted and put in those weekly pill containers. Upon closer examination I saw she hadn't but had been dosing herself daily by color and shape of the pills. Again, another fight ensued (verbal bickering), and I had to take control of her daily doses of her meds.
Joyce is easily distracted and confused. she gets mad at me for trying to keep her focused Example, going into the kitchen for something and forgetting what she was there for but being side-tracked by getting more food and water for the cat. Or opening several cans of pop, forgetting she already has some maybe at her couch or where we play cards or a combination of the two where she will get a pop, set it down on a counter where she stops to feed the cat and forgets it’s there or doesn’t see it when she stands back up and then gets another pop and has multiple cans open around the house. Thank God it's not cigarettes! She'll ask me if she can get me anything from the kitchen. She is very thoughtful and energy enough to run the stairs to get me whatever I desire, but.... I have to know what our inventory of food and drink supplies are and exactly, where they are located so I can tell her exactly where to go and what to look for. Aside from having the short memory issues she also has a very narrow view of vision. Even if something is slightly to the left or right from where she is looking, she doesn’t see it. She also seems to have selective hearing, much like a youngster tunes out what the parent is saying and only hears what they want to hear.
I have noticed recently that her long-term memory is fading more. Lifelong friends are being forgotten. We've been married thirty-four years. This is the longest period of anything so far in her life and sometimes she doesn't know who I am, where we live or that we are even married. Lately, this seems to be happening more often.
It all came to a head when one Saturday morning, the phone rang. I could see by the caller ID that it was one of Joyce's best friends, so I ignored it and let Joyce answer the phone, upstairs. I was in the basement updating my website when all of a sudden Joyce snuck up behind me and said, "a woman on the phone wants to talk with you." I took the phone from her and her friend on the other end of the line said, "there's something wrong with Joyce." She doesn't know who I am or who you are or that the two of them were firming up plans to do lunch one day that upcoming week. After hanging up the phone I got up to find Joyce. It turns out she had laid down on a couch on the other side of the wall from where I had been on the phone with the friend. She had laid down and when I went to her and asked if she was alright? She sat right up and said she was fine and had no memory of the incident or that her friend had even called that morning.
That did it! This was proof enough for me that this was no normal memory loss for a woman her age. Monday morning, I called the doctor's office as soon as they opened. I got her doctor on the phone and told her what had happened that weekend. The doctor immediately prescribed an appointment with a neurologist. We went to the hospital that afternoon. Within fifteen-minutes of seeing this specialist, he diagnosed her of having Alzheimer's, mid-stages. The neurologist did some tests with Joyce to determine she was in mid-stages of Alzheimer's. He had her remember three words, RED, TREE, CAR and then talking with her and coming back and asking her what the three words were? She was only able to remember one of the three. Then he gave her a piece of paper with several circles on it and wanted her to place the hands like on an analog clock to show a specific time, like 2:20 or 11:45.
So the early stages that were happening almost undetected by me had started years before. The doctor told her in no uncertain terms that her brain was dying and there was no cure, it would only get worse until death.
Soon after this diagnosis, Another of Joyce's friends, who had a husband with Alzheimer's suggested we go to a seminar, being given by an expert in the field, at a local community center. We attended the seminar. He told us that victims would forget how to walk, sit-down, dress and feed themselves and even go to the bathroom by themselves and would need professional care. At the very end of the talk, I went up to ask the expert about symptoms Joyce had been going through. Joyce was right there with me as I asked him about the different things she was doing and experiencing. He told me; he had never heard of such behavior! This left me with the feeling that I was on my own! The expert said the average life expectancy of an Alzheimer’s victim was 10 years and would see the victim in steady decline. Joyce has had this for 16 years and can still sort of take care of herself.
Shortly after the diagnosis of her Alzheimer's, she had another Doctor's visit and we talked about the Alzheimer's disease. I completely broke down and admitted that even though I am big and strong, I would defend and protect her from all outside dangers and threats but this.... this was something I could not fight... something inside her brain, and I had a very hard time dealing with this at first.
Joyce began straightening up drawers around the house. This caused me some distress and loss of temper at times when she would re-arrange the drawers and utensils I use in the kitchen. I do the cooking. When I would open a drawer to get something and that something wasn't there, it was no use to ask her (but I did anyway) because she didn't remember doing the re-arranging in the first place. I've learned since then. Now, when I hear her in the kitchen, ask her if she is messing in my drawers? If she is, I ask her to come down and not move my stuff around. It at least cuts down the amount of stuff she moves around on me.
Joyce has her own end table, complete with a drawer, where she keeps all the stuff, she thinks she has to have at her fingertips.
Now I have discovered there are at least two different Joyce personalities inside her brain. She gets up on her own every morning and turns on the coffee maker and opens a box of mini cinnamon rolls to have for her breakfast, while watching news and weather on the TV and "straightening " her end table drawer. She will spend hours doing this, until everything is just right. Then perhaps in the evening, she'll need something out of that drawer, only to open it up and declare, someone has been in it and has messed it all up! Now she will spend hours straightening it up the way "Nighttime Joyce" wants it to be and the whole process starts all over the next morning, when "Daytime Joyce" takes over again. I will say, Daytime Joyce is more of her normal self than Nighttime Joyce. Nighttime Joyce is afraid of the dark and forgets who I am or who's house we are in or even that we're married!
At this time in life Joyce was still driving. She was retired and only going out to visit friends to do lunch together. The day she backed over a condo complex mailbox cluster and didn't even know it, I had to step in and try to get her to give up her car. I knew this would be another fight. She had a doctor's appointment the next day. I ended up talking to the doctor before the appointment and explaining to her the fights we already had about stuff she was in control of, and this was going to be harder. If I could get the doctor to prescribe to her the surrendering of her car keys to me, I would take her everywhere she needed to go. The plan worked. Reluctantly, Joyce gave up her keys to the car.
As time goes on, I'm noticing that her speech is becoming a little slurred and she has a harder time formulating sentence's. She forgets what word to use to complete a thought. Some days she can hardly print a note to herself and other days she is fine writing in cursively. Some of this maybe due to the time of day and her different personalities. I'm not sure yet.
There have been times when Joyce says her heart is racing or her pulse is fast. I have taken her pulse, only to find it pretty normal. Other times we have put on her blood pressure cuff and found it to be pretty normal. We have even gone as far as transmitting data from her pacemaker to her doctor, only to have them not see anything to get alarmed about.
Sometimes it seems like Joyce is having a stroke. I can't ask her questions like who is the president or what year is it, because she doesn't remember those kinds of things at this stage of the disease anyway. I ask her to smile, stick out her tongue or raise her arms. To the best of my knowledge she hasn't had a stroke.
She suffers from what is called Sundowners syndrome. In the evening, just before sunset, she wants all doors locked, shades, drapes and curtains pulled shut and then says she is scared to death. I asked her on many occasions why she was scared? Most times she doesn't know. A few times she has said it was because she was thinking about her age and her brain dying and she doesn't want to leave me. Another time she said her parents used to tell her that if she didn't come in the house, as a child, the "BOOGIMAN" would get her. That seems to be the main reason behind the locking up and closing down of all the doors and windows in the evening, so I blame her parents for this bad memory.
.
Several years ago, she passed out while shopping with her youngest grandson and was taken to the hospital with a below normal heart rate. A pacemaker was suggested and installed. She was put on a very expensive blood thinner. Almost immediately, she lost her sense of taste and smell, and it hasn't recovered yet. Not able to taste the food, she has sort of lost interest in eating much at all and is losing weight. She has gone from one fifteen to eighty-two pounds. When she did eat it was usually McDonalds and fries. As we know the fries are always very salty. Joyce would have PANIC ATTACKS at different times of the day or night. I began associating the attacks with McDonalds but then it happened after a Thanksgiving dinner with turkey and another time after Christmas dinner with ham. It started to become clearer that it wasn't McDonalds, it was salt/sodium. Now, watching the salt intake, she hasn't had any PANIC ATTACKS. This is a good thing. The salt is either messing with her meds or maybe the brain. I don't know which one.
Occasionally, Joyce would like to have some wine or maybe a Margaretta or both during the course of a day. This was messing with all the meds she takes but most of all the blood thinner. The doctor said she could have one small glass of wine, the size of one of the little individual wine bottles you see in the store. Even with Alzheimer's she seems to remember that she is entitled to have one glass of wine, a night, and she always reminds me of that. I don't know how she only seems to remember that.
I count myself or us as lucky because she still can get herself out of bed and dressed. She comes down and turns on the coffee maker to brew a single cup of coffee and gets her cinnamon rolls to have for her breakfast and then sits in front of the TV and watches NEWs & Weather while messing with, and straightening her drawer, in the end table, next to the couch. She is also able to go to the bathroom on her own when she needs to. She hasn’t taken a shower or bath for several years but does do something like a sponge bath to herself. I take care of washing her hair in the kitchen sink but that is usually met with a lot of push back or maybe she says not right now, maybe later…
Over the years her doctors have prescribed new drugs and taken her off some of the older drugs. We have made the adjustments and continue on. A couple of the drugs she is prescribed are to be used as needed. One is Bentil for IBS, and the other is Lomotil for diarrhea. Joyce was having the occasional incontinence issues and I began a regiment of Lomotil doses every night as part of her nightly meds. This seems to be working for the past eight months and I told her doctor of this, and they made notes in her medical history of medications. The practice still continues with the same success today.
Routine seems to be very important in the day in the life of an Alzheimer's victim. I haven't retired yet, but I am lucky that I am doing the kind of work that is flexible. I go in at 3:00AM, work for work for six hours and come home, usually by 10:00 AM. Joyce normally gets up around 9:00 and does her morning routine and within an hour or so, I'm pulling into the garage and I'm home. This works partly because I'm dealing with Daytime Joyce, who is more independent and not scared to be alone in the house. She does have her cat to keep her company and the cat is very attentive to her when I'm not there.
There are times when she forgets who I am or my name. She may not remember what state we live in or near what city, but other times she will rattle off our mailing address and phone number, along with her full (married) name. Sometimes she forgets she has children of her own and grandchildren and forgets their names but when caller ID shows their name on the TV, she snaps into an almost rehearsed script and begins her regular greeting to them.
Joyce has always been a "Social Butterfly" and still is today. She will chat with the best of them until the conversation becomes too confusing to her and she will simply walk away. Minutes after talking with these people she will forget even knowing them much less remembering what they were talking about. She loves and admires babies and younger children that like to play but moments after the game is finished or maybe they have to go, she forgets who they were.
Joyce also loves animals of all kinds. We have tons of neighbors that are out walking dogs. She will ask if the dogs are friendly and if they mind if she petted them? Some of our neighborhood cats will approach her and let her love on them as well. Petting Zoos, 4- H displays where she can talk with the animals and pet them give her a calmness. We visit the horses at a local stable and take carrots for them to enjoy as treats. Even visiting Farm supply retailers that have baby chicks, ducklings and turkeys are a hit with her to pet and talk to. Once, at Landen Deerfield Park, a local Naturalist brought a rather large Black Snake for display. She allowed Joyce to hold it. I was nervous she would drop the snake and it would slither off into the woods. That didn't happen and Joyce held it and got others to hold it and pet it while in her care, before giving it back to the Naturalist for safe keeping.
Joyce loves to get out and just drive around. Lately, the minute we turn off our street, she doesn't seem to know where we are, even though we have lived here for thirty-two years. We go up to the lake nearly every day. She doesn't know it's Landen Lake. And because the wind creates what looks like current, to her, she thinks it's a river. Her biggest concern seems to be what school district the kids in the different Landen neighborhoods are in. She doesn't talk so much about seeing the same people in the same places all the time. Maybe that phase is slipping away. Something else that seems to be changing is that when the sun goes down, she isn't scared like she used to be but still makes sure the cat is in, the doors locked, windows closed, and shades pulled shut. There has been several nights this week she simply closed the shades and resumed card playing with no mention of being scared or even sad. This is happening more and more, that she doesn't say she's scared. To me, this is a good thing.
Just in these last couple weeks of April, she seems to be losing more of her ability to read correctly. One example was when we were driving around and passing the Regal Cinema and she was sounding out the words on the sign and asked what a Regal Seminar was ? I told it was pronounced Cinema...she said, oh yeah, that's right and laughed off her gaff. This past week I woke up one night to go to the bathroom. After getting back in bed and laying there a few minutes, she asked me if I was still awake. I replied I was. She said she couldn't remember her name. I told her it was Joyce. She said, Oh, okay, and went back to sleep. Now I don't know if she was actually awake or if she was dreaming. We'll never know now. I have also noticed when we drive down a certain street in Landen, who's houses are on the lake, she always remarks how big the houses are and wonders how much they would sell for. (there are only six or seven houses on that side of the street) When we get to the end of the street and turn around, it's like she has no idea we just passed these same houses and she comments again on their size and asks, how much they'd sell for today?
I tell her I love her, several times a day and right before going to bed. I think this is important to re-assure her. Letting her know, we are a team and that we're doing the best we can and that I'm here for her and she for me. This brings a smile to her face, and she thanks me for staying with her.
There are times when Joyce will be sad and cries because she knows what is happening to her and what the final outcome will be. She will say that she knows she's driving me crazy. She goes on to say she doesn't want to ruin my life and I should put her in a home. I don't even want to think about this, but it might be a reality (I'm just not ready to face it yet). I try to assure her that we are doing the best we can together, making the best of each day and enjoying each other and staying together as long as we can. I can't imagine leaving her alone in a room at some facility, facing the fears she has each evening, all by herself. She would be with strangers, and I wouldn't be there to hold her and assure her that I'm there and will protect her, always. I hate this thought. It's unimaginable to me!
Shortly after finishing a McDonald's Fish Sandwich, Joyce had one of her "Terror Attacks" at about 12:30, May 29th 2022. This is the worst I've ever seen. She didn't know who I was, denied being married to me, demanded proof of the lie I was telling her about being married to me. Said she was afraid of me because she didn't know me. Didn't know where she was (state, city or neighborhood). This went on for six hours. I'm afraid if this behavior continues, I'll have to look into a care facility. I had been telling her the whole time that the doctors suggest she lay down and rest for a little while and when she gets up she will feel better. She resisted most of the day until the end. She finally laid down and when she got up said she felt pretty normal and had no memory of the incidents that occurred that day. I can't believe she was afraid of me and it tore my heart out to think she didn't believe we were married.
It has been our discovery that the oils used to make the French Fries has an effect on the brain. This and the salt. We hadn't had any trouble with just having the Fish Sandwich until yesterday. No more anything from McDonald's, and I hope we never have an episode like this one again.
This is a work in progress as life goes on. I hope this might help others, cope and understand, what a loved one, they know is suffering with this disease.
On Friday, April 28th 2023. Like any other day, we got out of bed, she made her coffee and I got her pills and cinnamonm rolls out for her. She drank her coffee and ate the mini rolls while I fixed a bowl of cereal for myself. We watched morning News & Weather and rested until she was ready to get out and see the day and go to the pool at the Municipal Center. She sat up on the couch and said she was ready to go but she wanted to use the bathroom before going. She got up off the couch and looked a little wobbly to me. I asked if she wanted me to help her downstairs to the bathroom. She said yes and I got up and took her hand and walked her down the steps, so she could go. I waited for her. When she finished, I helped her back up the steps. Once there, I thought we were going to get in the car and go, but she said she was dizzy from the walk up the steps and wanted to rest for a minute. With that, she laydown on her couch and pulled the afgan over her to keep warm and put her head down on the pillows and rested.
We would alwaays get SPAM RISK phone calls everyday. When the phone would rind she would normally raise her head..look around, see me, smile and wave her fingers at me. This day she didn't. The phone would ring and she didn't move. The phone rang several more times that day and she didn't move. I thought to myself...she has died. I was to afraid to walk over and check her. I waited until her son called, every evening. When he called this day, I let the phone ring several times and called to her that it was her son, Ben. She didn't move.
I told him she was laying down and hadn't moved all afternoon. He asked if she had died and I told him I hadn't checked her. I walked over and touched her hand. It was ice cold. I took her pulse and there wasn't any. We both began crying on the phone to each other but we finally hung up. I called 9 1 1 and the Police and EMT's responded very quickly. They made arangements for a local funeral home to pick her up and take her to the UC Medical Center. She wanted her body donated to Science. They came, took her body away and that was the last I saw of my Sweet Girl. She was the Love of my Life forever.
It has only been a few days since her passing but I miss her a lot and find myself looking for her and listening , to see what she is up to....but she isn't here. It'll just be me and the cat now.
Lived and written by J.Scott Keniston
All these stories are true experiences of mine and friends of mine.
Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty !
Mountain Lion in a tree looking down
Far be it from me to try and start a panic...God knows I LOVE this stuff ! But way back in the day (the 1970s) I was dating an old girlfriend and her parents had a nice piece of property down in Harrison, Ohio. Complete with meadows, woods, a fishing pond, small barn and their house all on their land. A pretty sweet set up !
One day her older brother was looking out his bedroom window and noticed something at the edge of the tree line. Grabbing a pair of binoculars he checked it out more closely before it disappeared into the woods. No one else was home at the time so he had no witnesses but he was sure about what he saw.
Her brother was very outdoorsy...he grabbed a 30-30 rifle and went down to the location where he had seen the lion. As luck would have it the ground was still moist from a previous rain and the Mountain Lion left one good track in a low depression, in the mud.
He went up to his Dad's workshop and found a bag of plaster and mixed some up and made a plaster cast of the paw print. Then when his parents got home he had evidence of his sighting.
When Dad heard the story and saw the casting he called the ODNR and they sent a officer out to investigate and validate the plaster cast of the paw print.
Well, they lost the trail in the woods but the officer did confirm it was a Mountain Lion paw print he had cast. He also said there had been sightings down at Shawnee Lookout, in Sharonville and around Colerain Township. Now, just the other day a Mountain Lion was sighted a few miles away from Landen. Just down by the Loveland Middle School near Pheasant Hills community.
So this isn't something new to me... I just haven't seen one myself but I'd like to !
Written and witnessed by J.Scott Keniston
One day her older brother was looking out his bedroom window and noticed something at the edge of the tree line. Grabbing a pair of binoculars he checked it out more closely before it disappeared into the woods. No one else was home at the time so he had no witnesses but he was sure about what he saw.
Her brother was very outdoorsy...he grabbed a 30-30 rifle and went down to the location where he had seen the lion. As luck would have it the ground was still moist from a previous rain and the Mountain Lion left one good track in a low depression, in the mud.
He went up to his Dad's workshop and found a bag of plaster and mixed some up and made a plaster cast of the paw print. Then when his parents got home he had evidence of his sighting.
When Dad heard the story and saw the casting he called the ODNR and they sent a officer out to investigate and validate the plaster cast of the paw print.
Well, they lost the trail in the woods but the officer did confirm it was a Mountain Lion paw print he had cast. He also said there had been sightings down at Shawnee Lookout, in Sharonville and around Colerain Township. Now, just the other day a Mountain Lion was sighted a few miles away from Landen. Just down by the Loveland Middle School near Pheasant Hills community.
So this isn't something new to me... I just haven't seen one myself but I'd like to !
Written and witnessed by J.Scott Keniston
Stefs' Wish
Stef & me (a long time ago) with her cane pole & bluegill
One Saturday afternoon, about a month before her third birthday, my neighbor stopped me and said. "You'll never believe what Stef wants for her birthday." "What?" I asked. "She wants to learn how to fish." He went on to say that he had never been around anyone that fished and didn't know how. He asked me if I ever fished and could I help him out. I told him that I loved to fish, to the point that Joyce often thought of me as obsessed with the hobby. I told him not to worry, that I would take care of all her fishing needs for her birthday.
The next weekend Joyce and I found ourselves at the local discount store. I wandered over to the sporting goods section and started looking over the cane poles and cheap assortments of multi-colored flies that you find in a dial up type of round container. "What are you going to do with those." Joyce asked. "This is for Stefs' birthday," I answered. A smile crossed her face as she exclaimed "you’re awfully good to her."
The day of Stef's Birthday finally came. Joyce and I presented her with the cane pole and box of flies. Stef's eyes lit up as she unwrapped our gift and the rest of the presents and celebration were put on hold. She asked if we would take her fishing right away? So with pole, flies, a bag of bread, and a camera to record the moment, the five of us went over to the lake.
I had never dealt with a three year old before, in regards to fishing. When we got to the lake and parked the car, we saw a number of other children with parents in tow, fishing from the dock that we were heading towards. It was a local Cub Scout Pack working on their fishing merit badge. As we stepped on to the dock, I asked if anyone was having any luck ? The reply was negative and Stef's parents had a slightly worried look on their face after hearing that no one was catching fish.
I sat down on the dock and began to tell Stef how fish relate to cover and shade to protect their eyes from bright sun, since they didn’t have eye lids to close or squint. I went on to say that since all the other kids were casting their lines out, away from the dock, in open water, and not having any luck, I would bet that all the fish were hiding under the dock waiting for her to catch them. Amazingly, she understood. I pinched a small piece of bread around the hook of the fly and she dipped it into the water. She saw the bluegills come out from under the dock to look at her offering and got very excited just seeing them. When the first one grabbed the fly and ran, she squealed with excitement. She lifted the fish out of the water and let me take it off the now barbless hook. Stef wanted to release the fish. She cradled it in her hands and bent over the side of the dock and bid the scrappy little fighter farewell.
While all this was going on the other children on the dock made sure that their parents were aware that “she” had just caught a fish and they too wanted to catch fish. I pinched another bit of bread on the hook and Stef lowered the offering into water. "I have another one," she exclaimed. We repeated this process a couple of dozen times within about a thirty minute time span. The other children on the dock were getting upset and their parents were getting a little annoyed. Finally the first brave soul swallowed his pride and walked over to where we were fishing and said," you sure are having good luck fishing today." "What’s your secret?" We showed him what we were doing and Stef offered them a fly to use and a slice of bread. While I tied the fly on his kids line, Stef began to tell them where the fish could be found. I looked up at the father, only to see that he was barely paying attention to what Stef was telling him. "I would suggest that you listen to her," I told him. " She knows what she's talking about, and she's telling you exactly how to catch these fish." For only being three years old Stef spoke very clearly and directly. The father asked her how she came to know so much about fishing?
"Scott taught me, he knows everything about fishing." she said. At that point I think I might have blushed a little, but realized what a good listener, she was. She had repeated everything I told her, exactly, to the boy and his father.
They dipped their line into the water along side the dock, just like Steff had told them to do and within seconds they had a fish on. We helped them take it off the hook and release it and Stef was patting the boy on the back telling him what a good job he had done. It was funny to see this three year old little girl congratulating the seven or eight year old boy on catching the fish. It wasn't long after that, when the other Cub Scouts and parents came over to us to ask for help on catching fish. Again Stef offered each of them a fly from her box and a slice of bread. While I tied on all the flies, she held the fishing seminar, right there on the dock, explaining how fish needed shade for their eyes and that's why they would find the fish hiding under the dock.
After two hours we decided maybe we should head back to the house for the birthday cook out with cake and ice cream. Stef only had three flies left in her box. She had given most of them away so other children could have as much fun as she was having.
Shortly after that Stef and her parents moved to Strawberry Hill . We would see each other and get together from time to time but never found the opportunity to go fishing together. Seven years later we got together and they announced that they were being
transferred to Colorado and were leaving in a month. Stef said that we had to get together and fish at least one more time before they left. We made a date for that Friday night after I got off work.
Joyce and I went over to their house and had dinner together. It was almost seven o'clock and Stef asked if it was time to go fishing yet. "Yes," I said, "you'd better get your tackle together. As she turned to get her stuff, I asked what kind of pole she was using these days. "The one you gave me for my birthday when I was little," she replied. "Oh!" I said," you're getting too big for that." "Why don't you let me teach you how to use a spinning rod and reel." Stef thought that sounded great and wanted to go out in my kayak as well. I agreed to all her conditions and we set out for the lake. Once there and out in open water away from any obstructions I gave her a quick five minute instruction on how to cast and use a light action spinning rod and reel.
She quickly discovered that even though she was right handed, that she preferred to cast to her left side. So I made the adjustment with the kayak to put her in the most comfortable position for casting. I had already rigged the rod with a four inch plastic worm and was in the process of putting the kayak in position when Stef said," I think I have one." I didn't even know that she had made a cast! I looked at her in surprise and said," well set the hook!" She popped the rod tip up and noticed that she had slack in her line. I instructed her to take up the slack and reset the hook if she really thought she had a fish. She did so, and much to my surprise, the rod bent down under the boat. She held the rod tip up and reeled in a nice chunky twelve inch largemouth bass. Her first big fish. Stef brought along a little disposable camera for the moment. I took the fish off the hook for her and showed her how to hold the bass for the picture and then she released it. I showed her how to re-rig the worm and she was casting again. Casting the worm up near the bank and lifting the rod tip to move the worm slowly across the bottom, we both noticed that the line had stopped. "Fish?" I asked. "Nope... rock." she replied, and with a little twitch, lifted the worm over the rock and proceeded to fish. A huge smile crossed over my face with the thought of how well she was doing, her first time out and how she could distinguish between the strike of a fish and an obstruction. Every time she said she had a fish, she was right. We fished for two hours that evening and took six pictures. Stef caught and released seven largemouth bass and three good size crappie. Her largest bass for the evening weighed two pounds. Pretty nice, for her first time, fishing with a rod and reel.
Over the next few weeks I found myself drawing simple pictures of common lures with Paint Brush on my old computer and adding text below each one on suggested conditions and retrieves. Each time that we got together to go fishing, I would give her more to read about and study. I bought her, her own light action spinning rod and reel, a small tackle box and filled it with lures. Each time we went fishing, she would experiment with the different lures and remembered what I had written about them with the pictures. She used everything… from spinnerbaits, floating minnows, and deep diving crankbaits to rigging worms, grubs, and even using surface baits. She caught fish on almost everything too. The largest fish that she had caught before moving to Colorado was a nice two and a half pound largemouth bass on a surface bait in the early morning hours when the mist was on the water. I told her this was "Magic Time !"
Stef is out in Colorado now but we have sworn to get together again on the water. This time she is going to be the teacher and I will be the student. She is going to teach me how to fly fish for trout in the Colorado, streams. I just hope that I'm as good as student for her, as she was for me.
Written by J.Scott Keniston
The next weekend Joyce and I found ourselves at the local discount store. I wandered over to the sporting goods section and started looking over the cane poles and cheap assortments of multi-colored flies that you find in a dial up type of round container. "What are you going to do with those." Joyce asked. "This is for Stefs' birthday," I answered. A smile crossed her face as she exclaimed "you’re awfully good to her."
The day of Stef's Birthday finally came. Joyce and I presented her with the cane pole and box of flies. Stef's eyes lit up as she unwrapped our gift and the rest of the presents and celebration were put on hold. She asked if we would take her fishing right away? So with pole, flies, a bag of bread, and a camera to record the moment, the five of us went over to the lake.
I had never dealt with a three year old before, in regards to fishing. When we got to the lake and parked the car, we saw a number of other children with parents in tow, fishing from the dock that we were heading towards. It was a local Cub Scout Pack working on their fishing merit badge. As we stepped on to the dock, I asked if anyone was having any luck ? The reply was negative and Stef's parents had a slightly worried look on their face after hearing that no one was catching fish.
I sat down on the dock and began to tell Stef how fish relate to cover and shade to protect their eyes from bright sun, since they didn’t have eye lids to close or squint. I went on to say that since all the other kids were casting their lines out, away from the dock, in open water, and not having any luck, I would bet that all the fish were hiding under the dock waiting for her to catch them. Amazingly, she understood. I pinched a small piece of bread around the hook of the fly and she dipped it into the water. She saw the bluegills come out from under the dock to look at her offering and got very excited just seeing them. When the first one grabbed the fly and ran, she squealed with excitement. She lifted the fish out of the water and let me take it off the now barbless hook. Stef wanted to release the fish. She cradled it in her hands and bent over the side of the dock and bid the scrappy little fighter farewell.
While all this was going on the other children on the dock made sure that their parents were aware that “she” had just caught a fish and they too wanted to catch fish. I pinched another bit of bread on the hook and Stef lowered the offering into water. "I have another one," she exclaimed. We repeated this process a couple of dozen times within about a thirty minute time span. The other children on the dock were getting upset and their parents were getting a little annoyed. Finally the first brave soul swallowed his pride and walked over to where we were fishing and said," you sure are having good luck fishing today." "What’s your secret?" We showed him what we were doing and Stef offered them a fly to use and a slice of bread. While I tied the fly on his kids line, Stef began to tell them where the fish could be found. I looked up at the father, only to see that he was barely paying attention to what Stef was telling him. "I would suggest that you listen to her," I told him. " She knows what she's talking about, and she's telling you exactly how to catch these fish." For only being three years old Stef spoke very clearly and directly. The father asked her how she came to know so much about fishing?
"Scott taught me, he knows everything about fishing." she said. At that point I think I might have blushed a little, but realized what a good listener, she was. She had repeated everything I told her, exactly, to the boy and his father.
They dipped their line into the water along side the dock, just like Steff had told them to do and within seconds they had a fish on. We helped them take it off the hook and release it and Stef was patting the boy on the back telling him what a good job he had done. It was funny to see this three year old little girl congratulating the seven or eight year old boy on catching the fish. It wasn't long after that, when the other Cub Scouts and parents came over to us to ask for help on catching fish. Again Stef offered each of them a fly from her box and a slice of bread. While I tied on all the flies, she held the fishing seminar, right there on the dock, explaining how fish needed shade for their eyes and that's why they would find the fish hiding under the dock.
After two hours we decided maybe we should head back to the house for the birthday cook out with cake and ice cream. Stef only had three flies left in her box. She had given most of them away so other children could have as much fun as she was having.
Shortly after that Stef and her parents moved to Strawberry Hill . We would see each other and get together from time to time but never found the opportunity to go fishing together. Seven years later we got together and they announced that they were being
transferred to Colorado and were leaving in a month. Stef said that we had to get together and fish at least one more time before they left. We made a date for that Friday night after I got off work.
Joyce and I went over to their house and had dinner together. It was almost seven o'clock and Stef asked if it was time to go fishing yet. "Yes," I said, "you'd better get your tackle together. As she turned to get her stuff, I asked what kind of pole she was using these days. "The one you gave me for my birthday when I was little," she replied. "Oh!" I said," you're getting too big for that." "Why don't you let me teach you how to use a spinning rod and reel." Stef thought that sounded great and wanted to go out in my kayak as well. I agreed to all her conditions and we set out for the lake. Once there and out in open water away from any obstructions I gave her a quick five minute instruction on how to cast and use a light action spinning rod and reel.
She quickly discovered that even though she was right handed, that she preferred to cast to her left side. So I made the adjustment with the kayak to put her in the most comfortable position for casting. I had already rigged the rod with a four inch plastic worm and was in the process of putting the kayak in position when Stef said," I think I have one." I didn't even know that she had made a cast! I looked at her in surprise and said," well set the hook!" She popped the rod tip up and noticed that she had slack in her line. I instructed her to take up the slack and reset the hook if she really thought she had a fish. She did so, and much to my surprise, the rod bent down under the boat. She held the rod tip up and reeled in a nice chunky twelve inch largemouth bass. Her first big fish. Stef brought along a little disposable camera for the moment. I took the fish off the hook for her and showed her how to hold the bass for the picture and then she released it. I showed her how to re-rig the worm and she was casting again. Casting the worm up near the bank and lifting the rod tip to move the worm slowly across the bottom, we both noticed that the line had stopped. "Fish?" I asked. "Nope... rock." she replied, and with a little twitch, lifted the worm over the rock and proceeded to fish. A huge smile crossed over my face with the thought of how well she was doing, her first time out and how she could distinguish between the strike of a fish and an obstruction. Every time she said she had a fish, she was right. We fished for two hours that evening and took six pictures. Stef caught and released seven largemouth bass and three good size crappie. Her largest bass for the evening weighed two pounds. Pretty nice, for her first time, fishing with a rod and reel.
Over the next few weeks I found myself drawing simple pictures of common lures with Paint Brush on my old computer and adding text below each one on suggested conditions and retrieves. Each time that we got together to go fishing, I would give her more to read about and study. I bought her, her own light action spinning rod and reel, a small tackle box and filled it with lures. Each time we went fishing, she would experiment with the different lures and remembered what I had written about them with the pictures. She used everything… from spinnerbaits, floating minnows, and deep diving crankbaits to rigging worms, grubs, and even using surface baits. She caught fish on almost everything too. The largest fish that she had caught before moving to Colorado was a nice two and a half pound largemouth bass on a surface bait in the early morning hours when the mist was on the water. I told her this was "Magic Time !"
Stef is out in Colorado now but we have sworn to get together again on the water. This time she is going to be the teacher and I will be the student. She is going to teach me how to fly fish for trout in the Colorado, streams. I just hope that I'm as good as student for her, as she was for me.
Written by J.Scott Keniston
Wildlife when I was growing up!
A Disney wildlife scene
I was thinking back to the days when I was growing up, over on the west side of Cincinnati in Bridgetown, Ohio. I had a great childhood, played outside as long as the weather would let us and thought we had everything the outdoors could offer. We lived in a newer neighborhood on a cul-de-sak where two creeks merged and ran over the property line of a 100 acre farm. The creek and the farm were our playground.
We didn't have any Oak, Hickory or Walnut Trees in our neighborhood, all we had were Maple Trees.
Every now and then we might see an Opossum, some chipmunks and on one extremely cold winter's night a gray squirrel curled up with it's tail curled over its head and spent the night on my bedroom window sill, when I was a kid.
We had the usual collection of backyard birds, if you put out a feeder to attract them. If you didn't put out a feeder you might only see Robins and hear the occasional Blue Jay. But once a feeder was put up you'd see Goldfinches, Chickadees, Cardinals, Blue Jays and Tufted Tit Mice feeding together.
In the creeks we would see and catch crawdads, tadpoles, frogs, Garter Snakes and minnows and we'd find tons of fossils in the creek bed.
We never saw anything like a raccoon, duck, deer, heron or geese. We never even saw evidence around our neighborhood that any existed. No road kills, or over turned garbage cans or tracks in the sand around the creek. We never heard a duck quack or a goose honk as they flew over the neighborhood. We didn't have such things so we never missed them or even thought much of it. We would find such wildlife like this in far off lands like Indiana and Kentucky.
As I grew up my parents would take me camping in these far off lands and I would see and hear their presence and loved the experience. So much so, I wanted to be a Park Ranger when I grew up. I wanted to work in the outdoors and protect the wildlife and the woodlands they lived in. One ranger told my parents I should go into forestry. When I looked into the forestry program, they explained I would be figuring board feet of trees for the paper-pulp and lumber industry. This wasn't what I was all about ! I didn't want to cut trees down...I wanted to save them. You might say I was a tree-hugger.
Fast forward 20 years and I find myself living in Landen, with a small stand of trees behind our house, that we affectionately call "The Woods", surrounded by all kinds of wildlife that I had only seen in books or maybe a Disney Wildlife Feature on NBC, some Sunday Night, back in the olden days.
I can't explain the thrill I felt the first time I heard a flock of geese honking in the middle of a cold winter's night, winging their way south or maybe just to lay over on Landen Lake to catch their breath before continuing on their journey. Or maybe it was when I heard Great Horned Owls hooting in the early morning hours or a pair of raccoons squabbling over territory or a morsel of food or something? The weekend we moved into Landen, some 30 years ago, I had to go to work early that next morning and as I was driving out of the neighborhood for the first time, I was greeted by a pair of White-Tail Deer, crossing Simpson's Trace at the hiking trail, casually. They stopped and turned to look at me as if to say, "Good Morning, welcome to Landen!" They were so majestic !
All the times I took my kayak out on the lake and the things I'd see, I'm so thankful for. All the sunrises and sunsets, the herons, so many species of ducks and other water fowl, Little Brown Bats, Bald Eagles, White-tail Deer, and even the Canadian Geese ! I've caught many species of fish in Landen Lake and surrounding ponds, seen all kinds of turtles and snakes and lots of other species of birds that stop over here on their way north or south. I find it all incredibly fascinating and think myself lucky to have witnessed it all, so far. Did you know we have over 90 species of birds, including song birds, water fowl and birds of prey, that have been seen by me and fellow neighbors, just around Landen...not Loveland or Mason ?
Now I'm no saint. I have hunted before but that was in the olden days. For the most part I try to leave nature the way it is and help out when I can. I've created this website to help my fellow neighbors know what kind of fish and wildlife is around here and what benefits they provide. Now days I don't get out as much as I use to, so I rely on our neighbors and what they see, hear and photograph and send me to update the site. Thank you all !
Written & experienced by J.Scott Keniston
We didn't have any Oak, Hickory or Walnut Trees in our neighborhood, all we had were Maple Trees.
Every now and then we might see an Opossum, some chipmunks and on one extremely cold winter's night a gray squirrel curled up with it's tail curled over its head and spent the night on my bedroom window sill, when I was a kid.
We had the usual collection of backyard birds, if you put out a feeder to attract them. If you didn't put out a feeder you might only see Robins and hear the occasional Blue Jay. But once a feeder was put up you'd see Goldfinches, Chickadees, Cardinals, Blue Jays and Tufted Tit Mice feeding together.
In the creeks we would see and catch crawdads, tadpoles, frogs, Garter Snakes and minnows and we'd find tons of fossils in the creek bed.
We never saw anything like a raccoon, duck, deer, heron or geese. We never even saw evidence around our neighborhood that any existed. No road kills, or over turned garbage cans or tracks in the sand around the creek. We never heard a duck quack or a goose honk as they flew over the neighborhood. We didn't have such things so we never missed them or even thought much of it. We would find such wildlife like this in far off lands like Indiana and Kentucky.
As I grew up my parents would take me camping in these far off lands and I would see and hear their presence and loved the experience. So much so, I wanted to be a Park Ranger when I grew up. I wanted to work in the outdoors and protect the wildlife and the woodlands they lived in. One ranger told my parents I should go into forestry. When I looked into the forestry program, they explained I would be figuring board feet of trees for the paper-pulp and lumber industry. This wasn't what I was all about ! I didn't want to cut trees down...I wanted to save them. You might say I was a tree-hugger.
Fast forward 20 years and I find myself living in Landen, with a small stand of trees behind our house, that we affectionately call "The Woods", surrounded by all kinds of wildlife that I had only seen in books or maybe a Disney Wildlife Feature on NBC, some Sunday Night, back in the olden days.
I can't explain the thrill I felt the first time I heard a flock of geese honking in the middle of a cold winter's night, winging their way south or maybe just to lay over on Landen Lake to catch their breath before continuing on their journey. Or maybe it was when I heard Great Horned Owls hooting in the early morning hours or a pair of raccoons squabbling over territory or a morsel of food or something? The weekend we moved into Landen, some 30 years ago, I had to go to work early that next morning and as I was driving out of the neighborhood for the first time, I was greeted by a pair of White-Tail Deer, crossing Simpson's Trace at the hiking trail, casually. They stopped and turned to look at me as if to say, "Good Morning, welcome to Landen!" They were so majestic !
All the times I took my kayak out on the lake and the things I'd see, I'm so thankful for. All the sunrises and sunsets, the herons, so many species of ducks and other water fowl, Little Brown Bats, Bald Eagles, White-tail Deer, and even the Canadian Geese ! I've caught many species of fish in Landen Lake and surrounding ponds, seen all kinds of turtles and snakes and lots of other species of birds that stop over here on their way north or south. I find it all incredibly fascinating and think myself lucky to have witnessed it all, so far. Did you know we have over 90 species of birds, including song birds, water fowl and birds of prey, that have been seen by me and fellow neighbors, just around Landen...not Loveland or Mason ?
Now I'm no saint. I have hunted before but that was in the olden days. For the most part I try to leave nature the way it is and help out when I can. I've created this website to help my fellow neighbors know what kind of fish and wildlife is around here and what benefits they provide. Now days I don't get out as much as I use to, so I rely on our neighbors and what they see, hear and photograph and send me to update the site. Thank you all !
Written & experienced by J.Scott Keniston
Master Ug Way of Landen Lake
Local Raccoon
Just a little story about Landen's own Master Ug Way. Back in the Spring of 1991, I got out my FOLBOT, (2-man) Kayak to try some of the fishing at Landen our first Spring, living here. I think I was near Sailboat Pointe when all of a sudden this "HUGE" Snapping Turtle surfaced right next to me and raised his head, perhaps to get a better look at me. A few seconds later it lowered its head in order to ram the side of my boat with its shell. Once I had been rammed he raised his head again, as if to maybe check the damage it might have inflicted. I took my paddle and tapped the top of his shell and he immediately submerged and was never seen again that season. The following Spring, I was out in my POKE BOAT (1-man fiberglass) kayak and all of a sudden he surfaces next to my boat and repeats the ramming exercise with his shell. Again I tapped the top of his shell and he submerged for another season. This has gone on every year we lived here until last year when I was no longer able to get out in my kayaks. I wonder if he thinks I've died. I call him Master Ug Way (from Kung-Fu Panda). I've never heard of him doing this to any other boater, canoer or kayaker on Landen Lake. I'm sure he is still alive. He is the biggest and badest of the Snappers in Landen Lake. All others are his sons, grandsons and so on.... I miss seeing Master Ug Way annually. We did this every season for thirty years. I hope he is well.
Experienced & Written by J.Scott Keniston
Experienced & Written by J.Scott Keniston
To the Victor.....
Dead Snapper
Ever since that first fishing season, after we moved to Landen, the great grand daddy of Snappers made his presence know to me. From the begining he would surface next to my kayak, size me up, lower his head and ram the boat with his shell. Afterwards I would tap his shell with my paddle and he would submerge and not repeat this ritual for another year. This went on for thirty years.
I spent a lot of time on Landen Lake, fishing. When the fishing wasn't so good, I paid attention to the other forms of wildlife in and around the lake.
What started out as mere observation turned into studies of their habits. Geese, fish, snakes, birds, waterfowl and even the turtles. I bought a small pair of binoculars and camera to keep in my tackle bag so I could try to accurately identify and possibly photograph what I was seeing.
One particular morning, while out fishing, I couldn't help noticing a pair of good size snapping turtles rolling around in the cove between Sailboat Pointe and Chestnut Landing. I put my rod down and turned the kayak towards them and got my camera out. There was a slight breeze pushing me closer to the pair of snappers. I'd say these might have been the sons or grand sons of the grand daddy snapper.
As I was trying to focus my camera and take as close of a shot as I could, the little breeze pushed me even closer to them. Close enough for them to divert their attention towards me and not worry so much about each other. They turned and came towards me as I was aiming the camera. I could see they were getting too close and I set the camera down and picked up my paddle, thinking this might scare them away....It didn't. I tried to get my paddle in the water and take a stroke backwards but they were too close and I was only able to dip one paddle end in the water, resulting in kind of a spiral movement.
One of the Turtles put one of his hands on the side of the boat and was about to lift himself into the kayak. His hands were bigger than mine. The other one was quickly pulling up along his side and making the same move with his hands. I clunked my paddle down on both of their shells and that seemed to be enough to get them off the boat but they kept coming. I now had enough room to stick my paddles in the water and make several strong strokes backwards to get away from them. They kept coming towwards me so I kept moving away from them more quickly.
Finally they lost interest in me and went back to fighting each other. I figured I had better stay away and give up on getting a picture of them. They went back to fighting each other.
I watched as they took turns trying to drown each other but with no success. Then the fighting got more vicious. It looked like they were standing on their back legs and wrestling for position and savagely ripping at each other's flesh. Their shells clunked together, heads butted but then one had the other by the throat. It looked like it was trying to rip the other's throat out or maybe crush its windpipe, causing it to suffocate.
I don't know how long I watched them in this death grip but it finally ended with one submerging and swimming off and the other floating lifelessly on the surface. I wanted to see what had killed it but I think I was half afraid it might have been playing possum and come to life if I got closer to it. I stayed away and took it's picture. To the victor comes the spoils...and in this case that means the right to mate with the females.
Maybe a week later I could hear heavy grunting and I knew what was happening. I chuckled to myself as I listened and continued casting my line and hoping to catch Largemouth Bass.
Experienced & Written by J.Scott Keniston
I spent a lot of time on Landen Lake, fishing. When the fishing wasn't so good, I paid attention to the other forms of wildlife in and around the lake.
What started out as mere observation turned into studies of their habits. Geese, fish, snakes, birds, waterfowl and even the turtles. I bought a small pair of binoculars and camera to keep in my tackle bag so I could try to accurately identify and possibly photograph what I was seeing.
One particular morning, while out fishing, I couldn't help noticing a pair of good size snapping turtles rolling around in the cove between Sailboat Pointe and Chestnut Landing. I put my rod down and turned the kayak towards them and got my camera out. There was a slight breeze pushing me closer to the pair of snappers. I'd say these might have been the sons or grand sons of the grand daddy snapper.
As I was trying to focus my camera and take as close of a shot as I could, the little breeze pushed me even closer to them. Close enough for them to divert their attention towards me and not worry so much about each other. They turned and came towards me as I was aiming the camera. I could see they were getting too close and I set the camera down and picked up my paddle, thinking this might scare them away....It didn't. I tried to get my paddle in the water and take a stroke backwards but they were too close and I was only able to dip one paddle end in the water, resulting in kind of a spiral movement.
One of the Turtles put one of his hands on the side of the boat and was about to lift himself into the kayak. His hands were bigger than mine. The other one was quickly pulling up along his side and making the same move with his hands. I clunked my paddle down on both of their shells and that seemed to be enough to get them off the boat but they kept coming. I now had enough room to stick my paddles in the water and make several strong strokes backwards to get away from them. They kept coming towwards me so I kept moving away from them more quickly.
Finally they lost interest in me and went back to fighting each other. I figured I had better stay away and give up on getting a picture of them. They went back to fighting each other.
I watched as they took turns trying to drown each other but with no success. Then the fighting got more vicious. It looked like they were standing on their back legs and wrestling for position and savagely ripping at each other's flesh. Their shells clunked together, heads butted but then one had the other by the throat. It looked like it was trying to rip the other's throat out or maybe crush its windpipe, causing it to suffocate.
I don't know how long I watched them in this death grip but it finally ended with one submerging and swimming off and the other floating lifelessly on the surface. I wanted to see what had killed it but I think I was half afraid it might have been playing possum and come to life if I got closer to it. I stayed away and took it's picture. To the victor comes the spoils...and in this case that means the right to mate with the females.
Maybe a week later I could hear heavy grunting and I knew what was happening. I chuckled to myself as I listened and continued casting my line and hoping to catch Largemouth Bass.
Experienced & Written by J.Scott Keniston
Aliens ???
I believe we are not alone in this universe, always have ! This incident I'm going to tell you about wasn't what made me a believer but just re-enforced these beliefs.
It was winter time in Landen and I was always up early and off to work in the darkness. As I took the garbage cans to the curb or brought in the morning paper for Joyce, I would always take time to look up into the sky. I loved seeing the crystal clear mornings of winter and seeing my old pal, Orion, the Hunter, in the stars. He's easily seen in the morning with his bright belt of three stars, going around his waist.
This particular morning, as I was looking up, I saw what I first thought was a shooting star ! It came down from the star that would be Orion's out stretched arm on the right side of the constellation and then arced to the first star in his belt on the right. That's right...arced !!!
OH Wow, that was cool, I thought ! But then I got to thinking about what I had just seen and how unnatural it had been ! Shooting stars don't arc, they travel in a straight line and they don't stop ! Then, as I pondered this and continued looking at the Orion stars...the shooting star or comet or....whatever, took off again and this time making a 90 degree turn to the left and shooting totally out of my sight, in a split second ! What had I just seen? I contained myself though out the day and told Joyce and my best friend Davy about it that evening. I'm not sure if they believed me or not, but I put it out there for them to hear and hopefully remember.
Several years later, Lenard Nimoy hosted some sort of unexplained mystery show on the Fox network. I never use to watch it but this night when I turned the TV on, it was set to their channel and the show was about to start! They showed a couple of quick previews of what would be covered in this evenings episode and one of the film clips was of my object, flying around Orion !
I grabbed the phone and dialed Davy as quickly as I could, while shouting for Joyce to come quickly ! While Davey was answering the phone, I was screaming to Joyce that my UFO sighting was videoed and they were going to show it on this program. Davy tuned in his TV and Joyce sat down and when they returned from the commercial break, this video was the first thing they showed and discussed ! "That's what I saw that morning" I screamed ! "Remember, I told you guys about it ?" Lenard couldn't explain what we had just seen but went on to say that this wasn't a shooting star ! Shooting stars don't curve, stop and then change directions. "That's what I said", I told them!! I hung up the phone with Davy and sat there with Joyce and watched the rest of the show, but this just kind of confirmed my belief that we are not the only forms of intelligent life in these galaxies !
Witnessed and Written by J.Scott Keniston
It was winter time in Landen and I was always up early and off to work in the darkness. As I took the garbage cans to the curb or brought in the morning paper for Joyce, I would always take time to look up into the sky. I loved seeing the crystal clear mornings of winter and seeing my old pal, Orion, the Hunter, in the stars. He's easily seen in the morning with his bright belt of three stars, going around his waist.
This particular morning, as I was looking up, I saw what I first thought was a shooting star ! It came down from the star that would be Orion's out stretched arm on the right side of the constellation and then arced to the first star in his belt on the right. That's right...arced !!!
OH Wow, that was cool, I thought ! But then I got to thinking about what I had just seen and how unnatural it had been ! Shooting stars don't arc, they travel in a straight line and they don't stop ! Then, as I pondered this and continued looking at the Orion stars...the shooting star or comet or....whatever, took off again and this time making a 90 degree turn to the left and shooting totally out of my sight, in a split second ! What had I just seen? I contained myself though out the day and told Joyce and my best friend Davy about it that evening. I'm not sure if they believed me or not, but I put it out there for them to hear and hopefully remember.
Several years later, Lenard Nimoy hosted some sort of unexplained mystery show on the Fox network. I never use to watch it but this night when I turned the TV on, it was set to their channel and the show was about to start! They showed a couple of quick previews of what would be covered in this evenings episode and one of the film clips was of my object, flying around Orion !
I grabbed the phone and dialed Davy as quickly as I could, while shouting for Joyce to come quickly ! While Davey was answering the phone, I was screaming to Joyce that my UFO sighting was videoed and they were going to show it on this program. Davy tuned in his TV and Joyce sat down and when they returned from the commercial break, this video was the first thing they showed and discussed ! "That's what I saw that morning" I screamed ! "Remember, I told you guys about it ?" Lenard couldn't explain what we had just seen but went on to say that this wasn't a shooting star ! Shooting stars don't curve, stop and then change directions. "That's what I said", I told them!! I hung up the phone with Davy and sat there with Joyce and watched the rest of the show, but this just kind of confirmed my belief that we are not the only forms of intelligent life in these galaxies !
Witnessed and Written by J.Scott Keniston
A Case of Mistaken Identiy
Local Raccoon
The other night Joyce got up from our nightly card game to get something to drink from the kitchen. Precious (Boozie) her cat was outside and she thought she saw it on the back porch and went to let her in. She opened the door and I heard her say, there you are pretty girl...come on in....it's cold out here. Apparently it wasn't the cat but a raccoon on the porch and it seemed as if it was going to come in with Joyce until Joyce finally noticed it wasn't the cat, and that it was indeed a raccoon ! Now I hear her say in a stronger tone of voice, you're not Boozie ! and evidently the raccoon turned around and slowly, dejectedly got off the back porch and then the cat came in. It was almost like that old commercial on TV for eye glasses, huh ?
Written by J.Scott Keniston
Written by J.Scott Keniston
(NEW) I may have had a little Obi-Wan Kenobi in me
Largemouth Bass
If I had been paying attention to the habits of fish when I was younger, I may have put two and two together and realized that as far as fishing goes for ponds, it's the edges that are more productive and not the middle, where we were always instructed to cast out to...to catch the "BIG Ones" !
I remember fishing at Stonelick Lake in my early teens and catching Crappie close to shore and near submerged bushes and tree limbs. Seeing Largemouth Bass in the shallows and casting to it, only to have it turn up its nose at my offerings. Not realizing it was a male Bass, guarding the nest after the female spawned.
I rowed Whitey around the shorelines of Pennyryle Lake so he could catch Bass on a plastic worm as he casted towards shore and hooked up with many Bass. It wasn't until my mid-twenties when I met Kenny and listened to his stories and teachings did I actually put those memories and lessons to practical use.
I guess it was Joyce's son's friend Tim was my first pupil, teaching him what I had learned from Kenny. The boys had spent an afternoon at Ceasar's Creek Lake fishing without success. When they got home, Tim said he wanted to learn how to fish from me and learn my ways, and not fish the way they had done that afternoon. We went out and bought him a good rod and reel, spooled it with the appropriate size line and picked up some basic fishing lures. We started out with a number 7 or 9 Rapala Floating Minnow and I taught him how to cast and twitch the lure to targeted areas that might be best for attracting Bass and enticing a strike. He was totally amazed when he caught his first Bass and then the second and... Tim was my first success story.
Then there was Stephanie at age three and teaching her the basics to fishing for Bluegills, using a cane pole and cheap trout flies tipped with doughballs. Telling her how fish used places like the dock we were going to fish off of, as a way to shade their eyes and hide under. I explained that once we got her rigged up, she would have more success dipping her offering just off the side of the dock and just below the surface of the water. Steph had a great experience and caught many Bluegills that afternoon. Her parents would take her to the lake many times after that and she remembered her lessons and continued to catch fish.
Then Rolland, the twelve year old boy that offered to help me land a big Carp, while fishing from my kayak. I started him out like I had done with Tim. He had a rod, reel, and small tackle box that I had inspected. I provided him with a few more lures to add to his tackle box and took him around to all the best locations to find and catch fish on Landen Lake. This was his first experience fishing from a boat, much less a kayak. I set him up with the same rig I did with Tim, having him cast the floating minnow into places where Bass might ambush their prey. Tossing the lure into the target area...letting it sit a little while and then twitching it a couple times before retrieving it. This method was producing fish for the boy. He learned a lot that day.
Thinking back it must have been when Joyce said her son would like to try fishing with me from the kayak. I loaned him one of my rod and reel combos and set out on the lake. This time I set him up with lead headed jig and a Swim'n Shad, soft plastic body. The Bass weren't big but they were plentiful and made his day. I paddled the kayak down the bank and he made cast after cast, usually catching a fish on most of the casts. I think we changed lures and started casting a number 7 Shad Rap off a deep point and started catching Striped Bass. That was the icing on the cake for him.
Then came Joyce's first grandson. at age three...just like Steph, I had him catching Bluegills off the dock at Landen just like she did. I taught him all the same things she learned. After Steph's parents moved to Colorado, Joyce went out to visit her daughter and her family and ended up going to visit Steph and her parents. It was there the kids found out they both liked fishing and had both been taught by me. Now they had a bond ! I was glad they remembered.
Before Steph's parents transferred to Colorado, she and I got together and fished out of my kayak. She was now going to graduate from cane pole to spinning rod and reel combo, I picked up for her. Teaching her how to make short casts from the boat, tying on different lures with a simple, tried & true knot that I've used FOREVER, then rigging her up with a 4 inch purple worm with a curly firetail. She was a Natural ! She was catching Bass & Crappie like a little pro. After they moved to Colorado, she continued fishing...making me proud.
When Joyce's youngest grandson came around, I think he had been taught by his father, who learned from me. By the time we did our first fishing adventure in the kayak, he was already an accomplished caster. I think I remember putting him on Bass while out in the kakyak but it was the trip to the Little Miami River that made a bigger impression on him. He was all rigged up with a Swim'n Shad and casting into the riffles and practicing a fast retrieve. All of a sudden he had "FISH ON" ! Whatever it was, it took off to the left, across the river and headed south, stripping line the whole way. Finally the line snapped and the young fisherman stood there quivering and asked me what it was, he had hooked into ? I wasn't sure...it could have been a nice Smallmouth Bass but it was probably a Gar and I don't think he wanted to catch one of those toothy critters.
I know I have tried, over the years to stir up interest in fishing with some of the teenage lifeguards we have, every summer at the pool but I don't think I have been successful. So maybe my days of being Obi-wan are over. Maybe I'll try bank fishing with Joyce and see if she can catch a big Carp or Catfish, over at Pond Woods again.
Taught & Written by J.Scott Keniston
I remember fishing at Stonelick Lake in my early teens and catching Crappie close to shore and near submerged bushes and tree limbs. Seeing Largemouth Bass in the shallows and casting to it, only to have it turn up its nose at my offerings. Not realizing it was a male Bass, guarding the nest after the female spawned.
I rowed Whitey around the shorelines of Pennyryle Lake so he could catch Bass on a plastic worm as he casted towards shore and hooked up with many Bass. It wasn't until my mid-twenties when I met Kenny and listened to his stories and teachings did I actually put those memories and lessons to practical use.
I guess it was Joyce's son's friend Tim was my first pupil, teaching him what I had learned from Kenny. The boys had spent an afternoon at Ceasar's Creek Lake fishing without success. When they got home, Tim said he wanted to learn how to fish from me and learn my ways, and not fish the way they had done that afternoon. We went out and bought him a good rod and reel, spooled it with the appropriate size line and picked up some basic fishing lures. We started out with a number 7 or 9 Rapala Floating Minnow and I taught him how to cast and twitch the lure to targeted areas that might be best for attracting Bass and enticing a strike. He was totally amazed when he caught his first Bass and then the second and... Tim was my first success story.
Then there was Stephanie at age three and teaching her the basics to fishing for Bluegills, using a cane pole and cheap trout flies tipped with doughballs. Telling her how fish used places like the dock we were going to fish off of, as a way to shade their eyes and hide under. I explained that once we got her rigged up, she would have more success dipping her offering just off the side of the dock and just below the surface of the water. Steph had a great experience and caught many Bluegills that afternoon. Her parents would take her to the lake many times after that and she remembered her lessons and continued to catch fish.
Then Rolland, the twelve year old boy that offered to help me land a big Carp, while fishing from my kayak. I started him out like I had done with Tim. He had a rod, reel, and small tackle box that I had inspected. I provided him with a few more lures to add to his tackle box and took him around to all the best locations to find and catch fish on Landen Lake. This was his first experience fishing from a boat, much less a kayak. I set him up with the same rig I did with Tim, having him cast the floating minnow into places where Bass might ambush their prey. Tossing the lure into the target area...letting it sit a little while and then twitching it a couple times before retrieving it. This method was producing fish for the boy. He learned a lot that day.
Thinking back it must have been when Joyce said her son would like to try fishing with me from the kayak. I loaned him one of my rod and reel combos and set out on the lake. This time I set him up with lead headed jig and a Swim'n Shad, soft plastic body. The Bass weren't big but they were plentiful and made his day. I paddled the kayak down the bank and he made cast after cast, usually catching a fish on most of the casts. I think we changed lures and started casting a number 7 Shad Rap off a deep point and started catching Striped Bass. That was the icing on the cake for him.
Then came Joyce's first grandson. at age three...just like Steph, I had him catching Bluegills off the dock at Landen just like she did. I taught him all the same things she learned. After Steph's parents moved to Colorado, Joyce went out to visit her daughter and her family and ended up going to visit Steph and her parents. It was there the kids found out they both liked fishing and had both been taught by me. Now they had a bond ! I was glad they remembered.
Before Steph's parents transferred to Colorado, she and I got together and fished out of my kayak. She was now going to graduate from cane pole to spinning rod and reel combo, I picked up for her. Teaching her how to make short casts from the boat, tying on different lures with a simple, tried & true knot that I've used FOREVER, then rigging her up with a 4 inch purple worm with a curly firetail. She was a Natural ! She was catching Bass & Crappie like a little pro. After they moved to Colorado, she continued fishing...making me proud.
When Joyce's youngest grandson came around, I think he had been taught by his father, who learned from me. By the time we did our first fishing adventure in the kayak, he was already an accomplished caster. I think I remember putting him on Bass while out in the kakyak but it was the trip to the Little Miami River that made a bigger impression on him. He was all rigged up with a Swim'n Shad and casting into the riffles and practicing a fast retrieve. All of a sudden he had "FISH ON" ! Whatever it was, it took off to the left, across the river and headed south, stripping line the whole way. Finally the line snapped and the young fisherman stood there quivering and asked me what it was, he had hooked into ? I wasn't sure...it could have been a nice Smallmouth Bass but it was probably a Gar and I don't think he wanted to catch one of those toothy critters.
I know I have tried, over the years to stir up interest in fishing with some of the teenage lifeguards we have, every summer at the pool but I don't think I have been successful. So maybe my days of being Obi-wan are over. Maybe I'll try bank fishing with Joyce and see if she can catch a big Carp or Catfish, over at Pond Woods again.
Taught & Written by J.Scott Keniston
Me and the Duck
A lonely baby Mallard Duck in the middle of the lake
There I was… one early summer morning, getting ready to fish on Landen Lake. I love fishing early in the morning when mist covers the surface of the water but this was ridiculous ! The fog was so thick. I couldn’t see either shoreline. Everything was calm and quiet. My kayak and I hardly made a sound as it glided across the water. Robins weren’t even awake yet. I scared a couple of women that were out for an early morning walk, when I got to close to the north shore and my kayak was visible to them. They said the kayak looked like an alligator coming out of the mist. What imaginations! Alligators, in southern Ohio? We laughed it off and they wished me luck as they continued to walk and I continued fishing.
All of a sudden, I could hear the quacking or whistling of a young duck. As luck would have it, the fog began to lift and I could see this little ball of yellow and brown fluff swimming across the surface.
If you knew me, you’d know that I’m not quite right when it comes to birds, fish, animals and insects. I talk to them as if they understood me.
Sound carries very well across water. I didn’t have to raise my voice and disturb any slumbering, lakeside residents when I called out to the duckling. “What are you doing out here, all by yourself?” I said. The duckling stopped quacking and turned towards the sound of my voice. “Come over here to me.” The duckling began swimming the distance between us. I scolded it, telling it the dangers of snapping turtles and largemouth bass in this lake, the likes of which could suck down a duckling of this size, very easily. I kept talking to it , calmly and quietly, as it swam towards me. Finally it got close enough and I told the duckling to get on the end of my paddle and I’d lift it into the kayak where it was safe and warm. So I stuck the paddle out, just under the surface of the water and the little ball of fluff glided across it and I lifted her into the kayak. Without hardly a peep, I set her down in my lap. She snuggled down and lay quietly as I continued to cast my line in hopes of catching huge bass.
As the sun came up, the lake came alive with sounds and light. Ducks, geese, herons, crows, blue jays, purple martins, king fishers and squirrels all chirping, honking, shuddering, squawking and barking. As their sounds filled the air, my little friend would raise her head and look around and quack and whistle from time to time. We were now near the little cove behind Sailboat Pointe, where the old weeping willow tree hung over the waters’ edge, well away from the point where I rescued her. Probably, a good quarter mile, up the lake, away from that spot. A pair of Mallard Ducks came off the bank, ahead of us, just swimming along normally, as ducks do. I called to them. “Would you take care of this baby for me?” The pair turned towards me. I took the tiny duckling and cradled her little body in my hands and gently eased her into the water. The hen swam up and put herself between me and the duckling, to protect her and headed off towards the shore. Then the drake came up and put himself between me and the hen tending to the baby, protecting them both all the way back to the shoreline.
I thanked the pair as they sat in the sun together, preening. I went on and fished and enjoyed the morning as I thought about this odd little series of events that had occurred.
I went back out on the lake later that evening and met my friend Tim, from Carriage Gate, there. We slid or kayaks into the water and prepared our tackle. As we fished, I told him the story of the duckling that morning. He laughed and looked at me like I was weird but amusing... I know the look, I’m used to it.
Later that summer Tim and I found ourselves out for another evening of fishing. As we pushed away from the boat ramp, a raft of ducks scurried out of our way as the kayaks cut through the water, effortlessly. All except one. This young Mallard hen circled outside the hurried others and swam right up along side my kayak. I reached out and petted her head and asked her how she was this evening ?
Tim looked at me and the duck in disbelief and said, “you don’t think that’s the duck you saved, do you?” “Sure.” I replied. “I’d bet money on it.” He just shook his head in amazement as we laughed. She swam back to the others, in her group. I just think she wanted to say Hi and thanks and let me know she was doing alright.
Experienced & Written by J.Scott Keniston
All of a sudden, I could hear the quacking or whistling of a young duck. As luck would have it, the fog began to lift and I could see this little ball of yellow and brown fluff swimming across the surface.
If you knew me, you’d know that I’m not quite right when it comes to birds, fish, animals and insects. I talk to them as if they understood me.
Sound carries very well across water. I didn’t have to raise my voice and disturb any slumbering, lakeside residents when I called out to the duckling. “What are you doing out here, all by yourself?” I said. The duckling stopped quacking and turned towards the sound of my voice. “Come over here to me.” The duckling began swimming the distance between us. I scolded it, telling it the dangers of snapping turtles and largemouth bass in this lake, the likes of which could suck down a duckling of this size, very easily. I kept talking to it , calmly and quietly, as it swam towards me. Finally it got close enough and I told the duckling to get on the end of my paddle and I’d lift it into the kayak where it was safe and warm. So I stuck the paddle out, just under the surface of the water and the little ball of fluff glided across it and I lifted her into the kayak. Without hardly a peep, I set her down in my lap. She snuggled down and lay quietly as I continued to cast my line in hopes of catching huge bass.
As the sun came up, the lake came alive with sounds and light. Ducks, geese, herons, crows, blue jays, purple martins, king fishers and squirrels all chirping, honking, shuddering, squawking and barking. As their sounds filled the air, my little friend would raise her head and look around and quack and whistle from time to time. We were now near the little cove behind Sailboat Pointe, where the old weeping willow tree hung over the waters’ edge, well away from the point where I rescued her. Probably, a good quarter mile, up the lake, away from that spot. A pair of Mallard Ducks came off the bank, ahead of us, just swimming along normally, as ducks do. I called to them. “Would you take care of this baby for me?” The pair turned towards me. I took the tiny duckling and cradled her little body in my hands and gently eased her into the water. The hen swam up and put herself between me and the duckling, to protect her and headed off towards the shore. Then the drake came up and put himself between me and the hen tending to the baby, protecting them both all the way back to the shoreline.
I thanked the pair as they sat in the sun together, preening. I went on and fished and enjoyed the morning as I thought about this odd little series of events that had occurred.
I went back out on the lake later that evening and met my friend Tim, from Carriage Gate, there. We slid or kayaks into the water and prepared our tackle. As we fished, I told him the story of the duckling that morning. He laughed and looked at me like I was weird but amusing... I know the look, I’m used to it.
Later that summer Tim and I found ourselves out for another evening of fishing. As we pushed away from the boat ramp, a raft of ducks scurried out of our way as the kayaks cut through the water, effortlessly. All except one. This young Mallard hen circled outside the hurried others and swam right up along side my kayak. I reached out and petted her head and asked her how she was this evening ?
Tim looked at me and the duck in disbelief and said, “you don’t think that’s the duck you saved, do you?” “Sure.” I replied. “I’d bet money on it.” He just shook his head in amazement as we laughed. She swam back to the others, in her group. I just think she wanted to say Hi and thanks and let me know she was doing alright.
Experienced & Written by J.Scott Keniston
Chatty & Peep
Chickadees Chatty & Peep
One spring day, while sitting on the deck in our backyard, I noticed a pair of Chickadees preparing to build a nest in one of the little bird houses we had purchased at a Dollar Store. I was sitting maybe six feet away from their future home and couldn't help noticing the pair and the commotion one of them was putting up.
I sat and watched intently. They were gathering materials for building their nest. Although they all look the same to me, I soon decided which one was female and which was the male. She would fly off and bring back the perfect building materials and arrange them, just so. Then she would tell him what to look for and where to go and he would respond with a single "peep !" He would then fly off and come back with more materials, give them to her and she would do the arranging inside the nest. She would give more orders and he would again reply with his single "peep !"
I could just imagine the conversation... She might tell him to, go into the woods, make a left at the old oak tree and bring me the newest grasses, growing in the meadow. He would respond, "Yes dear." and fly off.
While they busied themselves with their building and instructions, I talked quietly to them. I commented once about what a chatty little thing she was. The name stuck. I now referred to her as Chatty and because of his single responces...I called him Peep. I watched for over an hour. Sometimes Peep would return with less than suitable materials for their nest and she would take and throw his materials away, scold him and now repeat what materials were suitable. He would respond with his usual , "peep".
Pretty soon, Joyce came out on the deck to sit with me. She asked what I had been doing ? I told her I was watching Chatty & Peep building their nest. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Chatty & Peep ? I explained what had been going on and how they were both out at this time gathering more building materials but if she sat with me, they would be back momentarily and she would see what I was talking about.
Soon, Chatty and Peep returned from their gathering mission, she arranged all that she had brought and then took his contributions and did the same before coming back out to give new instructions to Peep. Joyce and I laughed, she could definately tell who was Chatty and who was Peep. The building went on for the rest of that day and part of the next.
Before we knew it, the babies were hatched and coming out of the birdhouse. Once they came out of the house they never went back in. That jump out of the house and on to the ground must have been the one and only flying lesson. From then on they flew around the yard, following their parents, wherever they flew to. To look at a Chickadee baby, out of the nest, you can't tell them apart from their parents. Same size, same coloration. The only difference is, that the babies will cry for food and shudder their bodies and wings until fed. The feeding has to be exhausting for the parents. The babies never seem to get full...but then, all of a sudden, the parents show the babies how to get seed, open the seed and eat it. This seemed to happen within the week after coming out of the nest. Once this happens, the parents no longer cater to the needs of their babies...they are on their own. I have seen the babbies cry and shudder after being shown how to feed themselves but the parents show no sign of sympathy and soon the baby will land on the feeder and get it's own seed, open it and eat it.
We have lots of Chickadees around our backyard but I've never seen a pair as identifable as Chatty & Peep.
Observed & Written by J.Scott Keniston
I sat and watched intently. They were gathering materials for building their nest. Although they all look the same to me, I soon decided which one was female and which was the male. She would fly off and bring back the perfect building materials and arrange them, just so. Then she would tell him what to look for and where to go and he would respond with a single "peep !" He would then fly off and come back with more materials, give them to her and she would do the arranging inside the nest. She would give more orders and he would again reply with his single "peep !"
I could just imagine the conversation... She might tell him to, go into the woods, make a left at the old oak tree and bring me the newest grasses, growing in the meadow. He would respond, "Yes dear." and fly off.
While they busied themselves with their building and instructions, I talked quietly to them. I commented once about what a chatty little thing she was. The name stuck. I now referred to her as Chatty and because of his single responces...I called him Peep. I watched for over an hour. Sometimes Peep would return with less than suitable materials for their nest and she would take and throw his materials away, scold him and now repeat what materials were suitable. He would respond with his usual , "peep".
Pretty soon, Joyce came out on the deck to sit with me. She asked what I had been doing ? I told her I was watching Chatty & Peep building their nest. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Chatty & Peep ? I explained what had been going on and how they were both out at this time gathering more building materials but if she sat with me, they would be back momentarily and she would see what I was talking about.
Soon, Chatty and Peep returned from their gathering mission, she arranged all that she had brought and then took his contributions and did the same before coming back out to give new instructions to Peep. Joyce and I laughed, she could definately tell who was Chatty and who was Peep. The building went on for the rest of that day and part of the next.
Before we knew it, the babies were hatched and coming out of the birdhouse. Once they came out of the house they never went back in. That jump out of the house and on to the ground must have been the one and only flying lesson. From then on they flew around the yard, following their parents, wherever they flew to. To look at a Chickadee baby, out of the nest, you can't tell them apart from their parents. Same size, same coloration. The only difference is, that the babies will cry for food and shudder their bodies and wings until fed. The feeding has to be exhausting for the parents. The babies never seem to get full...but then, all of a sudden, the parents show the babies how to get seed, open the seed and eat it. This seemed to happen within the week after coming out of the nest. Once this happens, the parents no longer cater to the needs of their babies...they are on their own. I have seen the babbies cry and shudder after being shown how to feed themselves but the parents show no sign of sympathy and soon the baby will land on the feeder and get it's own seed, open it and eat it.
We have lots of Chickadees around our backyard but I've never seen a pair as identifable as Chatty & Peep.
Observed & Written by J.Scott Keniston
The Landen Fairy-tale
Sunset over the Kingdom photo by Jane
Once upon a time, in a land not so far away was the Kingdom of Landen. It was there where a magical pond could be found and was affectionately called Landen Lake. Fish and wildlife abound around this magical pond and Kingdom.
Then one day, a mysterious, dark force decided the water level needed to be lowered in order for an earth moving project to take place around this Lake of Landen.
The Lord of Landen sent out his guards to open the sacred valve to lower the level of the water in the Lake of Landen. The guards opened the valve but didn't realize they had opened it too far ! The lake drained quickly, leaving nothing but a large puddle of muddy water at the base of the overflow.
All the fish were trapped in the muddy, puddle and flopped around on top of each other, gasping for air ! Giant Catfish flopped over the top of Bass, Carp, Bluegill and Crappie.
Some of the young lads from the Kingdom thought this was a perfect opportunity to catch some of the BIG Fish and set out on their quest. Once along the banks of the cherished pond, most of the young lads decided it was too muddy to try to get down to the water's edge and try to catch the fish. But one young lad persisted and began to make his way through the muck and mud.
About half way to the water's edge the young lad began to sink in the mud. He struggled and sank more from the suction of the mud. He called for his friends to come help but they couldn't. They didn't want to sink in the mud like he had done. One of the lads ran to a near by villager's house and asked if they could call for help ?
The Royal Fire Brigade was summoned and responded very quickly and found the young lad waist deep in mud. The Royal Fire Chief had the brigade bring in the Holy Plywood Planks to span the distance to the young lad and create a work platform in order to provide leverage to free the struggling young lad from the muddy trap unharmed. Luckily the valve was closed and soon a torrential rain poured down across the land and refilled the majestic Lake of Landen overnight and saved the fish. The Kingdom rejoiced for both the safety of the young lad and refilling of the Lake of Landen...and they all lived happily ever after.
Witnessed & Written by J.Scott Keniston
Then one day, a mysterious, dark force decided the water level needed to be lowered in order for an earth moving project to take place around this Lake of Landen.
The Lord of Landen sent out his guards to open the sacred valve to lower the level of the water in the Lake of Landen. The guards opened the valve but didn't realize they had opened it too far ! The lake drained quickly, leaving nothing but a large puddle of muddy water at the base of the overflow.
All the fish were trapped in the muddy, puddle and flopped around on top of each other, gasping for air ! Giant Catfish flopped over the top of Bass, Carp, Bluegill and Crappie.
Some of the young lads from the Kingdom thought this was a perfect opportunity to catch some of the BIG Fish and set out on their quest. Once along the banks of the cherished pond, most of the young lads decided it was too muddy to try to get down to the water's edge and try to catch the fish. But one young lad persisted and began to make his way through the muck and mud.
About half way to the water's edge the young lad began to sink in the mud. He struggled and sank more from the suction of the mud. He called for his friends to come help but they couldn't. They didn't want to sink in the mud like he had done. One of the lads ran to a near by villager's house and asked if they could call for help ?
The Royal Fire Brigade was summoned and responded very quickly and found the young lad waist deep in mud. The Royal Fire Chief had the brigade bring in the Holy Plywood Planks to span the distance to the young lad and create a work platform in order to provide leverage to free the struggling young lad from the muddy trap unharmed. Luckily the valve was closed and soon a torrential rain poured down across the land and refilled the majestic Lake of Landen overnight and saved the fish. The Kingdom rejoiced for both the safety of the young lad and refilling of the Lake of Landen...and they all lived happily ever after.
Witnessed & Written by J.Scott Keniston
The Toy Story
12 inch GI-Joe type figures "The Guys" assembled with scale models of Tanks, Jeeps & Trucks
A long, long time ago... Joyce's first grandchild was born to her daughter Tina and his name is Zalen. Tina would come to visit from Colorado once or twice a year during his early years.
One visit was in the Summer and Joyce and Tina wanted to drive over to eastern Pennsylvania to visit Joyce's Son, Ben. Ben was single at the time and didn't have any kids yet and they just wanted to get together and party without the hassle of having a toddler along. So I volunteered to keep Zalen with me, here in Landen.
What more could a young boy want? He had me....of course to play with, the lake to fish in, the creek to explore and the pool for all the sun and fun he could stand. What else do you need ?
Prior to his visit, Joyce and I went to our local retailer and bought some toys that had stood the "Test of Time". I bought Lego's Hot Wheel Cars and track and I was looking for Army Men...anything from 1/72 to 1/35 scale in a bag of fifty or so. You can never have too much, you know? That's when I saw the re-introduction of HASBRO's GI-JOE 12 inch (1:6 scale) action figures. I had a couple when I was a kid back in the 60's when they first came out, along with Johnny West and Chief Cherokee and Thunderbolt, their horse. Well, anyway, I bought the toys which included a couple of the GI-Joe figures and accessories and had them there when they came to visit.
Once Joyce and Tina took off for their visit with Ben, Zalen and I decided to go fishing off the dock, down by the boat ramp. He was only three years old at the time. Prior to this, I had great success with Stef (our neighbor) when she was three and introduced to fishing using only the top section of a cane pole and a few cheap dry flies from the local store and doughballs pinched around the tiny hooks. I had the same set up for Zalen and armed with a partial loaf of bread we headed for the lake. As we drove over I told him about the success Stef had with this same type fishing rig so he was all prepared to start catching fish when we got there a few minutes later.
The fishing was another success for the cane pole, the dry flies and the three year old ! Bluegills were caught one after another that morning and he had a great time catching and releasing the scrappy little fish ! As the sun came up and it got hotter we went home and got ready for the pool. The sky was bright blue, the sun felt hot and the water was just what we needed. We were having a blast in the refreshing water of the pools. Then Zalen announced he was getting a little hungry, so we packed up our stuff and went back to the house and fixed deli sandwiches, chips and a drink. Now that lunch was over we rested in the living room and had kind of a Christmas in July when I got out the toys for him. He loved it all but was particularly fascinated with the GI-Joes. They were uniformed and geared up with their accessories and we made a camp for them out of furniture cushions and pillows on the floor. I lay back and watched him play and dreamed up adventures for "the guys" to have and go on, with his special guidance.
He loved it all and ended up falling a sleep on his own for a nice afternoon nap. I know I needed one too ! When the nap was over we went back to the pool and cooled off and then down to the creek for some exploring. Pretty soon he was ready to go back to the lake and fish some more...so we did. He began catching more Bluegills and there were some other boys there that had put their poles down and were having fun chasing geese into the water. Zalen wanted to join them in the chase. I told him to go ahead and chase them and I sat on the dock and watched. These other boys were older by a few years and the geese ran from them but when Zalen ran out there, the geese stopped, turned around and began chasing him ! He ran back into my arms and I held him as he exclaimed how they had scared him ! I told him it was alright. Nothing to worry about...if he didn't bother them, they wouldn't bother him. All was right with the world now.
Then Sean showed up at the lake for his nightly Carp and Catfishing time. He had heavy tackle and a chair to sit in while he waited for the bite. Zalen wanted to go over and watch. As luck would have it, as we walked over to the ramp where Sean was fishing, he hooked into a BIG ONE ! Zalen was excited for him and couldn't wait to see the fish. When Sean finally landed the Grass Carp and lifted it out of the water, Zalen's eyes widened and he backed away from the fish. Sean had landed a twenty plus, pound Carp and it was huge. Too huge for Zalen. We retired to the dock and continued to fish for Bluegills until it was time for dinner.
I think we had pizza and played with the GI-Joes until he fell a sleep again for the night. The next morning I made French Toast for breakfast and went back to the lake again and pretty much repeated everything we had done the day before and for the next couple of days until Mama and Gramma came home.
When the visit ended, Tina and Zalen went back to Colorado. Once home, they called to let Gramma know they were home safely but Zalen wanted to get on the phone and talk with me. Once on the phone he asked, "How are the guys?" What guys, I replied ? The GI-JOEs he continued...what are they doing. He totally thought their adventures were continuing even after he had gone home ! I sort of burst his bubble when I said they were all put away and waiting for him to come back another day and play again.
In the mean time I began making stuff to use during Zalen's next visit and took pictures of "the guys" out in the backyard on different adventures. Pretty soon I discovered a local club that dealt with the 12 inch figures and created more stuff and took more photos for him...even finding a website dedicated to this new modeling hobby for 1:6 scale action figures. And I think Zalen would check it out sometimes. Still thinking of the adventures "the guys", were having.
Experienced and Written by J.Scott Keniston
One visit was in the Summer and Joyce and Tina wanted to drive over to eastern Pennsylvania to visit Joyce's Son, Ben. Ben was single at the time and didn't have any kids yet and they just wanted to get together and party without the hassle of having a toddler along. So I volunteered to keep Zalen with me, here in Landen.
What more could a young boy want? He had me....of course to play with, the lake to fish in, the creek to explore and the pool for all the sun and fun he could stand. What else do you need ?
Prior to his visit, Joyce and I went to our local retailer and bought some toys that had stood the "Test of Time". I bought Lego's Hot Wheel Cars and track and I was looking for Army Men...anything from 1/72 to 1/35 scale in a bag of fifty or so. You can never have too much, you know? That's when I saw the re-introduction of HASBRO's GI-JOE 12 inch (1:6 scale) action figures. I had a couple when I was a kid back in the 60's when they first came out, along with Johnny West and Chief Cherokee and Thunderbolt, their horse. Well, anyway, I bought the toys which included a couple of the GI-Joe figures and accessories and had them there when they came to visit.
Once Joyce and Tina took off for their visit with Ben, Zalen and I decided to go fishing off the dock, down by the boat ramp. He was only three years old at the time. Prior to this, I had great success with Stef (our neighbor) when she was three and introduced to fishing using only the top section of a cane pole and a few cheap dry flies from the local store and doughballs pinched around the tiny hooks. I had the same set up for Zalen and armed with a partial loaf of bread we headed for the lake. As we drove over I told him about the success Stef had with this same type fishing rig so he was all prepared to start catching fish when we got there a few minutes later.
The fishing was another success for the cane pole, the dry flies and the three year old ! Bluegills were caught one after another that morning and he had a great time catching and releasing the scrappy little fish ! As the sun came up and it got hotter we went home and got ready for the pool. The sky was bright blue, the sun felt hot and the water was just what we needed. We were having a blast in the refreshing water of the pools. Then Zalen announced he was getting a little hungry, so we packed up our stuff and went back to the house and fixed deli sandwiches, chips and a drink. Now that lunch was over we rested in the living room and had kind of a Christmas in July when I got out the toys for him. He loved it all but was particularly fascinated with the GI-Joes. They were uniformed and geared up with their accessories and we made a camp for them out of furniture cushions and pillows on the floor. I lay back and watched him play and dreamed up adventures for "the guys" to have and go on, with his special guidance.
He loved it all and ended up falling a sleep on his own for a nice afternoon nap. I know I needed one too ! When the nap was over we went back to the pool and cooled off and then down to the creek for some exploring. Pretty soon he was ready to go back to the lake and fish some more...so we did. He began catching more Bluegills and there were some other boys there that had put their poles down and were having fun chasing geese into the water. Zalen wanted to join them in the chase. I told him to go ahead and chase them and I sat on the dock and watched. These other boys were older by a few years and the geese ran from them but when Zalen ran out there, the geese stopped, turned around and began chasing him ! He ran back into my arms and I held him as he exclaimed how they had scared him ! I told him it was alright. Nothing to worry about...if he didn't bother them, they wouldn't bother him. All was right with the world now.
Then Sean showed up at the lake for his nightly Carp and Catfishing time. He had heavy tackle and a chair to sit in while he waited for the bite. Zalen wanted to go over and watch. As luck would have it, as we walked over to the ramp where Sean was fishing, he hooked into a BIG ONE ! Zalen was excited for him and couldn't wait to see the fish. When Sean finally landed the Grass Carp and lifted it out of the water, Zalen's eyes widened and he backed away from the fish. Sean had landed a twenty plus, pound Carp and it was huge. Too huge for Zalen. We retired to the dock and continued to fish for Bluegills until it was time for dinner.
I think we had pizza and played with the GI-Joes until he fell a sleep again for the night. The next morning I made French Toast for breakfast and went back to the lake again and pretty much repeated everything we had done the day before and for the next couple of days until Mama and Gramma came home.
When the visit ended, Tina and Zalen went back to Colorado. Once home, they called to let Gramma know they were home safely but Zalen wanted to get on the phone and talk with me. Once on the phone he asked, "How are the guys?" What guys, I replied ? The GI-JOEs he continued...what are they doing. He totally thought their adventures were continuing even after he had gone home ! I sort of burst his bubble when I said they were all put away and waiting for him to come back another day and play again.
In the mean time I began making stuff to use during Zalen's next visit and took pictures of "the guys" out in the backyard on different adventures. Pretty soon I discovered a local club that dealt with the 12 inch figures and created more stuff and took more photos for him...even finding a website dedicated to this new modeling hobby for 1:6 scale action figures. And I think Zalen would check it out sometimes. Still thinking of the adventures "the guys", were having.
Experienced and Written by J.Scott Keniston
Practice, practice, practice...
It has been a rough summer for fishing...I think all of us that fish the lake regularly, would agree with that statement.
Since the fishing was off, I'd find myself watching the geese more and more. I started watching only the family of geese that adopted the domestic duckling and seeing how they matured and worrying about what would happen to the duck when the goslings began their flying lessons ?
Not to worry, the domestic duck has gone off with some other Mallard Ducks on the lake and will be just fine.
I noticed how the goose parents communicated with their young, and even though they didn't have their adult voices yet, the gosling were trying to imitate their parents calls. It was like a morning roll call was being preformed and each of the young responded when their name was called. Once the roll call was taken the word was given for "TAKE OFF" and the family was airborne and made short flights across the lake. Then the roll call was taken again and they would fly back across the lake. To the casual listener, this might just sound like a bunch of noisy geese that awakened you from your nightly slumber, but I'm telling you, this was fun to watch and gave me a better understanding of what was really happening.
Each morning the flights got longer and longer, now flying the length of the lake and finally making ever increasing, large circles around the lake and then doing their landings on the water. If you listen closely, you can hear the difference between the voices of the parents and the voices of their young. When they first started their landings, after a longer flight, you could see and hear one parent at the head of the "V" formation, calling out flight instructions...and then the other parent would be at the back of one of the lines of the "V" answering the call. As they got closer and closer to the surface of the lake, the calls and answers became more rapid. Finally, they'd touch down and glide to a stop and huddleup. A little swiming, prenning of feathers and eating might be in order before starting the afternoon flight.
By the Labor Day Weekend, all of the families of geese were gathering together and taking off in larger formations. The juvenile geese were getting their more mature voices (but could still be distinguished from the adults). The roll call would begin and the different, united squadrons of geese were cleared for take off. Within minutes the surface of the lake was void of any geese. Their flights were lasting for a couple hours now. Upon their return to the lake, you could see that they were breaking down into groups of twos and maybe there would be one group of three if there was an odd number of geese in the squadron. Now paired down into smaller groups, they would take turns leading the flight and calling and answering the flight and landing instructions before making their landings.
I don't know if these families of geese will stay on the lake for the winter or if they'll fly south but their parents have trained them well for the flight ahead of them.
Observed & Written by J.Scott Keniston
Since the fishing was off, I'd find myself watching the geese more and more. I started watching only the family of geese that adopted the domestic duckling and seeing how they matured and worrying about what would happen to the duck when the goslings began their flying lessons ?
Not to worry, the domestic duck has gone off with some other Mallard Ducks on the lake and will be just fine.
I noticed how the goose parents communicated with their young, and even though they didn't have their adult voices yet, the gosling were trying to imitate their parents calls. It was like a morning roll call was being preformed and each of the young responded when their name was called. Once the roll call was taken the word was given for "TAKE OFF" and the family was airborne and made short flights across the lake. Then the roll call was taken again and they would fly back across the lake. To the casual listener, this might just sound like a bunch of noisy geese that awakened you from your nightly slumber, but I'm telling you, this was fun to watch and gave me a better understanding of what was really happening.
Each morning the flights got longer and longer, now flying the length of the lake and finally making ever increasing, large circles around the lake and then doing their landings on the water. If you listen closely, you can hear the difference between the voices of the parents and the voices of their young. When they first started their landings, after a longer flight, you could see and hear one parent at the head of the "V" formation, calling out flight instructions...and then the other parent would be at the back of one of the lines of the "V" answering the call. As they got closer and closer to the surface of the lake, the calls and answers became more rapid. Finally, they'd touch down and glide to a stop and huddleup. A little swiming, prenning of feathers and eating might be in order before starting the afternoon flight.
By the Labor Day Weekend, all of the families of geese were gathering together and taking off in larger formations. The juvenile geese were getting their more mature voices (but could still be distinguished from the adults). The roll call would begin and the different, united squadrons of geese were cleared for take off. Within minutes the surface of the lake was void of any geese. Their flights were lasting for a couple hours now. Upon their return to the lake, you could see that they were breaking down into groups of twos and maybe there would be one group of three if there was an odd number of geese in the squadron. Now paired down into smaller groups, they would take turns leading the flight and calling and answering the flight and landing instructions before making their landings.
I don't know if these families of geese will stay on the lake for the winter or if they'll fly south but their parents have trained them well for the flight ahead of them.
Observed & Written by J.Scott Keniston
Rowlands' Experience
A lot of years ago, while fishing on Landen Lake, I hooked into a large fish, while fishing from my kayak. As I was being pulled across the water by this whale, I could see a young boy fishing off a small dock, behind a group of houses. He looked up and saw me and saw the boat being pulled as I looked his way and smiled. The boy asked if I needed help? I asked how he thought he could help me from the shore? He laughed as he responded that he didn't know? He asked me if I had a net? "No", I replied, do you? He said his neighbor had one in his boat and that he would get it and if I could direct the fish close to their dock, maybe he could net it for me. I yelled back and said I'd see what I could do but for now the thing didn't feel like it was getting tired.
Finally, the fish began to slow down and I started to gain some line, back on my reel. It kept swimming but I managed to turn it around and head it back up the lake and was guiding it over to the dock where the kid waited for me. I did manage to recover enough line and bring the beast to the surface once, long enough to identify it. It was a huge grass carp. It looked to be about three feet long. I managed to get the fish over near the dock and the boy netted it for me, as promised. I got my lure back, we looked at the fish and admired it's size and strength and then released it.
The boy and I talked about fishing… I looked through his tackle box and examined his rod and reel. He asked me how I liked fishing from a boat? I said I liked it a lot. He said he had only fished from land or docks at best. We finally introduced ourselves to each other. His name was Rowland. A fair haired boy that looked to be about thirteen or fourteen years old. It was Thursday afternoon. I asked him if he wanted to go fishing with me from a boat? I told him I also had a two man kayak and if he wanted to, we could go fishing, Saturday morning. He thought it was a great idea but warned me that he ha to work at noon at the local grocery store. He was a bag boy there. We shook hands and agreed to meet on his dock at 5:00 AM. Saturday morning.
Saturday came pretty quickly. I slid the kayak into the water and paddled over to Rowland's dock. He was there and ready. His parents came out to meet me and make sure their son wasn't just making up this great story. He got into the kayak and situated his tackle box and rod and we pushed off and headed for a couple good points I liked to fish. I wanted to take Rowland to places that would increase his odds of catching fish. After all, this was his first time fishing from a boat...even if it was a kayak.
On the way over to one of the points, I gave him a selection of lures and plastic worms and crawdads to add to his tackle box. Just like Kenny had done for me…so many years ago. He was thrilled with the present and put everything into slots, in the trays of his tackle box.
We got close to the first point and I showed him how to tie a better knot and wanted to see him cast. I had suggested using a top water lure and told him how to use it. He made a couple good casts and we eased closer to the point. I held the kayak in position while he casted. He made a few casts along the rocky shoreline that produced nothing but all of a sudden a bass attacked the plug but missed. We slid down the shoreline a bit and Rowland continued casting. Finally he started catching. A couple of largemouth bass that were twelve and fourteen inches long were enough to get him excited. Then he caught a couple of nice size crappie and a bluegill that was bigger than my hand.
We continued fishing. Hitting the points and picking up fish on every one. The fish were getting bigger. He had picked up a two pound bass and a ten pound carp. This kid was excited. I just smiled, thinking of how much fun he was having.
We rounded a little point and a large honeysuckle bush hung over the water. I asked him if he thought he could throw the lure just under the edge of the bush? He said he'd try. And with that he sent the lure towards the target. Perfect cast! He let it sit a few moments and gave the rod a little twitch. Swooch! A bigger bass had just grabbed the floating minnow and was taking off to deeper water. Rowland set the hook and hung on. It was a great fight and he took his time reeling the bass in. It was a beauty. A nice, four pound, largemouth bass. Needless to say, Rowland was excited but our time grew short and we had to end our fishing trip. He had to get ready for work. I dropped him off on his dock and we parted ways.
Later that afternoon, Joyce and I had to go to the grocery store to pickup a few things. As we walked in the door, we heard this voice yell out across the store. " He’s here… he'll tell you!" It was Rowland, yelling across the store to the Produce Manager. Rowland came over to tell us that his co-workers didn't believe his fish story from that morning. Meanwhile, the manager walked over, saying how Rowland was telling them about huge carp, big bass, crappie and bluegills he had caught that morning. I nodded my head and verified his story. The manager was in shock. Rowland just stood there with us, smiling. What a great morning we shared ! Rowland is married now and has children of his own. His parents have passed now and the house is being sold but I still see him from time to time.
We'll meet again someday, on the water maybe and tell a few good stories.
Written by J.Scott Keniston
Finally, the fish began to slow down and I started to gain some line, back on my reel. It kept swimming but I managed to turn it around and head it back up the lake and was guiding it over to the dock where the kid waited for me. I did manage to recover enough line and bring the beast to the surface once, long enough to identify it. It was a huge grass carp. It looked to be about three feet long. I managed to get the fish over near the dock and the boy netted it for me, as promised. I got my lure back, we looked at the fish and admired it's size and strength and then released it.
The boy and I talked about fishing… I looked through his tackle box and examined his rod and reel. He asked me how I liked fishing from a boat? I said I liked it a lot. He said he had only fished from land or docks at best. We finally introduced ourselves to each other. His name was Rowland. A fair haired boy that looked to be about thirteen or fourteen years old. It was Thursday afternoon. I asked him if he wanted to go fishing with me from a boat? I told him I also had a two man kayak and if he wanted to, we could go fishing, Saturday morning. He thought it was a great idea but warned me that he ha to work at noon at the local grocery store. He was a bag boy there. We shook hands and agreed to meet on his dock at 5:00 AM. Saturday morning.
Saturday came pretty quickly. I slid the kayak into the water and paddled over to Rowland's dock. He was there and ready. His parents came out to meet me and make sure their son wasn't just making up this great story. He got into the kayak and situated his tackle box and rod and we pushed off and headed for a couple good points I liked to fish. I wanted to take Rowland to places that would increase his odds of catching fish. After all, this was his first time fishing from a boat...even if it was a kayak.
On the way over to one of the points, I gave him a selection of lures and plastic worms and crawdads to add to his tackle box. Just like Kenny had done for me…so many years ago. He was thrilled with the present and put everything into slots, in the trays of his tackle box.
We got close to the first point and I showed him how to tie a better knot and wanted to see him cast. I had suggested using a top water lure and told him how to use it. He made a couple good casts and we eased closer to the point. I held the kayak in position while he casted. He made a few casts along the rocky shoreline that produced nothing but all of a sudden a bass attacked the plug but missed. We slid down the shoreline a bit and Rowland continued casting. Finally he started catching. A couple of largemouth bass that were twelve and fourteen inches long were enough to get him excited. Then he caught a couple of nice size crappie and a bluegill that was bigger than my hand.
We continued fishing. Hitting the points and picking up fish on every one. The fish were getting bigger. He had picked up a two pound bass and a ten pound carp. This kid was excited. I just smiled, thinking of how much fun he was having.
We rounded a little point and a large honeysuckle bush hung over the water. I asked him if he thought he could throw the lure just under the edge of the bush? He said he'd try. And with that he sent the lure towards the target. Perfect cast! He let it sit a few moments and gave the rod a little twitch. Swooch! A bigger bass had just grabbed the floating minnow and was taking off to deeper water. Rowland set the hook and hung on. It was a great fight and he took his time reeling the bass in. It was a beauty. A nice, four pound, largemouth bass. Needless to say, Rowland was excited but our time grew short and we had to end our fishing trip. He had to get ready for work. I dropped him off on his dock and we parted ways.
Later that afternoon, Joyce and I had to go to the grocery store to pickup a few things. As we walked in the door, we heard this voice yell out across the store. " He’s here… he'll tell you!" It was Rowland, yelling across the store to the Produce Manager. Rowland came over to tell us that his co-workers didn't believe his fish story from that morning. Meanwhile, the manager walked over, saying how Rowland was telling them about huge carp, big bass, crappie and bluegills he had caught that morning. I nodded my head and verified his story. The manager was in shock. Rowland just stood there with us, smiling. What a great morning we shared ! Rowland is married now and has children of his own. His parents have passed now and the house is being sold but I still see him from time to time.
We'll meet again someday, on the water maybe and tell a few good stories.
Written by J.Scott Keniston
Canadian Air Traffic Control
Canadian Geese coming in for a landing
While fishing at the lake, this past December, I noticed there were only five Canadian Geese on the water when I arrived. Since the fish weren't cooperating, I paid closer attention to the geese. Out of the five, there was only one that did all the honking. It honked and honked and honked and then honked somemore ! All of a sudden I could hear another honk...way off in the distance. Soon, another small flock of six geese were spotted, coming in low on the horizon, out of the west, over the Columbia Road Bridge. I noticed there was only one goose in the flock flying, honking to the one goose on the water. It was like landing instructions. As the flock got closer the honking between the lead bird in the air and the honker on the water became more rapid. They could have landed anywhere on the seventy acres of open water but they landed right next to the tiny raft of geese already on the water, down by the Island Rec Tennis Courts. Once they landed, the new arrivals paddled their way down towards the east end of the lake, towards the boat ramp. The original honker on the water continued honking. Then another flock of twelve, was heard in the distance...coming out of the northwest, over Sailboat Pointe. A larger flock this time but still, only one goose from the flock in the air, communicating to the one on the water. Again, this flock landed next to the raft of geese already on the water. They soon split off and paddled towards the north shore, near Chesnut Landing. Meanwhile, no other goose on the water made a sound, except the original honker. Flock after flock of geese came to call of this single goose. Acting as the "Air Traffic Controller" for Canadian Geese, this single goose called in over 150 geese during the hour I spent fishing...well, sitting and watching from my kayak. My eyes searched the sky to see if I could spot other flocks of geese preparing to land at the lake. I could never see them flying overhead, I only saw them after hearing their honking and watching them come in for a landing...low on the horizon. Pretty amazing...the mysteries of nature ! To us one honk sounds pretty much like all the other honks we hear from geese. One honk may signal good feeding, another maybe danger, then there are the ones for flight instructions. I wonder how far off one flock can hear the honking of another goose ? Are they like whales, singing in the oceans ? I was very impressed by their control and order.
Observed & written by J.Scott Keniston
Observed & written by J.Scott Keniston
How to play Bass & Minnow
In my day, we played a game at our local pool called Bass & Minnow. You had to be a strong swimmer, have good lung capacity and physically strong. I grew up on the west side of town in Bridgetown, Ohio, in a neighborhood much like Woodfield, complete with a neighborhood Olympic Pool, medium size pool and a baby pool.
The rules for the game went like this. You could be any age, as long as you could swim the width of the pool under water. The deeper you (The Minnow)swam the less likely you were of getting caught. The stronger you were meant you could fight off your would-be attacker (The Bass) and get away till the next round.
If you came up for air at anytime, for any reason, before touching the opposite wall, you were automatically a Bass now. But here is how it starts.
Somehow, one person is picked to be the Bass. The Bass stands on one side of the pool while all the Minnows stand on the other side. The Bass turns around and counts to three and at three all the Minnows have to be in the water and swimming to the other side. (if not in the water, they automatically become Bass). Once the Bass counts to three, that person turns around and dives into the water and has to catch and bring to the surface, the Minnow. Not just tag but bring to the surface. This is where lung capacity and strength come into play and being able to hold your breath and fight off the Bass underwater.
Anyone caught and brought to the surface becomes a Bass and now they can gang up on Minnows and bring them to the surface...or not! The first person caught becomes the bass for the next game. As more and more Minnows are caught, the Last one caught gets the recognition of being the strongest and earns those bragging rights.
It's an easy game, if you have the qualifications. We would play this for hours, year after year. each season. We couldn't wait for the pool to open and were always sad when the pool closed for the season and we had to go back to school. I am still this way.
I sit at the pool and watch some kids play Alligator, Fish out of Water or Marco Polo. They seem lame and there is a lot of cheating going on and they seem to tire of it pretty quickly. Every now and then I hear some kids say they want to play Shark & Minnow and I watch as the kids swim across the surface and get tagged pretty easly by the Shark. It's similar but not the same.
Over the past twenty five years I have taught many generations how to play Bass & Minnow but they are getting older and lets face it, their interests seem to turn towards dating or learning how to drive or whatever and they don't play anymore. Recently I asked one of my pupils if she remembered playing and she did remember but admitted she didn't have the lung capacity anymore...but she remembered !
Don't ever forget how to play, in water or out...it keeps you young.
Written by j.Scott Keniston
The rules for the game went like this. You could be any age, as long as you could swim the width of the pool under water. The deeper you (The Minnow)swam the less likely you were of getting caught. The stronger you were meant you could fight off your would-be attacker (The Bass) and get away till the next round.
If you came up for air at anytime, for any reason, before touching the opposite wall, you were automatically a Bass now. But here is how it starts.
Somehow, one person is picked to be the Bass. The Bass stands on one side of the pool while all the Minnows stand on the other side. The Bass turns around and counts to three and at three all the Minnows have to be in the water and swimming to the other side. (if not in the water, they automatically become Bass). Once the Bass counts to three, that person turns around and dives into the water and has to catch and bring to the surface, the Minnow. Not just tag but bring to the surface. This is where lung capacity and strength come into play and being able to hold your breath and fight off the Bass underwater.
Anyone caught and brought to the surface becomes a Bass and now they can gang up on Minnows and bring them to the surface...or not! The first person caught becomes the bass for the next game. As more and more Minnows are caught, the Last one caught gets the recognition of being the strongest and earns those bragging rights.
It's an easy game, if you have the qualifications. We would play this for hours, year after year. each season. We couldn't wait for the pool to open and were always sad when the pool closed for the season and we had to go back to school. I am still this way.
I sit at the pool and watch some kids play Alligator, Fish out of Water or Marco Polo. They seem lame and there is a lot of cheating going on and they seem to tire of it pretty quickly. Every now and then I hear some kids say they want to play Shark & Minnow and I watch as the kids swim across the surface and get tagged pretty easly by the Shark. It's similar but not the same.
Over the past twenty five years I have taught many generations how to play Bass & Minnow but they are getting older and lets face it, their interests seem to turn towards dating or learning how to drive or whatever and they don't play anymore. Recently I asked one of my pupils if she remembered playing and she did remember but admitted she didn't have the lung capacity anymore...but she remembered !
Don't ever forget how to play, in water or out...it keeps you young.
Written by j.Scott Keniston
Sir...you can't swim in the lake !
Me & my PokeBoat
Many years ago, I too flipped my kayak in Landen Lake, right off the boat dock. I wasn’t as kayak savy back in those days. I was using the boat dock, down by the Landen Lake boat ramp. I put the kayak in the water, loaded my tackle box and fishing poles in the boat and then began to lower myself off the dock, into the “yak”. As I put one foot into the kayak, I accidently shifted all my weight( and that’s a lot of weight) to the wrong side. Before I could correct my mistake, the kayak rolled over, sank and dumped me and my gear into the lake. The water was about 5 feet deep, right off the dock back then with a soft silty bottom.
Just as my head came up out of the water, a Deerfield Sheriff just happened to be driving by. He pulled into the ramp area, got out of his cruiser and said, “Sir, you’re not allowed to swim in Landen Lake”. I explained to him that I had just fallen out of my kayak and that it was on the bottom of the lake. He walked out on the dock and asked if he could be of some assistance ? I handed him the rope I had tied to the nose of my kayak and asked if he could pull it up, onto the dock as I turned it over to drain the water out as I tried to lift it onto the dock? He agreed and after a few attempts of me trying to lift the heavy, water laden, kayak, up... while sinking into the silt and totally submerging myself in the lake again, it was soon safely on the dock.
The officer turned and went back to his car and glanced back at me…still in the water. “Sir, you have to get out of the lake !” I told him my glasses, tackle box and fishing poles were still on the bottom of the lake and I wasn’t coming out until I had found everything. I guess he understood my problem, got in his car and drove off, leaving me to find my tackle on the bottom of the lake. I did finally find everything and learned a couple of important lessons that day. #1, being, never put your stuff in the boat until you are already in and settled. #2, don’t shift your weight in a kayak as you’re getting in.
My two man kayak finally wore out, after 30 plus years of service and we got Joyce a kayak of her own.
It was St. Patricks' Day in 2011, the sun was bright and the sky was blue and we were putting in the lake for her maiden voyage in the new kayak. We were launching from the dock at the Island Rec Clubhouse. The kayak was in the water and Joyce knelt down on the dock and put her feet in the bottom of the boat...still holding on to the dock. The kayak slid away from the dock and Joyces' body stretched out over the water from the kayak to the dock. It looked like some scene you'd see in and old I Love Lucy, episode. Her body bowed between the kayak and the dock but she kept holding tight ! I told her the water was only a few feet deep, just off the dock and she could let go of the kayak and just stand up in the water and I'd help her out. Once in the water, she showed no sign of panic. I asked her how the water felt and she said, surprisingly, it wasn't that cold. I pulled her out and unphased by the incident, she insisted on continuing on with our planned afternoon. Without another word, she got into the kayak and proceeded to enjoy the day ! I asked her what she had learned from her experience ? She thought I was being sarcastic ! I assured her I wasn't and asked again what she had learned from this experience ? She replied that she needed to use her body strength to keep the kayak against the dock as she lowered herself into it....Lesson Learned ! We'll see you on the water !!!
Written by J.Scott Keniston
Just as my head came up out of the water, a Deerfield Sheriff just happened to be driving by. He pulled into the ramp area, got out of his cruiser and said, “Sir, you’re not allowed to swim in Landen Lake”. I explained to him that I had just fallen out of my kayak and that it was on the bottom of the lake. He walked out on the dock and asked if he could be of some assistance ? I handed him the rope I had tied to the nose of my kayak and asked if he could pull it up, onto the dock as I turned it over to drain the water out as I tried to lift it onto the dock? He agreed and after a few attempts of me trying to lift the heavy, water laden, kayak, up... while sinking into the silt and totally submerging myself in the lake again, it was soon safely on the dock.
The officer turned and went back to his car and glanced back at me…still in the water. “Sir, you have to get out of the lake !” I told him my glasses, tackle box and fishing poles were still on the bottom of the lake and I wasn’t coming out until I had found everything. I guess he understood my problem, got in his car and drove off, leaving me to find my tackle on the bottom of the lake. I did finally find everything and learned a couple of important lessons that day. #1, being, never put your stuff in the boat until you are already in and settled. #2, don’t shift your weight in a kayak as you’re getting in.
My two man kayak finally wore out, after 30 plus years of service and we got Joyce a kayak of her own.
It was St. Patricks' Day in 2011, the sun was bright and the sky was blue and we were putting in the lake for her maiden voyage in the new kayak. We were launching from the dock at the Island Rec Clubhouse. The kayak was in the water and Joyce knelt down on the dock and put her feet in the bottom of the boat...still holding on to the dock. The kayak slid away from the dock and Joyces' body stretched out over the water from the kayak to the dock. It looked like some scene you'd see in and old I Love Lucy, episode. Her body bowed between the kayak and the dock but she kept holding tight ! I told her the water was only a few feet deep, just off the dock and she could let go of the kayak and just stand up in the water and I'd help her out. Once in the water, she showed no sign of panic. I asked her how the water felt and she said, surprisingly, it wasn't that cold. I pulled her out and unphased by the incident, she insisted on continuing on with our planned afternoon. Without another word, she got into the kayak and proceeded to enjoy the day ! I asked her what she had learned from her experience ? She thought I was being sarcastic ! I assured her I wasn't and asked again what she had learned from this experience ? She replied that she needed to use her body strength to keep the kayak against the dock as she lowered herself into it....Lesson Learned ! We'll see you on the water !!!
Written by J.Scott Keniston
When all else fails...discipline
Canadian Goose
Joyce and I live in Landen. It's an area that still has a lot of standing hardwood trees, a creek, ponds, a lake and a river nearby. We see countless varieties of birds and waterfowl either in our backyard or around our neighborhood at or near the water features. I’ll admit, when it comes to nature and wildlife, I will take a little time to watch an event unfold.
As I was driving home from work one late spring evening and had stopped at a traffic signal. I noticed a family of Canadian Geese walking up a small hill in front of an industrial complex that had a pond and fountain at its entrance.
I can only assume the mother goose was leading the brood of goslings while the father gander was bringing up the rear. Everything was going fine. The offspring where following their mother perfectly…. Until junior (the last in the string of offspring), began to wander off to the east. Dear old dad put his head down and out stretched his neck and said a few words to the juvenile and junior quickly got back into line. A little while later junior started wandering off on his own again. Dad got up behind him again and warned him to get back in line and junior hurried back to the column.
Before they reached the top of the hill, junior was wandering again. Dad raced up behind him, stood high in the air and with his wings spread to their fullest extent and slapped them together, catching junior between them. This surprised junior as he jumped off the ground and ran past his siblings to his mothers’ side, just as they finally reached the fountain.
I laughed out loud as I sat at the traffic light. I had remembered my Father, when I was a kid doing something wrong. My Father would say,” boy, I’ve told you twice. The next time, you’ll wish you had listened.”
So I looked at these geese like they were a typical, normal family. Kids acting like kids and dad, always there to administer the discipline when needed and mom there to comfort them when it was all over.
Funny how nature mimics life...or is it the other way around ?
Written by J.Scott Keniston
As I was driving home from work one late spring evening and had stopped at a traffic signal. I noticed a family of Canadian Geese walking up a small hill in front of an industrial complex that had a pond and fountain at its entrance.
I can only assume the mother goose was leading the brood of goslings while the father gander was bringing up the rear. Everything was going fine. The offspring where following their mother perfectly…. Until junior (the last in the string of offspring), began to wander off to the east. Dear old dad put his head down and out stretched his neck and said a few words to the juvenile and junior quickly got back into line. A little while later junior started wandering off on his own again. Dad got up behind him again and warned him to get back in line and junior hurried back to the column.
Before they reached the top of the hill, junior was wandering again. Dad raced up behind him, stood high in the air and with his wings spread to their fullest extent and slapped them together, catching junior between them. This surprised junior as he jumped off the ground and ran past his siblings to his mothers’ side, just as they finally reached the fountain.
I laughed out loud as I sat at the traffic light. I had remembered my Father, when I was a kid doing something wrong. My Father would say,” boy, I’ve told you twice. The next time, you’ll wish you had listened.”
So I looked at these geese like they were a typical, normal family. Kids acting like kids and dad, always there to administer the discipline when needed and mom there to comfort them when it was all over.
Funny how nature mimics life...or is it the other way around ?
Written by J.Scott Keniston
The Gift
David is a long time Landen resident, fly fisherman and generally an all round great guy, or at least in my opinion ! Those of you who also know David would probably agree. One late summer afternoon, David was looking out his window and watching a very young boy, fly fishing off the bridge, that leads to the Island Club House. David was very impressed with the boy's ability to cast so well...in David's words, Prefect !! He noticed the rod the boy was using looked a bit big for him and he decided to get one of his rods out and join the boy. David selected a seven and a half foot, five weight rod and matched it with a reel that was already loaded with the proper backing, floating, five weight line and leader. To top off the rig, he selected a number ten fly, that resembled a tiny white moth and tied it to the tippet, and headed for the door.
Once he got to the bridge, he introduced himself to the boy and complimented him on his casting skills. The boy thanked David and they continued to talk. He found out that the boy was nine years old and on vacation, staying with his aunt, that lived here in Landen. He also found out that the boy had gotten the rod and reel combo from a local retailer and watched educational fly fishing videos to teach himself how to tie the appropriate knots needed and to cast the line as well as he was casting. David was totally impressed by the boy. He asked him what size rod he was using. The boy told him it was a nine foot, 6 weight rod. David thought it was a bit too much for this nine year old boy and offered to let him try his rod and see how he liked using it ? The boy jumped at the offer and really liked the length and weight of the rig.
He casted it over and over, catching bluegills on the little white fly, David had tied on. David told him he could have the rod and reel as a gift. The boy tried to protest but David wasn't having any it. He told the boy it was a gift and he should just accept it and use it and just have fun. The boy thanked him for such a generous gift ! David had to get back to the house and left the boy on the bridge. Later that afternoon, there was a knock at David's door and it was the boy and his aunt. She knew David and just wanted to also thank David for the gift...and how happy it had made her nephew ! This would probably be a summer the boy wouldn't soon forget.
A couple days later, the boy was back on the bridge with his new rod and reel, casting for bluegills and having the time of his life. Catching one after another, removing the hook and releasing the fish back into the lake. Then, as another scrappy little bluegill took the tiny white, moth-like fly and began to put up a good fight, a large bass came out of the deeper waters and swallowed the bluegill, hook, line and sinker, sort of speak ! The fight was on ! The bass put up a heck of a fight but the lighter, whippy fly rod finally wore the big bass out and the boy was able to lip this MONSTER BASS !!! He took it to his aunt's house and had her take a quick picture of it and then ran back to the pond and released it. A bit later on, the boy and his aunt made a copy of the photo and took it over to show to David. David saw the picture and the boy was telling the story of the great fight the bass had put up. He also said he thought the fish probably weighed four pounds. David looked at the picture and being a good judge of fish weights, he guesstimated that it was probably more like six pounds or so ! The boy beamed and his aunt was even excited about the catch and the validation of the size of the bass, by this seasoned veteran of the fly fishing hobby.
A while later, the boys family returned and ended up going over to meet David and to also thank him for his generosity and bringing so much happiness to their son's summer vacation. They invited David to come over to their house that evening for dinner and I can only imagine that probably a few fish stories were told that evening. I know David and the boy will remember this time, for a long time to come.
Fishermen aren't strangers to each other when they're around water. They talk, share strategies and maybe a few stories and if youre not careful, you might become friends.
Told by David & Written by J.Scott Keniston
Once he got to the bridge, he introduced himself to the boy and complimented him on his casting skills. The boy thanked David and they continued to talk. He found out that the boy was nine years old and on vacation, staying with his aunt, that lived here in Landen. He also found out that the boy had gotten the rod and reel combo from a local retailer and watched educational fly fishing videos to teach himself how to tie the appropriate knots needed and to cast the line as well as he was casting. David was totally impressed by the boy. He asked him what size rod he was using. The boy told him it was a nine foot, 6 weight rod. David thought it was a bit too much for this nine year old boy and offered to let him try his rod and see how he liked using it ? The boy jumped at the offer and really liked the length and weight of the rig.
He casted it over and over, catching bluegills on the little white fly, David had tied on. David told him he could have the rod and reel as a gift. The boy tried to protest but David wasn't having any it. He told the boy it was a gift and he should just accept it and use it and just have fun. The boy thanked him for such a generous gift ! David had to get back to the house and left the boy on the bridge. Later that afternoon, there was a knock at David's door and it was the boy and his aunt. She knew David and just wanted to also thank David for the gift...and how happy it had made her nephew ! This would probably be a summer the boy wouldn't soon forget.
A couple days later, the boy was back on the bridge with his new rod and reel, casting for bluegills and having the time of his life. Catching one after another, removing the hook and releasing the fish back into the lake. Then, as another scrappy little bluegill took the tiny white, moth-like fly and began to put up a good fight, a large bass came out of the deeper waters and swallowed the bluegill, hook, line and sinker, sort of speak ! The fight was on ! The bass put up a heck of a fight but the lighter, whippy fly rod finally wore the big bass out and the boy was able to lip this MONSTER BASS !!! He took it to his aunt's house and had her take a quick picture of it and then ran back to the pond and released it. A bit later on, the boy and his aunt made a copy of the photo and took it over to show to David. David saw the picture and the boy was telling the story of the great fight the bass had put up. He also said he thought the fish probably weighed four pounds. David looked at the picture and being a good judge of fish weights, he guesstimated that it was probably more like six pounds or so ! The boy beamed and his aunt was even excited about the catch and the validation of the size of the bass, by this seasoned veteran of the fly fishing hobby.
A while later, the boys family returned and ended up going over to meet David and to also thank him for his generosity and bringing so much happiness to their son's summer vacation. They invited David to come over to their house that evening for dinner and I can only imagine that probably a few fish stories were told that evening. I know David and the boy will remember this time, for a long time to come.
Fishermen aren't strangers to each other when they're around water. They talk, share strategies and maybe a few stories and if youre not careful, you might become friends.
Told by David & Written by J.Scott Keniston
Are We Schooling Fish !
I've been fishing Landen Lake for twenty four years now. I've seen the lake accidentally drained and all the fish trapped in a big puddle, down by the spillway, flopping all over each other. I've seen it covered in vegetation to the point it looked more like a huge putting green, than a body of water. Then there was the draining and dredging and from what I heard, a huge fish kill happened during this time in the life of the lake. Then there were other lowerings of the lake for different projects since then, up to present day. Each time the lake is messed with, it screws up what use to be habitat for all the species of fish in the lake. They move to different spots and we as anglers, have been having harder and harder times finding them and getting them to take whatever our offerings might be. This is probably true to a point but because we fish the same lake, using the same lures and releasing the fish back into the lake... are they educating the others, from their experiences ? You laugh ! I'm thinking that with the number of lures lost in the lake, or possibly still hooked in the fishes mouth from snapped lines, snagged in rocks and in submerged tree limbs, that these become educational tools for classrooms for schools of fish of all species.
In the past, we've caught lots of fish of all different sizes and types and for the most part, thrown them back ! These fish have been caught once in their lifetime and maybe never caught again because they are more educated now. How many times have these fish seen red, Culprit Worms, Watermelon or Pumpkinseed colored Senko Worms, jigs, crankbaits and spinnerbaits of all different sizes, shapes and colors ? I know I'm guilty of using the same three types of lures, for the most part. I can't tell you how many fish I've caught and released on my, "Go To Lures", and I keep using them. I think when I do catch' fish with them, these are the younger generation, just starting to grow up, that haven't been hooked before. The older generations die off and the younger ones take over the classes, using their knowledge and experience.
What about our modes of fishing ? Maybe you're a bank fisherman...clomping around the bank, standing there casting repeatedly. They not only can feel your vibration, they can see you too ! Fish probably can see you, long before you see them. I appear as a predator, much like a heron, fishing from the shoreline...but you can't stand as still as a heron. Now, what if you use a bass boat or a kayak, outfitted with all the latest in fishing electronics ? Fish Finders...Depth Finders... do you think they have gotten use to the sonar pings or do they associate it with predators ?
This past summer, I used a lure, I hadn't used in years and had great success with it...for one or two days. Then I just picture the fish watching as it goes by and the teacher, explaining to the rest of the school, to avoid this at all cost. Does this mean we have to buy more and more lures, to keep the fish population interested ? Or maybe go thru our own tackle boxes and pull out something you bought years ago that either didn't work for you at the time or the fish quit hitting on it before you could lose it in the lake. On the one hand, you have a good reason to ask for gift cards from your favorite fishing tackle retailer this coming Christmas and go thru your tackle and see if there's something there that deserves a second or third chance in the next fishing season.
Here's another example of fish teaching the others. I was out fishing one morning off Sailboat Pointe, using a #7 Shad Rap when I caught a nice little bass that might have been close to two pounds. I don't know for sure because as the fish tired out and came up next to the kayak and I was reaching over to lip it, when it surged one more time, bashing the side of it's head and mouth against the kayak and dislodging the lure and getting off ! Well, I didn't mind...at least I got to see the fish and it looked healthy. I repositioned the kayak and made another couple of casts around the same point and hooked up with another bass. This one felt heavier than the first one. I took my time reeling it in and as I reached out to lip it...it surged and bashed the side of it's head into the side of the kayak and got off the hook ! I felt like I had one of those looks on my face like Willie Coyote would have after being out foxed by the Roadrunner. I retied my lure and repositioned the kayak one more time and casted back over the same point again. All of a sudden it felt like I had snagged a rock but then I saw my line move and I set the hook harder and the fight was on ! This was a huge bass ! It stayed down till the end and when it came up, it tried to jump but couldn't get it's weight out of the water. I reached over to lip it and...it surged against the side of the kayak and got off the hook ! You think this is a co-winky-dink ? I don't think so. I think the first one was down there telling the others of this SURE FIRE way to get off the hook. Just say'n !!!
Written by J.Scott Keniston
In the past, we've caught lots of fish of all different sizes and types and for the most part, thrown them back ! These fish have been caught once in their lifetime and maybe never caught again because they are more educated now. How many times have these fish seen red, Culprit Worms, Watermelon or Pumpkinseed colored Senko Worms, jigs, crankbaits and spinnerbaits of all different sizes, shapes and colors ? I know I'm guilty of using the same three types of lures, for the most part. I can't tell you how many fish I've caught and released on my, "Go To Lures", and I keep using them. I think when I do catch' fish with them, these are the younger generation, just starting to grow up, that haven't been hooked before. The older generations die off and the younger ones take over the classes, using their knowledge and experience.
What about our modes of fishing ? Maybe you're a bank fisherman...clomping around the bank, standing there casting repeatedly. They not only can feel your vibration, they can see you too ! Fish probably can see you, long before you see them. I appear as a predator, much like a heron, fishing from the shoreline...but you can't stand as still as a heron. Now, what if you use a bass boat or a kayak, outfitted with all the latest in fishing electronics ? Fish Finders...Depth Finders... do you think they have gotten use to the sonar pings or do they associate it with predators ?
This past summer, I used a lure, I hadn't used in years and had great success with it...for one or two days. Then I just picture the fish watching as it goes by and the teacher, explaining to the rest of the school, to avoid this at all cost. Does this mean we have to buy more and more lures, to keep the fish population interested ? Or maybe go thru our own tackle boxes and pull out something you bought years ago that either didn't work for you at the time or the fish quit hitting on it before you could lose it in the lake. On the one hand, you have a good reason to ask for gift cards from your favorite fishing tackle retailer this coming Christmas and go thru your tackle and see if there's something there that deserves a second or third chance in the next fishing season.
Here's another example of fish teaching the others. I was out fishing one morning off Sailboat Pointe, using a #7 Shad Rap when I caught a nice little bass that might have been close to two pounds. I don't know for sure because as the fish tired out and came up next to the kayak and I was reaching over to lip it, when it surged one more time, bashing the side of it's head and mouth against the kayak and dislodging the lure and getting off ! Well, I didn't mind...at least I got to see the fish and it looked healthy. I repositioned the kayak and made another couple of casts around the same point and hooked up with another bass. This one felt heavier than the first one. I took my time reeling it in and as I reached out to lip it...it surged and bashed the side of it's head into the side of the kayak and got off the hook ! I felt like I had one of those looks on my face like Willie Coyote would have after being out foxed by the Roadrunner. I retied my lure and repositioned the kayak one more time and casted back over the same point again. All of a sudden it felt like I had snagged a rock but then I saw my line move and I set the hook harder and the fight was on ! This was a huge bass ! It stayed down till the end and when it came up, it tried to jump but couldn't get it's weight out of the water. I reached over to lip it and...it surged against the side of the kayak and got off the hook ! You think this is a co-winky-dink ? I don't think so. I think the first one was down there telling the others of this SURE FIRE way to get off the hook. Just say'n !!!
Written by J.Scott Keniston
BEST MORNING EVER !!!!
This little story started out as a Fishing Report for the website in early, June of 2014, during the bluegill spawn but I decided to add it as one of my Landen Stories.
There I was... it was almost 6:30 AM, the full moon was setting, as the sun was rising in a crystal clear, blue sky, It was a cool morning with mist hanging eerily on the surface of the ponds and lake as I pulled my little van into the Island Clubhouse parking area.
I had the kayak strapped to the top of the van but decided to grab my heavier spinning rod and tied on a frog colored Rebel Pop R, and a boat cushion and then headed over to the bench, under the Shingle Oak Tree, at the Upper Farm Pond and made a cast along the bank, in front of the cattails. I let the lure sit until I couldn't stand it anymore and then I let it sit a little bit more. I finally twitched my rod tip, causing the Pop R to make a BLOOPING and PLOPPING sound as it splashed across the surface of the pond. Three more twitches and then, it almost looked like a bluegill came up and kissed the lure.
The lure disappeared beneath the water's surface. I set the hook (thinking this little bluegill would be sailing overhead in a second) only to be surprised that it was actually a bass on the other end. I set the hook again...to be sure and the fight was on ! Pulling towards the deeper water, this bass was putting up a pretty good fight. I finally got the fish up to where I could see...THEM ??
Yes, it turns out it was two bass, hooked on one lure ! One had a mouth full of tail hook and the other had it mouth full of the belly hook ! I had a time getting them up close enough to grab one and get them off the hooks and released... but I managed ! I had never caught two fish on one lure before ! They both weighed a little over two pounds.
After releasing them...with a huge smile on my face, I thought to myself, if these were the only fish I caught all morning, I was okay with that. They had made my morning already... on the first cast. I tried to relax and picked the other bank for my next cast. The Pop R sailed down parallel with the shoreline and PLOPPED into the water with a SPLASH ! Again, I let it sit for a little while before making my first twitch of the rod tip. About half way back, on the retrieve, a nice bass leaped out of the water, attacking my lure ! I had to wait to make sure it had gotten the lure before setting my hook for the second time this morning. Another bass in the two pound range, caught and released. Man, I was having a great morning and I'd only been fishing for maybe ten or fifteen minutes !
Once that bass was released, I hooked my lure to an eyelet on my rod, picked up my cushion and walked quietly along the path to the opposite corner of the pond, from where I had been sitting. I put my cushion on the ground and sat down slowly. Now I was in position to make two more casts, along each bank, from that corner. One cast produced nothing, the second cast landed me a pretty feisty bluegill. On the move again, I found a nice place to sit between two stands of cattails and made casts to my left and right. Only the cast to my right produced another bass...closer to three pounds, this time. It put up a nice fight ! Once released, I was moving again.
The cattails were pretty thick and I could only find one more spot to sit and cast in either direction. Again, one cast produced a bass and the other didn't. The sun was rising fast and the mist was quickly disappearing from the water's surface. I decided I'd try fishing the lower pond. Still using the Pop R, I made several casts in some of my favorite places, but had no hits ! I went back to the van and took out my old reliable, red & white spinnerbait and tied it on. Back at the pond, I made several more casts without making contact with any bass.
I moved around into the last shady part of the pond and made a few casts across the narrow section of the pond and finally, one nice cast, along the bank. As the spinnerbait was within maybe ten feet of me, a bass struck the bait. I landed the two and a half pound bass and released it and figured I had worked those ponds enough for that morning ! I had caught six bass and one bluegill. Now I was going to shoot over to Pond Woods.
I passed Steve, a resident of Pond Woods, on my way over to his neighborhood. We stopped in the middle of Landen Drive and I told him what he had been missing ! We laughed and parted ways and within minutes, I was making casts on Pond Woods. I worked the east end of the pond with no luck but then worked my way around to the west end and made several casts across the narrow section of the pond and WHAM a big bass hit the spinnerbait !
The fight was on ! I set my hook several times, not wanting this bass to get off. I knew this bass was the biggest bass I had ever caught out of Pond Woods and didn't want to lose it ! She put up a damn good fight but I finally wore her out and brought her close enough to be lipped, weighed and released. She was four pounds ! By looking at me, you might have thought I was HIGH, with the plastic smile plastered across my face but I just couldn't help it. I was having the time of my life...this was the best morning ever !
I made several other casts down the bank and managed to catch two more bass on the spinnerbait. Both were just under two pounds...like a pound and a half and a pound and three quarters but both were healthy and put up good fights ! This morning couldn't get any better ! I headed back to the van and noticed it was about 8:30 AM, I was heading home to tell Joyce about my morning of fishing !! My total for the morning was nine bass and one bluegill, in about two hours of fishing ! It doesn't get much better than this !
Experienced & Written by J.Scott Keniston
There I was... it was almost 6:30 AM, the full moon was setting, as the sun was rising in a crystal clear, blue sky, It was a cool morning with mist hanging eerily on the surface of the ponds and lake as I pulled my little van into the Island Clubhouse parking area.
I had the kayak strapped to the top of the van but decided to grab my heavier spinning rod and tied on a frog colored Rebel Pop R, and a boat cushion and then headed over to the bench, under the Shingle Oak Tree, at the Upper Farm Pond and made a cast along the bank, in front of the cattails. I let the lure sit until I couldn't stand it anymore and then I let it sit a little bit more. I finally twitched my rod tip, causing the Pop R to make a BLOOPING and PLOPPING sound as it splashed across the surface of the pond. Three more twitches and then, it almost looked like a bluegill came up and kissed the lure.
The lure disappeared beneath the water's surface. I set the hook (thinking this little bluegill would be sailing overhead in a second) only to be surprised that it was actually a bass on the other end. I set the hook again...to be sure and the fight was on ! Pulling towards the deeper water, this bass was putting up a pretty good fight. I finally got the fish up to where I could see...THEM ??
Yes, it turns out it was two bass, hooked on one lure ! One had a mouth full of tail hook and the other had it mouth full of the belly hook ! I had a time getting them up close enough to grab one and get them off the hooks and released... but I managed ! I had never caught two fish on one lure before ! They both weighed a little over two pounds.
After releasing them...with a huge smile on my face, I thought to myself, if these were the only fish I caught all morning, I was okay with that. They had made my morning already... on the first cast. I tried to relax and picked the other bank for my next cast. The Pop R sailed down parallel with the shoreline and PLOPPED into the water with a SPLASH ! Again, I let it sit for a little while before making my first twitch of the rod tip. About half way back, on the retrieve, a nice bass leaped out of the water, attacking my lure ! I had to wait to make sure it had gotten the lure before setting my hook for the second time this morning. Another bass in the two pound range, caught and released. Man, I was having a great morning and I'd only been fishing for maybe ten or fifteen minutes !
Once that bass was released, I hooked my lure to an eyelet on my rod, picked up my cushion and walked quietly along the path to the opposite corner of the pond, from where I had been sitting. I put my cushion on the ground and sat down slowly. Now I was in position to make two more casts, along each bank, from that corner. One cast produced nothing, the second cast landed me a pretty feisty bluegill. On the move again, I found a nice place to sit between two stands of cattails and made casts to my left and right. Only the cast to my right produced another bass...closer to three pounds, this time. It put up a nice fight ! Once released, I was moving again.
The cattails were pretty thick and I could only find one more spot to sit and cast in either direction. Again, one cast produced a bass and the other didn't. The sun was rising fast and the mist was quickly disappearing from the water's surface. I decided I'd try fishing the lower pond. Still using the Pop R, I made several casts in some of my favorite places, but had no hits ! I went back to the van and took out my old reliable, red & white spinnerbait and tied it on. Back at the pond, I made several more casts without making contact with any bass.
I moved around into the last shady part of the pond and made a few casts across the narrow section of the pond and finally, one nice cast, along the bank. As the spinnerbait was within maybe ten feet of me, a bass struck the bait. I landed the two and a half pound bass and released it and figured I had worked those ponds enough for that morning ! I had caught six bass and one bluegill. Now I was going to shoot over to Pond Woods.
I passed Steve, a resident of Pond Woods, on my way over to his neighborhood. We stopped in the middle of Landen Drive and I told him what he had been missing ! We laughed and parted ways and within minutes, I was making casts on Pond Woods. I worked the east end of the pond with no luck but then worked my way around to the west end and made several casts across the narrow section of the pond and WHAM a big bass hit the spinnerbait !
The fight was on ! I set my hook several times, not wanting this bass to get off. I knew this bass was the biggest bass I had ever caught out of Pond Woods and didn't want to lose it ! She put up a damn good fight but I finally wore her out and brought her close enough to be lipped, weighed and released. She was four pounds ! By looking at me, you might have thought I was HIGH, with the plastic smile plastered across my face but I just couldn't help it. I was having the time of my life...this was the best morning ever !
I made several other casts down the bank and managed to catch two more bass on the spinnerbait. Both were just under two pounds...like a pound and a half and a pound and three quarters but both were healthy and put up good fights ! This morning couldn't get any better ! I headed back to the van and noticed it was about 8:30 AM, I was heading home to tell Joyce about my morning of fishing !! My total for the morning was nine bass and one bluegill, in about two hours of fishing ! It doesn't get much better than this !
Experienced & Written by J.Scott Keniston
My Kodak Moment
Not long after Joyce and I moved to Landen, I discovered the Little Miami River and the old Peters Cartridge Company, the bike trail and the Carl Rahe Park with river access, right down at the bottom of Socialville Foster Road (close enough). Actually, in those days there was river access to the shoreline right there at the STOP sign at the end of Socialville Foster Road. You could just drive across the road and onto the rocky banks of the river, get out and fish, swim picnic or whatever! I had taken some time and walked around all these different areas, fished the river a little in places, waded and swam in others, and was glad to have other places to fish besides Landen Lake. We had a couple of kayaks of our own and the car and van to transport them, so we could do river floats on our own if we wanted to and just a whole host of other water related actives. Joyce and I both love the water and this seemed to be the perfect setup. My buddy Dave and I had talked at length about doing a little, day long fishing trip on the Little Miami. He wanted to come over and see where we could put the kayaks in, around the Peters Cartridge Company and maybe just float down to Alt Park for starters.
The following weekend Joyce was getting together with a few of her friends for more or less, a "girls day out" ! I talked to Dave and it was set, he'd come over that Saturday and we'd checkout the river access points. Once he arrived, we got into my van and headed up to the Peters Cartridge Company and parked. We got out and begin looking all around at the old factory and the surrounding grounds. Then we walked on to the bridge and looked at the tempting riffles in the river below and talked about how nice they looked for holding fish. We were looking downstream. After that...for some odd reason, we began walking down the bike trail, towards Loveland. Now I say this was odd because we really wanted to fish that riffle we had just looked at, so you'd think we would have started looking for river access, upstream ! But No !!! We headed downstream.
The river banks along this section of the bike trail are very steep...not cliffs but almost. Instead of being 90 degrees, maybe they're about 75-80 degrees steep. We kept walking, talking, and looking for possible entry areas. I stopped along the trail and looked at one place where water drained from the hillside above us, and had cut a kind of path to the river bank below.
"Hey, this looks like we could put in here, I exclaimed" ! Davey shook his head, "Hmmm, No ! There could be much peril there...see the loose gravel ?" I insisted that this could be done if we walked sideways down the steep bank. Davey was skeptical. "You go first, he said." Keeping my right foot up on the path and placing my left foot down into the drainage path...everything was fine. "See !" I said, showing him how I'd placed my foot and prepared to take my second step. "Hmmmmmmm, still looks very perilous to me...much peril ! " He shook his head...much peril ! We both laughed as I began to lift my right foot up and put it down on the perilous drainage path.
With that, the gravel beneath my feet slipped and I started sliding down what I now realized was way too steep of a bank for us to traverse. Quickly my sliding turned into tumbling... literally, head over heels. As I tumbled a tree was right smack in front of me and in that split second before I hit it, I hoped I could bear-hug this thing and stop my downward fall. I smacked into the tree with such force and tried hugging it for dear life, but to no avail, my body seemed to swing around the smooth bark tree with unbelievable centrifugal force that I couldn't keep my grip around it and now began sliding the rest of the way, down the embankment, on my back...head first.
Because of the tall weeds up and down the steep bank of the river, Davey couldn't actually see me after I hit the tree but could follow my downward progress to the river's edge by seeing the weeds being mowed down, in my wake. Kind of like driving your car thru a corn field. When my body finally came to rest at the river's edge, my head was mere inches from hitting a sizable boulder.
I lay there for a second and Davey called down to me to see if I was alright ? I began systematically wiggling my fingers and toes to see if I had sustained any back or neck injury that would have left me paralyzed. Then I moved my head a little. Everything seemed to be working ! I called out, "Yeah, I think so !" Davey began laughing and hollered down to me, "MAN, THAT WAS A KODAK MOMENT !" He went on to remind me how perilous it had looked to him and that I should have listened to his warning !
I got to my feet, looked around at my surroundings and back up this steep hillside and dusted myself off. I started climbing back up. Carefully placing each foot step and having firm handholds as I climbed my way, back to the top. I cursed the tree as I climbed past it. I could still feel it's strong trunk up and down my body as I went whizzing past it, earlier. I was almost to the top and had run out of things to hold on to and pull myself up further.
For those of you who know me, you know I'm a big guy. Davey, was bigger and more powerful than me ! Anyway, I could climb no further without risking falling or tumbling back down this CLIFF ! I was in no mood to test my luck again ! Davey laid down on the ground and leaned way over the edge of the embankment and out stretched his arm and hand to me. I reached up as far as I could and took hold of his huge, bear-like paw. and with all his might... pulled me up and back onto the bike path.
Once my feet were planted firmly on the path, we both broke out laughing. I had sustained a few cuts and scrapes and was bleeding in some places but mostly bruised and battered. My body was racked with pain and it hurt as we laughed and walked back to where I'd parked the van. Once we got back to the van, we noticed a few people walking down a dirt path and disappearing thru a bunch of honeysuckle bushes, to the river's edge. We just looked at each other and started laughing again. We followed these intrepid explorers, only to find that they had already discovered the perfect access point, and it was maybe 50 feet away from where we had parked. If we had only looked upstream !
We ended up driving back to the house and picking up an old anchor rope I had marked off in 5 foot increments. With the rope and a small weight tied to the end of it, we headed back to the place of my fateful fall. Once there, I tossed the rope down the bank until the weight landed about where my head ended up...next to the boulder at the river's edge. I retrieved the rope and measured the distance I had fallen... 73 feet down. Luckily, this wasn't a cliff but it is one very steep bank ! Lesson learned...watch out for loose gravel on steep banks. Very Perilous ! So, that was My Kodak Moment ! What's yours ?
Experienced & Written by J.Scott Keniston
The following weekend Joyce was getting together with a few of her friends for more or less, a "girls day out" ! I talked to Dave and it was set, he'd come over that Saturday and we'd checkout the river access points. Once he arrived, we got into my van and headed up to the Peters Cartridge Company and parked. We got out and begin looking all around at the old factory and the surrounding grounds. Then we walked on to the bridge and looked at the tempting riffles in the river below and talked about how nice they looked for holding fish. We were looking downstream. After that...for some odd reason, we began walking down the bike trail, towards Loveland. Now I say this was odd because we really wanted to fish that riffle we had just looked at, so you'd think we would have started looking for river access, upstream ! But No !!! We headed downstream.
The river banks along this section of the bike trail are very steep...not cliffs but almost. Instead of being 90 degrees, maybe they're about 75-80 degrees steep. We kept walking, talking, and looking for possible entry areas. I stopped along the trail and looked at one place where water drained from the hillside above us, and had cut a kind of path to the river bank below.
"Hey, this looks like we could put in here, I exclaimed" ! Davey shook his head, "Hmmm, No ! There could be much peril there...see the loose gravel ?" I insisted that this could be done if we walked sideways down the steep bank. Davey was skeptical. "You go first, he said." Keeping my right foot up on the path and placing my left foot down into the drainage path...everything was fine. "See !" I said, showing him how I'd placed my foot and prepared to take my second step. "Hmmmmmmm, still looks very perilous to me...much peril ! " He shook his head...much peril ! We both laughed as I began to lift my right foot up and put it down on the perilous drainage path.
With that, the gravel beneath my feet slipped and I started sliding down what I now realized was way too steep of a bank for us to traverse. Quickly my sliding turned into tumbling... literally, head over heels. As I tumbled a tree was right smack in front of me and in that split second before I hit it, I hoped I could bear-hug this thing and stop my downward fall. I smacked into the tree with such force and tried hugging it for dear life, but to no avail, my body seemed to swing around the smooth bark tree with unbelievable centrifugal force that I couldn't keep my grip around it and now began sliding the rest of the way, down the embankment, on my back...head first.
Because of the tall weeds up and down the steep bank of the river, Davey couldn't actually see me after I hit the tree but could follow my downward progress to the river's edge by seeing the weeds being mowed down, in my wake. Kind of like driving your car thru a corn field. When my body finally came to rest at the river's edge, my head was mere inches from hitting a sizable boulder.
I lay there for a second and Davey called down to me to see if I was alright ? I began systematically wiggling my fingers and toes to see if I had sustained any back or neck injury that would have left me paralyzed. Then I moved my head a little. Everything seemed to be working ! I called out, "Yeah, I think so !" Davey began laughing and hollered down to me, "MAN, THAT WAS A KODAK MOMENT !" He went on to remind me how perilous it had looked to him and that I should have listened to his warning !
I got to my feet, looked around at my surroundings and back up this steep hillside and dusted myself off. I started climbing back up. Carefully placing each foot step and having firm handholds as I climbed my way, back to the top. I cursed the tree as I climbed past it. I could still feel it's strong trunk up and down my body as I went whizzing past it, earlier. I was almost to the top and had run out of things to hold on to and pull myself up further.
For those of you who know me, you know I'm a big guy. Davey, was bigger and more powerful than me ! Anyway, I could climb no further without risking falling or tumbling back down this CLIFF ! I was in no mood to test my luck again ! Davey laid down on the ground and leaned way over the edge of the embankment and out stretched his arm and hand to me. I reached up as far as I could and took hold of his huge, bear-like paw. and with all his might... pulled me up and back onto the bike path.
Once my feet were planted firmly on the path, we both broke out laughing. I had sustained a few cuts and scrapes and was bleeding in some places but mostly bruised and battered. My body was racked with pain and it hurt as we laughed and walked back to where I'd parked the van. Once we got back to the van, we noticed a few people walking down a dirt path and disappearing thru a bunch of honeysuckle bushes, to the river's edge. We just looked at each other and started laughing again. We followed these intrepid explorers, only to find that they had already discovered the perfect access point, and it was maybe 50 feet away from where we had parked. If we had only looked upstream !
We ended up driving back to the house and picking up an old anchor rope I had marked off in 5 foot increments. With the rope and a small weight tied to the end of it, we headed back to the place of my fateful fall. Once there, I tossed the rope down the bank until the weight landed about where my head ended up...next to the boulder at the river's edge. I retrieved the rope and measured the distance I had fallen... 73 feet down. Luckily, this wasn't a cliff but it is one very steep bank ! Lesson learned...watch out for loose gravel on steep banks. Very Perilous ! So, that was My Kodak Moment ! What's yours ?
Experienced & Written by J.Scott Keniston
Getting Onboard !
I guess I've always been some-what of a prepper. That's the term used these days for someone that prepares for an emergency.
It started with me at a very early age, I had to be a little more cautious and prepared than my friends. It turns out, I'm allergic to bee and wasp stings and had to be able to access my life saving medicine, within 30 minutes of being stung.
A little later in life, when I was seven years old, my Dad gave me a Barlow, Pocket Knife for Christmas and taught me how to use it and that it was a tool, not a weapon. He told me he carried his knife in his pocket everyday, everywhere. From that day on, I was just like my Dad and carried my knife, everywhere, everyday. These days, they call this an EDC for Every Day Carry.
Not long after that Christmas, I got into scouting. Their moto is, " Be Prepared". This was just the thing for me. Plus, I picked up a Scouting Pocket Knife, with the can and bottle opener, screw driver, awl and two and a half inch long knife blade. This was like the early version of a Swiss Army Knife ! All this and the fact that my family was getting into camping... I was learning all kinds of stuff and putting some of it to practical use, when we camped and even when we played outside, at home !
As time went on, for birthdays and Christmas's I received things like a fiberglass, re-curved bow and arrows, BB guns (pistol & rifle) and additional knives. By the time I was a freshman in high school, I had retired the BB guns and moved up to a 22 caliber rifle and started some serious target shooting.
By my junior year in high school, I bought a motorcycle and modified my tool kit to be able to hold my stuff for bee stings, a few band-aids and some cotton balls. My friends thought I was crazy, but it was something I had to do. We would take overnight trips on our motorcycles, with sleeping bags strapped to the fender and a small cooler strapped to the bag and primitive camp. out in Indiana. In case of bad weather, we also carried a clear plastic sheet of plastic, that was rolled into one of our sleeping bags, to use as a tarp over our bikes, in case it rained. We built our campfires and cooked our meals over the open flame. These were all great learning experiences for camping and self-reliance.
Then in the Spring of 74, the "Great Tornado", that came up the backside of Bridgetown, Ohio happened and it was my Mother who called my Dad and me to come into the basement for safety. She had hastily grabbed a flashlight, some batteries, and a radio to prepare us for whatever happened next ! At the time, we thought she was crazy and stayed out in the front yard, watching as the tornado looked like it was going past the Oak Hills High School, before lifting off the ground, over by the water tower. Her emergency supplies weren't needed that day but Mom had the right idea !
Then I joined the Navy and thus began a new chapter of being prepared. A lot was learned in basic training and more was learned while stationed in New Orleans and Guantanamo Bay, Cuba when we had to prepared 72 hours in advance for hurricanes and tropical depressions at both Naval Stations. That was some good practical experience. Plus, I saw first hand how the Navy stockpiled supplies in what they called the Hurricane Locker ! That was an eye opener!
Then in 1976, Fidel Castro began grumbling about wanting the base at Guantanamo Bay back from the U.S. Cuban troops and tanks began moving all along the fence-line, very menacingly. We were briefed and told that we only had to hold out for maybe 10 or 15 minutes before air support could be scrambled for a counter attack against the aggressing communist forces. We all had our packs, readied with what we thought we might need and a plan that included a secure hideout as our rally point, if we had to hide out, until the counter strike came. Well, as we all know, the base at Guantanamo Bay is still there, but the experience is still fresh in my mind. In todays media, our packs would be called Bug Out Bags or BOB's.
After I got out of the Navy, in the spring of 78, I bought a brand new pickup truck and had a fiberglass cap put on it. Hey, this was right after the BLIZZARD of 1977 and everybody was getting better prepared after that ! With the help of my friends, we made a false floor in the bed of the truck and created storage boxes over the wheel-wells. I had enough supplies and clothing packed in the back of that truck to hold out for more than a week or so, if needed. With storage for long items like fishing rods, rifle and shotgun under the floor and the smaller compartments used for clothing, ammo, toiletries and other camping supplies in the storage boxes over the wheel wells, everything was tucked away nicely, leaving enough room for two adults to sleep comfortably on the eight foot long bed, complete with sleeping bags and pillows. Today, they would call this a Bug Out Vehicle or BOV.
These days there are many different thoughts on "The End of the World", as we know it ! Some fear terrorists threats and attacks, others think the countries monetary system will fail, riots will break out and martial law will be imposed, while others fear a pandemic, earthquakes, solar flares and tidal waves that could take down our power grids, leaving us all in the dark, without heat or air conditioning or God forbid... the internet, cell phones and even the use of our cars!
Everybody has their own thoughts on this, but what about a good old fashioned ice storm ? Something in the middle of winter that could take down the power grid for an entire region ? What would you do then ? Do you have a plan ? Have you ever thought about this ? The only good thing about this happening in the middle of winter is, you sort of have a built-in freezer, just outside your door. Or if there is snow on the ground, you could use it to pack in your cooler. But really... have you ever given this any thought ? How would you and your family would stay warm without electric heat ? What about in the heat of the summer ? No air conditioning !!! OMG !!!
We faired pretty well after the 80mph winds from Hurricane Ike, came thru Landen, back in 2008 and knocked out the power for a few days. That was easy ! That was in early fall, when the temperatures outside were still comfortable, without the threat of rain, and all you really had to worry about was food perishing in your refrigerator and freezer and not being able to take a hot shower ! Luckily the entire region or city wasn't totally affected by these winds and we could drive out to get ice for the coolers, gas for the car and fast food to feed ourselves. We just stuck around the house and cooked our food over the fire pit or the gas grill and made the best of a bad situation. It was kind of fun and we were fine !
Maybe a year or so ago, Joyce, began thinking about some of these different scenarios and thought it would be a good idea if we prepared ourselves a little bit better. She asked me if I would get onboard with this idea ? I smiled and told her, I was always prepared, and was glad she was ready to take a more active role with our preparedness ! I don't consider us extremists but we're a little better prepared than we were before and have learned a lot of new things from TV shows, YouTube videos, blogs and websites, concerning preparedness and self reliance tips. As some of you already know, I have a page on my website, dedicated to these tips... for you read and maybe give you ideas of what you can do to better prepare yourself for future emergencies.
We keep hearing commercials on radio and TV from the American Red Cross, FEMA and the CDC, advising everyone to be better prepared. It just makes me wonder, is something coming ? What do they know, that we don't ? You never know, do you ? But if you're better prepared, you can handle it better.
Written by J.Scott Keniston
It started with me at a very early age, I had to be a little more cautious and prepared than my friends. It turns out, I'm allergic to bee and wasp stings and had to be able to access my life saving medicine, within 30 minutes of being stung.
A little later in life, when I was seven years old, my Dad gave me a Barlow, Pocket Knife for Christmas and taught me how to use it and that it was a tool, not a weapon. He told me he carried his knife in his pocket everyday, everywhere. From that day on, I was just like my Dad and carried my knife, everywhere, everyday. These days, they call this an EDC for Every Day Carry.
Not long after that Christmas, I got into scouting. Their moto is, " Be Prepared". This was just the thing for me. Plus, I picked up a Scouting Pocket Knife, with the can and bottle opener, screw driver, awl and two and a half inch long knife blade. This was like the early version of a Swiss Army Knife ! All this and the fact that my family was getting into camping... I was learning all kinds of stuff and putting some of it to practical use, when we camped and even when we played outside, at home !
As time went on, for birthdays and Christmas's I received things like a fiberglass, re-curved bow and arrows, BB guns (pistol & rifle) and additional knives. By the time I was a freshman in high school, I had retired the BB guns and moved up to a 22 caliber rifle and started some serious target shooting.
By my junior year in high school, I bought a motorcycle and modified my tool kit to be able to hold my stuff for bee stings, a few band-aids and some cotton balls. My friends thought I was crazy, but it was something I had to do. We would take overnight trips on our motorcycles, with sleeping bags strapped to the fender and a small cooler strapped to the bag and primitive camp. out in Indiana. In case of bad weather, we also carried a clear plastic sheet of plastic, that was rolled into one of our sleeping bags, to use as a tarp over our bikes, in case it rained. We built our campfires and cooked our meals over the open flame. These were all great learning experiences for camping and self-reliance.
Then in the Spring of 74, the "Great Tornado", that came up the backside of Bridgetown, Ohio happened and it was my Mother who called my Dad and me to come into the basement for safety. She had hastily grabbed a flashlight, some batteries, and a radio to prepare us for whatever happened next ! At the time, we thought she was crazy and stayed out in the front yard, watching as the tornado looked like it was going past the Oak Hills High School, before lifting off the ground, over by the water tower. Her emergency supplies weren't needed that day but Mom had the right idea !
Then I joined the Navy and thus began a new chapter of being prepared. A lot was learned in basic training and more was learned while stationed in New Orleans and Guantanamo Bay, Cuba when we had to prepared 72 hours in advance for hurricanes and tropical depressions at both Naval Stations. That was some good practical experience. Plus, I saw first hand how the Navy stockpiled supplies in what they called the Hurricane Locker ! That was an eye opener!
Then in 1976, Fidel Castro began grumbling about wanting the base at Guantanamo Bay back from the U.S. Cuban troops and tanks began moving all along the fence-line, very menacingly. We were briefed and told that we only had to hold out for maybe 10 or 15 minutes before air support could be scrambled for a counter attack against the aggressing communist forces. We all had our packs, readied with what we thought we might need and a plan that included a secure hideout as our rally point, if we had to hide out, until the counter strike came. Well, as we all know, the base at Guantanamo Bay is still there, but the experience is still fresh in my mind. In todays media, our packs would be called Bug Out Bags or BOB's.
After I got out of the Navy, in the spring of 78, I bought a brand new pickup truck and had a fiberglass cap put on it. Hey, this was right after the BLIZZARD of 1977 and everybody was getting better prepared after that ! With the help of my friends, we made a false floor in the bed of the truck and created storage boxes over the wheel-wells. I had enough supplies and clothing packed in the back of that truck to hold out for more than a week or so, if needed. With storage for long items like fishing rods, rifle and shotgun under the floor and the smaller compartments used for clothing, ammo, toiletries and other camping supplies in the storage boxes over the wheel wells, everything was tucked away nicely, leaving enough room for two adults to sleep comfortably on the eight foot long bed, complete with sleeping bags and pillows. Today, they would call this a Bug Out Vehicle or BOV.
These days there are many different thoughts on "The End of the World", as we know it ! Some fear terrorists threats and attacks, others think the countries monetary system will fail, riots will break out and martial law will be imposed, while others fear a pandemic, earthquakes, solar flares and tidal waves that could take down our power grids, leaving us all in the dark, without heat or air conditioning or God forbid... the internet, cell phones and even the use of our cars!
Everybody has their own thoughts on this, but what about a good old fashioned ice storm ? Something in the middle of winter that could take down the power grid for an entire region ? What would you do then ? Do you have a plan ? Have you ever thought about this ? The only good thing about this happening in the middle of winter is, you sort of have a built-in freezer, just outside your door. Or if there is snow on the ground, you could use it to pack in your cooler. But really... have you ever given this any thought ? How would you and your family would stay warm without electric heat ? What about in the heat of the summer ? No air conditioning !!! OMG !!!
We faired pretty well after the 80mph winds from Hurricane Ike, came thru Landen, back in 2008 and knocked out the power for a few days. That was easy ! That was in early fall, when the temperatures outside were still comfortable, without the threat of rain, and all you really had to worry about was food perishing in your refrigerator and freezer and not being able to take a hot shower ! Luckily the entire region or city wasn't totally affected by these winds and we could drive out to get ice for the coolers, gas for the car and fast food to feed ourselves. We just stuck around the house and cooked our food over the fire pit or the gas grill and made the best of a bad situation. It was kind of fun and we were fine !
Maybe a year or so ago, Joyce, began thinking about some of these different scenarios and thought it would be a good idea if we prepared ourselves a little bit better. She asked me if I would get onboard with this idea ? I smiled and told her, I was always prepared, and was glad she was ready to take a more active role with our preparedness ! I don't consider us extremists but we're a little better prepared than we were before and have learned a lot of new things from TV shows, YouTube videos, blogs and websites, concerning preparedness and self reliance tips. As some of you already know, I have a page on my website, dedicated to these tips... for you read and maybe give you ideas of what you can do to better prepare yourself for future emergencies.
We keep hearing commercials on radio and TV from the American Red Cross, FEMA and the CDC, advising everyone to be better prepared. It just makes me wonder, is something coming ? What do they know, that we don't ? You never know, do you ? But if you're better prepared, you can handle it better.
Written by J.Scott Keniston
The Adopted Duckling
With 11 of their own...the geese adopt the orphaned duckling
Melissa moved to Landen about a year ago. She lives on the lake and walks her dog, Rum, every morning. A couple of days after Easter, she noticed a domestic duckling on one of the ponds, around the Islands Clubhouse...all alone She figured it must have been an elaborate Easter gift for a child that couldn't keep it in the house. There it was, fending for itself, still to young to fly and still in it's yellow, downy plumage.
While walking another morning, Melissa thought it looked like the duckling was hanging around with a family of Canadian Geese with a newly hatched brood of goslings. Later that week, Melissa confirmed that the ducking had indead been taken in by the family of Canadian Geese. She was happy to know the duckiling was going to know and live with some sort of family while growing up on the lake.
Melissa reports that the newly formed family unit have moved off the ponds and can be seen on the main lake. When she saw them last, they were around the gazebo. The Goose family of this story had 11 of their own goslings...What's another mouth at that point ? I was glad Melissa told me this story and even more over joyed that the Goose Control Commitee hadn't destroyed all the eggs laid around Landen this season. Because this is a domestic duck, I don't know if it'll learn to fly with the geese or not ? The orphaned duck is still on the lake and has survived the winter months. I affectionately, named it AFLAK, like the duck in the commercial on TV.
Told by Melissa H. & Written by J.Scott Keniston
While walking another morning, Melissa thought it looked like the duckling was hanging around with a family of Canadian Geese with a newly hatched brood of goslings. Later that week, Melissa confirmed that the ducking had indead been taken in by the family of Canadian Geese. She was happy to know the duckiling was going to know and live with some sort of family while growing up on the lake.
Melissa reports that the newly formed family unit have moved off the ponds and can be seen on the main lake. When she saw them last, they were around the gazebo. The Goose family of this story had 11 of their own goslings...What's another mouth at that point ? I was glad Melissa told me this story and even more over joyed that the Goose Control Commitee hadn't destroyed all the eggs laid around Landen this season. Because this is a domestic duck, I don't know if it'll learn to fly with the geese or not ? The orphaned duck is still on the lake and has survived the winter months. I affectionately, named it AFLAK, like the duck in the commercial on TV.
Told by Melissa H. & Written by J.Scott Keniston
A Mess of Crappie
Back in the “olden days” I would start fishing for crappie off the dam on Landen Lake in mid-March. This one particular April I saw a boy, his father and his grandfather all fishing from a flat-bottom jon boat for crappie. They had elaborate minnow rigs and were fishing maybe 10 feet away from me, by the overflow/spillway. They lowered their live bait offerings into the water and sat…and waited. Meanwhile, I was casting my jig and grub combo and catching a crappie on every cast. The grandfather was the first to speak up, once he saw me throwing all my fish back into the lake. He asked if I was going to throw them all back ? I said yes and continued to cast and catch. The father spoke up next and said they would take all the fish I caught, if I didn’t mind tossing them into their boat. The grandson would take care of putting them in their basket, grandpa added. Turns out grandma wanted crappie for lunch and they needed a mess of crappie to make a meal for all of them to enjoy. I tossed fish after fish into their boat. Finally, the grandfather asked what I was using (since they hadn’t caught anything). I showed them the little 1/32 oz red and white jig I was using and the inch long, white, curly-tail , soft plastic grub that I rigged with it. The father said he had nothing in his tackle box like that. So, I ended up giving each of them their own jig head and a few of my curly tail grubs. Once I had their new offerings tied on, they immediately started catching crappie on every cast. After about an hour, I had, had enough and went home for a rest. They stayed out there and kept fishing. When I left, their basket was getting pretty full.
Later that afternoon, I went back out to fish again and there they were, fishing again. Turns out, lunch was so good, grandma wanted a mess, more for dinner. I gave them each a few more replacement grubs and they continued to catch their dinner for that evening. I hope grandma was pleased with their catch !
Written by J.Scott Keniston
Later that afternoon, I went back out to fish again and there they were, fishing again. Turns out, lunch was so good, grandma wanted a mess, more for dinner. I gave them each a few more replacement grubs and they continued to catch their dinner for that evening. I hope grandma was pleased with their catch !
Written by J.Scott Keniston
Matching the Hatch
Wooly Bugger with tail
I grabbed my kayak and fishing tackle and went out to fish on Landen Lake one evening after work but instead of fishing, I spent more time talking with other anglers and folks out walking their dogs. That’s how I met Dave. He and his dog are regulars around the lake and Dave and I started talking about fishing After about a week or so of running into each other, around a favorite stretch of shoreline I like to fish, he told me he is a fly fisherman and prefers to fish for trout...except for this one time.
Dave went on to say that he was fly fishing in some stream and noticed some fish kept rising and taking something off the surface. They were up stream from Dave and under some over hanging trees along the bank. Fly fisherman are always alert as to what the fish are feeding on so Dave edged up closer to see what was what ? He noticed at least one of the trees over hanging the stream was a mulberry tree and birds and squirrels were feeding heavily on the ripened berries and some were being knocked off and dropping into the water. As the berries fell into the water, it turns out that a smallmouth bass with an unusual appetite for berries was feeding on them as they fell. This is unusual because bass are carnivores (meat eaters). Now we have one that likes fruit ! Being a true fly fisherman, Dave looked thru his fly selection, to try an "match the hatch" , in a matter of speaking. This means that he was trying to find a fly in his box that looked like a ripe mulberry. What he found was a black, wooly booger (fly). He tied it on the end of his tipet and made a cast where the berries had been falling. Dave was waist deep in the stream with a good current flowing, when this monster smallmouth bass hit the wooly booger fly, it pulled Dave off his feet and he fell below the top of his waders. This is very dangerous, when your waders fill up with water it can pull an angler under and drown them. Not wanting to lose his rod and reel, Dave held on as only a true fisherman would. Luckily the smallmouth broke his line and Dave is still with us to tell the tale.
Thanks for the story Dave.
Told by Dave, Written by J.Scott Keniston
Dave went on to say that he was fly fishing in some stream and noticed some fish kept rising and taking something off the surface. They were up stream from Dave and under some over hanging trees along the bank. Fly fisherman are always alert as to what the fish are feeding on so Dave edged up closer to see what was what ? He noticed at least one of the trees over hanging the stream was a mulberry tree and birds and squirrels were feeding heavily on the ripened berries and some were being knocked off and dropping into the water. As the berries fell into the water, it turns out that a smallmouth bass with an unusual appetite for berries was feeding on them as they fell. This is unusual because bass are carnivores (meat eaters). Now we have one that likes fruit ! Being a true fly fisherman, Dave looked thru his fly selection, to try an "match the hatch" , in a matter of speaking. This means that he was trying to find a fly in his box that looked like a ripe mulberry. What he found was a black, wooly booger (fly). He tied it on the end of his tipet and made a cast where the berries had been falling. Dave was waist deep in the stream with a good current flowing, when this monster smallmouth bass hit the wooly booger fly, it pulled Dave off his feet and he fell below the top of his waders. This is very dangerous, when your waders fill up with water it can pull an angler under and drown them. Not wanting to lose his rod and reel, Dave held on as only a true fisherman would. Luckily the smallmouth broke his line and Dave is still with us to tell the tale.
Thanks for the story Dave.
Told by Dave, Written by J.Scott Keniston
What Cut of Meat is That ?
While I was in the Navy I was introduced to many new cultures and foods. The foods I liked, I learned how to prepare myself...but before I go any further with this story, I have to give you a little background about my Father and his side of the family.
My Fathers' relatives had slaughter houses in old Cincinnati (Porkopolis). Dad always had our deep freezer filled with all kinds of beef and pork. Mom would buy chicken every now and then but you never saw anything like fish served in our house, it was strictly a "Meat & Potatoes" household. Needless to say, my Father knew his cuts of meat.
Another side-note is that my friends Tom and Kenny taught me how to skin a deer and process the meat. Guys I knew that didn't know how to do this would call me after the kill and have me process their venison for the freezer and eventually the dinner table. As payment for my service, they would give me meat to put in my own freezer. Joyce and I love venison.
One evening we invited my Dad, Sister, Brother-in-law and Aunt over for dinner. I was preparing a couple different Chinese dishes, that I thought my family might except. I was making sweet n sour chicken and a Szechaun beef dish. Once they all arrived at the house, they sat in the kitchen and talked and played cards while I prepped and cooked. Dad, not caring to play cards, came over to the counter where I was slicing and dicing and asked if he could help ? I told him I had everything under control and he just watched as I prepared our meal. As he stood there watching me, we talked quietly while the card game carried on. All of a sudden Dad noticed a bowl of dark red meat marinating while I chopped vegetables. He slid up along my left side and in even more of a hushed voice he asked, "What cut of meat is that son ?" I leaned my head even closer to his and whispered, "Venison." "Mmmmmmmmmmm, I haven't had venison in years, he whispered back." "Whatever you do, don't tell your sister." I promised not to tell and my prep work was almost done. With a smile on his face he causually walked over to see how the card game was going.
Soon after the table was set, the food was prepared and laid out buffet style. My Sister deemed herself the official taster for the family to make sure everything was palletable. Once she gave her nod of approval, the rest of the family began filling their plates and later, going back for seconds. I was glad they all enjoyed the dinner. Afterwards we retired to the family room and sat back in comfortable chairs, telling old stories and laughing about the good old days. My brother-in-law leaned forward on the couch and again complimented me on the dinner and in particular, he wanted to know what cut of meat I used to make the Szechaun Beef dish and how he could make it himself ? I cast a quick glance at Joyce and another at Dad and the three of us just smiled. When I told him it was venison, my sisters' jaw dropped to the floor like a cartoon characters'. Needless to say, she was shocked but once she picked her jaw up off the floor and re-hinged it, she laughed and said, "Well, I have to admit, it was delicious...I had two helpings." Then she went on to admit that if I had told her what it was before she ate, she never would have even tried it but now that she has had it, she was more open minded.
Over the years I have prepared and cooked different wild game dishes that people have turned their nose up at, until I got them to try my version of the dish. Things like duck, goose, pheasant, quail, squirrel, rabbit, deer and bear. I stir-fry a lot of my wild game dishes but also roast, grill and stew some of the others.
Finally, I've made Burgoo, which is like and old French Trappers Stew, cooked outdoors in a cast iron dutch oven over an open fire for a few hours. One day I found I had a little bit of rabbit, a little squirrel, some deer, some duck and some bear meat. I flung it all in a pot, with sliced potatoes, carrots, celery, onion and a couple bay leaves and added water and some chicken stock salt, pepper and let it simmer. I added corn starch to the juices to thicken it up like a gravy. I had a 16 quart stock pot full when I went to work and during lunch, the guys wiped it out. They used bread to mop up all the gravy left in the stew pot and wiped it clean. I think they really liked it !
My Brother-in-law remarked about the lack of a gamey taste. I explained my theory on processing the meat. Kenny had taught me not to cut thru the
bone but instead, fillet the meat off the bone. It was his belief that the bone dust created by cutting thru the bone of any animal tainted the taste of
the meat. To this day I always follow the methods Kenny taught me and more and more people that have had meat I've prepared rave about how good it is. I'm glad they enjoy my cooking !
Written by J.Scott Keniston
My Fathers' relatives had slaughter houses in old Cincinnati (Porkopolis). Dad always had our deep freezer filled with all kinds of beef and pork. Mom would buy chicken every now and then but you never saw anything like fish served in our house, it was strictly a "Meat & Potatoes" household. Needless to say, my Father knew his cuts of meat.
Another side-note is that my friends Tom and Kenny taught me how to skin a deer and process the meat. Guys I knew that didn't know how to do this would call me after the kill and have me process their venison for the freezer and eventually the dinner table. As payment for my service, they would give me meat to put in my own freezer. Joyce and I love venison.
One evening we invited my Dad, Sister, Brother-in-law and Aunt over for dinner. I was preparing a couple different Chinese dishes, that I thought my family might except. I was making sweet n sour chicken and a Szechaun beef dish. Once they all arrived at the house, they sat in the kitchen and talked and played cards while I prepped and cooked. Dad, not caring to play cards, came over to the counter where I was slicing and dicing and asked if he could help ? I told him I had everything under control and he just watched as I prepared our meal. As he stood there watching me, we talked quietly while the card game carried on. All of a sudden Dad noticed a bowl of dark red meat marinating while I chopped vegetables. He slid up along my left side and in even more of a hushed voice he asked, "What cut of meat is that son ?" I leaned my head even closer to his and whispered, "Venison." "Mmmmmmmmmmm, I haven't had venison in years, he whispered back." "Whatever you do, don't tell your sister." I promised not to tell and my prep work was almost done. With a smile on his face he causually walked over to see how the card game was going.
Soon after the table was set, the food was prepared and laid out buffet style. My Sister deemed herself the official taster for the family to make sure everything was palletable. Once she gave her nod of approval, the rest of the family began filling their plates and later, going back for seconds. I was glad they all enjoyed the dinner. Afterwards we retired to the family room and sat back in comfortable chairs, telling old stories and laughing about the good old days. My brother-in-law leaned forward on the couch and again complimented me on the dinner and in particular, he wanted to know what cut of meat I used to make the Szechaun Beef dish and how he could make it himself ? I cast a quick glance at Joyce and another at Dad and the three of us just smiled. When I told him it was venison, my sisters' jaw dropped to the floor like a cartoon characters'. Needless to say, she was shocked but once she picked her jaw up off the floor and re-hinged it, she laughed and said, "Well, I have to admit, it was delicious...I had two helpings." Then she went on to admit that if I had told her what it was before she ate, she never would have even tried it but now that she has had it, she was more open minded.
Over the years I have prepared and cooked different wild game dishes that people have turned their nose up at, until I got them to try my version of the dish. Things like duck, goose, pheasant, quail, squirrel, rabbit, deer and bear. I stir-fry a lot of my wild game dishes but also roast, grill and stew some of the others.
Finally, I've made Burgoo, which is like and old French Trappers Stew, cooked outdoors in a cast iron dutch oven over an open fire for a few hours. One day I found I had a little bit of rabbit, a little squirrel, some deer, some duck and some bear meat. I flung it all in a pot, with sliced potatoes, carrots, celery, onion and a couple bay leaves and added water and some chicken stock salt, pepper and let it simmer. I added corn starch to the juices to thicken it up like a gravy. I had a 16 quart stock pot full when I went to work and during lunch, the guys wiped it out. They used bread to mop up all the gravy left in the stew pot and wiped it clean. I think they really liked it !
My Brother-in-law remarked about the lack of a gamey taste. I explained my theory on processing the meat. Kenny had taught me not to cut thru the
bone but instead, fillet the meat off the bone. It was his belief that the bone dust created by cutting thru the bone of any animal tainted the taste of
the meat. To this day I always follow the methods Kenny taught me and more and more people that have had meat I've prepared rave about how good it is. I'm glad they enjoy my cooking !
Written by J.Scott Keniston
JUMP !!!
After Dick and Gail moved to Landen, they had a little incodent with a chipmonk that had gotten in their Condo without them knowing.
They noticed their cat acting strangely, whenever it heard the chipmonk or maybe caught a glimpse of it, scurrying about.
With the aid of the cat, Gail and Dick discovered the chipmonk had made a hiding place, behind the kickboard of the vanity in their powder room. It seems the kickboard has a space at the top where the chipmonk could go up and over and hide in the hollow base of the vanity...where the cat couldn't get it.
So one day, Dick and Gail devised a plan to catch the chipmonk. Phase 1 They were going to wait till the chipmonk came out of hiding. Phase 2 then use towels to stuff the space above the kickboard, preventing the chipmonks escape. Phase 3, Dick was going to put on a heavy pair of welders gloves and grab the little varmit. Phase 4, take the chipmonk outside, released alive.
Sounded like a great plan ! Then, one day, the cat was stalking the chipmonk and the plan went into effect.
They both went into the powder room and Gail stuffed the towels under the kickboard and then at the bottom of the door, just in case the chipmonk could slip under the crack. Once that was accomplished, Dick had on his gloves and located the chipmonk behind the toilet. Carefully and causiously, Dick moved in for the grab. GOTCHA ! Dick had the chipmonk in his heavily gloved hands and as he stood up and turned around...the chipmonk wiggled free and jumped out of his hands. As the chipmonk jumped, so did Gail... on top of the vanity ! Dick, quickly re-captured the chipmonk...this time with a firmer grip, helped Gail down off the vanity top and took the chipmonk outside for a proper release. Now, who do you think jumped the quickest and highest...Gail or the chipmonk ?
Told by Gail & Dick Schauerte
Written by J.Scott Keniston
They noticed their cat acting strangely, whenever it heard the chipmonk or maybe caught a glimpse of it, scurrying about.
With the aid of the cat, Gail and Dick discovered the chipmonk had made a hiding place, behind the kickboard of the vanity in their powder room. It seems the kickboard has a space at the top where the chipmonk could go up and over and hide in the hollow base of the vanity...where the cat couldn't get it.
So one day, Dick and Gail devised a plan to catch the chipmonk. Phase 1 They were going to wait till the chipmonk came out of hiding. Phase 2 then use towels to stuff the space above the kickboard, preventing the chipmonks escape. Phase 3, Dick was going to put on a heavy pair of welders gloves and grab the little varmit. Phase 4, take the chipmonk outside, released alive.
Sounded like a great plan ! Then, one day, the cat was stalking the chipmonk and the plan went into effect.
They both went into the powder room and Gail stuffed the towels under the kickboard and then at the bottom of the door, just in case the chipmonk could slip under the crack. Once that was accomplished, Dick had on his gloves and located the chipmonk behind the toilet. Carefully and causiously, Dick moved in for the grab. GOTCHA ! Dick had the chipmonk in his heavily gloved hands and as he stood up and turned around...the chipmonk wiggled free and jumped out of his hands. As the chipmonk jumped, so did Gail... on top of the vanity ! Dick, quickly re-captured the chipmonk...this time with a firmer grip, helped Gail down off the vanity top and took the chipmonk outside for a proper release. Now, who do you think jumped the quickest and highest...Gail or the chipmonk ?
Told by Gail & Dick Schauerte
Written by J.Scott Keniston
Dark Shadows
Great Horned Owl in the moonlight
Joyce and I would often sit out either in our backyard or in our driveway, of an evening, during the summer months. Sometimes we would actually lay down on the driveway, rather than crane our necks as we sat in chairs to gaze up at the stars, on a clear night. One particular night, as we lay there, in the driveway, a Great horned Owl flew right over the top of us.
It was a huge, dark form with a wingspan that looked at least four or five feet across. It was so close we could hear its feathers ruffle as it soared over our bodies, in the silence of the night. Of course we were both startled as it swooped past us. We watched as it quickly disappeared over a neighbors’ house.
Later we heard owls hooting and could see their silhouettes in the moonlight, as they sat in the treetops. It was just a cool experience.
Written by J.Scott Keniston
It was a huge, dark form with a wingspan that looked at least four or five feet across. It was so close we could hear its feathers ruffle as it soared over our bodies, in the silence of the night. Of course we were both startled as it swooped past us. We watched as it quickly disappeared over a neighbors’ house.
Later we heard owls hooting and could see their silhouettes in the moonlight, as they sat in the treetops. It was just a cool experience.
Written by J.Scott Keniston
A thump in the night on Creekwood Lane
Follow this closely... the boyfriend of our neighbors' daughter, gave her either a love bird or a white dove for her birthday one year (while she was living at home with her parents). When she moved into her own apartment she left the bird with Mom & Dad. The birds' cage was placed by a window in the familyroom.
One night, while Mom and Dad were watching TV, they heard a loud thump on the familyroom window and the caged bird was frantic. Dad got up, grabbed a flashlight and went out back to see who or what had hit the window... He found nothing !
A few nights later, the window was hit again, Dad went out again a but this time searched more throughly with the flashlight. What he discovered was a Great Horned Owl, trying to get the caged bird. After hitting the window, it was stunned and struggling to right itself, on the ground, before flying off and giving up on the caged bird as a late night snack.
Told by Dianne
Written by J.Scott Keniston
One night, while Mom and Dad were watching TV, they heard a loud thump on the familyroom window and the caged bird was frantic. Dad got up, grabbed a flashlight and went out back to see who or what had hit the window... He found nothing !
A few nights later, the window was hit again, Dad went out again a but this time searched more throughly with the flashlight. What he discovered was a Great Horned Owl, trying to get the caged bird. After hitting the window, it was stunned and struggling to right itself, on the ground, before flying off and giving up on the caged bird as a late night snack.
Told by Dianne
Written by J.Scott Keniston
Circle of Life
7/29/10 I was in my office and looked down at a duck “going crazy” in the pond. So, I stepped out onto the balcony for a closer look and the duck was in a frenzy swimming rapidly in a tight circle maybe 18 inches wide and beating the water with her wings so hard I thought she’d never fly again. At first I assumed she was cleaning herself as ducks often do with great gusto, but it became apparent that this was a frantic reaction and I thought maybe her leg was snagged by fishing line. I went downstairs and as I came out of my back door I saw she had left the water and joined her four “teenagers” on the bank. And I saw where she had been circling in the water a whitish something...almost like a bar of soap just below the surface. I was curious to know if it was related to her bizarre behavior, so I crossed the bridge and went to the far edge of the pond where I could see it was a duck’s butt. The bird was floating tail up with bill down and motionless. This I could not fathom; a dead duck would not float bill down. There were some bubbles but no movement...at first. Then the upside-down duck started bobbing up and down, but I was sure it was dead as they cannot hold their breath that long. The bobbing continued and I saw the duck begin to move backward through the water. It was at that moment that the mystery was solved. This young duck had drowned because a snapping turtle had grabbed it by the bill and held it under water while the mother tried desperately to scare the turtle into releasing her duckling...one of five. I stood motionless as the snapper pushed and pulled the youngster, never releasing the bill from its jaws until later when it was frightened by a large creature on the edge of the pond..."Me". Later that afternoon I saw the snapper return to chomp on its floating prey. The mother and four young ones huddled calmly near the tennis courts perhaps whispering, "Jeez, Mom! We thought it was safe to go into the water."
Wittnessed, written & submitted by Steve Link (of the Islands)
Wittnessed, written & submitted by Steve Link (of the Islands)
Well Rounded Angler
Jerry McKinnis, creator & host of " The Fish'n Hole"
I always admired the artistic form of fly fishing. Once Kenny got me back into fishing, I figured if I was going to be a true…well rounded… fisherman, I would need to learn to fly fish. So, years ago I taught myself the art of fly fishing.
It all started while I was watching the "Fish'n Hole" with Jerry McKinnis, on a cold, fall, Saturday morning, on ESPN. At the end of his show, Jerry introduced Joan Wuff, top Pro Fly Fisherperson and a 9 year old boy, to assist her with her fly fishing demonstration.
First, Joan showed the boy how to hold the rod and how to take line off the reel and lay it out on the surface of the water. Once all the line she wanted off the reel was out, she instructed the boy to lift the rod up to the 1:00 o'clock position. The boy followed the simple instruction. Then she told him to snap the pole down to the 9:00 o'clock position. When he did, the fly line swirled beautifully, up off the water and laid out straight across the surface of the pond, they were filming on. Joan informed the TV audience that this was called a roll cast and that it was all you needed to know to learn how to fly fish. I jumped up out of my chair and shouted at the television, "THAT'S EASY !"
Within the hour I found myself at the local Orvis fly fishing shop and outfitted myself with a nice 8 foot, 6 weight rod & reel. I also bought a 3M Scientific, Basic Fly Fishing VHS video. Once I brought my purchase home I sat down with all my new gear and watched and re-wound that video many times…putting my rod and reel together, putting the backing on the reel , then connecting the floating fly line. and finally tying the tipit on. I learned how to tie all the knots and watched intently the procedures on casting and how to do it right and how to screw it all up.
Anxious to try the roll cast and see if it was as easy as Joan had demonstrated, I went out in the front yard and practiced casting on the grass. I loved it ! The Roll Cast worked ! After I tired of practicing on grass, I ended up going down to the Little Miami River and casting a Wooly Booger, fly up stream and letting it float down thru a riffle. Pleased with my accomplishments, I was totally surprised when I ended up catching my first smallmouth bass on the fly.
Since then I have fly fished in places like Tennessee and the Carolinas but the Mad River, just north of Urbana, Ohio was about my favorite experience. I camped at the Birch Bark Canoe Livery near the Countyline Rd & Millerstown Rd intersection and caught nice Brown Trout there. I learned a lot…fly fishing for trout with dry flies and having to adapt and use a side cast when fishing under over hanging trees and even matching the hatch when tiny white moths landed on the waters' surface and I watched as the trout snapped them off the surface. Luckily I had a fly in my box that resembled this white moth and quickly tied it on. I made several great casts to the head of a set of rapids and watched as the fly floated thru them before tailing out. I picked up my line and casted again and again but the trout weren't having anything to do with my offering. I had no idea what I was doing wrong but continued casting. After one perfect cast, I shouted at the trout, "WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THAT?" With that said, a brown came up and took the fly and the fight was on. I went on and caught several more trout that evening and truely had a fantastic time !
I have had lots of fun fly fishing from my Poke Boat (kayak) on Landen Lake too. Making short casts and then longer... using poppers on the surface, I have caught nice largemouth bass on the fly rod. I get so carried away using the fly rod, I was neglecting all my other fishing tackle. I have to find a balance !
Writen by J.Scott Keniston
It all started while I was watching the "Fish'n Hole" with Jerry McKinnis, on a cold, fall, Saturday morning, on ESPN. At the end of his show, Jerry introduced Joan Wuff, top Pro Fly Fisherperson and a 9 year old boy, to assist her with her fly fishing demonstration.
First, Joan showed the boy how to hold the rod and how to take line off the reel and lay it out on the surface of the water. Once all the line she wanted off the reel was out, she instructed the boy to lift the rod up to the 1:00 o'clock position. The boy followed the simple instruction. Then she told him to snap the pole down to the 9:00 o'clock position. When he did, the fly line swirled beautifully, up off the water and laid out straight across the surface of the pond, they were filming on. Joan informed the TV audience that this was called a roll cast and that it was all you needed to know to learn how to fly fish. I jumped up out of my chair and shouted at the television, "THAT'S EASY !"
Within the hour I found myself at the local Orvis fly fishing shop and outfitted myself with a nice 8 foot, 6 weight rod & reel. I also bought a 3M Scientific, Basic Fly Fishing VHS video. Once I brought my purchase home I sat down with all my new gear and watched and re-wound that video many times…putting my rod and reel together, putting the backing on the reel , then connecting the floating fly line. and finally tying the tipit on. I learned how to tie all the knots and watched intently the procedures on casting and how to do it right and how to screw it all up.
Anxious to try the roll cast and see if it was as easy as Joan had demonstrated, I went out in the front yard and practiced casting on the grass. I loved it ! The Roll Cast worked ! After I tired of practicing on grass, I ended up going down to the Little Miami River and casting a Wooly Booger, fly up stream and letting it float down thru a riffle. Pleased with my accomplishments, I was totally surprised when I ended up catching my first smallmouth bass on the fly.
Since then I have fly fished in places like Tennessee and the Carolinas but the Mad River, just north of Urbana, Ohio was about my favorite experience. I camped at the Birch Bark Canoe Livery near the Countyline Rd & Millerstown Rd intersection and caught nice Brown Trout there. I learned a lot…fly fishing for trout with dry flies and having to adapt and use a side cast when fishing under over hanging trees and even matching the hatch when tiny white moths landed on the waters' surface and I watched as the trout snapped them off the surface. Luckily I had a fly in my box that resembled this white moth and quickly tied it on. I made several great casts to the head of a set of rapids and watched as the fly floated thru them before tailing out. I picked up my line and casted again and again but the trout weren't having anything to do with my offering. I had no idea what I was doing wrong but continued casting. After one perfect cast, I shouted at the trout, "WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THAT?" With that said, a brown came up and took the fly and the fight was on. I went on and caught several more trout that evening and truely had a fantastic time !
I have had lots of fun fly fishing from my Poke Boat (kayak) on Landen Lake too. Making short casts and then longer... using poppers on the surface, I have caught nice largemouth bass on the fly rod. I get so carried away using the fly rod, I was neglecting all my other fishing tackle. I have to find a balance !
Writen by J.Scott Keniston
Backyard Birds of Prey
Red Shouldered Hawk
It wasn’t long after Joyce and I moved to Woodfield, back in 1990, that we saw our first hawk visiting our backyard. I remember it well…we were sitting on the back porch talking, all the bird feeders were filled and the backyard was alive with bird activity. There were literally dozens of birds, drinking from the bird bath, feeding on the feeders and on the ground. Then…all of a sudden the startling sound of lots of wings beating in panic erupted from the yard and we turned to see what the commotion was ?
To our surprise, there sat an unknown species of hawk, with a Morning Dove clenched in its talons. We were amazed how a hawk could maneuver through the woods and pin-point its prey so accurately. No sooner had that thought passed and the hawk took flight, with dinner in hand and landed on a branch of a very old oak tree, in our neighbors’ backyard. The canopy of leaves shadowed the hawk and made it impossible for us to try and identify the specific species. Even with our 10x50 binoculars…it was still to dark to make out the necessary details for proper identification.
There was another time when we saw a hawk in the yard and none of the other birds cared. They went on about their business of eating, drinking, bathing and preening as the hawk just sat there, looking around. We wondered how they knew this hawk posed no threat to them ?
Over the years we have seen hawks sitting on our back fence, on the deck, on the railing around the deck and once when Joyce walked out on the deck, a hawk was sitting on a low branch of one of the trees next to the deck… they just stared at each other until the hawk flew away. We thought it was a Marsh Hawk until we found out this wasn’t the type of terrain they like and that a female Marsh Hawk looks a lot like a juvenile Red-Shouldered Hawk.
I remember one summer, sitting on the back deck and seeing a pair of hawks…obviously “twitter-pated”, (this is a technical term from Disney’s Bambi movie) chasing each other all around the woods and over our house. It was so cool seeing the pair chasing each other around but again, because of their speed and partly because of my colorblindness, I could never tell what species of hawk I was looking at.
I would see and hear hawks all around the lake as I fished. I decided to get a small pair of 10x26 binoculars to keep in my tackle box…in an attempt to identify some of these birds of prey. I would see several types of hawks flying around and across the lake. The only ones I could properly identify were the American Kestrel or Sparrow Hawk…because of its small size and characteristics and the Osprey, I’ve seen a few times at the lake.
The Osprey is easy for me to see with their black and white plumage and the black mask over their eyes. I love the way the sun glints off their feathers as they turn this way and that, as they circle the lake, in search for fish.
My greatest sighting ever was the juvenile Bald Eagle. I had no clue what I was looking at, as I sat there that Saturday morning…fishing out of my kayak. I had just caught and released a four pound bass and sat back to relax for a moment when I saw this HUGE dark bird swooping down and snagging a fish, bigger than the one I had just released…and then taking its catch across Landen Drive and perching in the top of a tree, as it began to eat it for breakfast.
I went home and poured over all the pictures in all the books I’ve collected and couldn’t figure out what I had just seen. I knew it wasn’t a vulture…this was way too big for that…Plus it was fishing and vultures are scavengers, not fishers…and the coloring was different than a vultures. Thank God for Google !!! After reading a vague description of what a juvenile Bald Eagle looks like, I ended up Googling it online and making the positive identification.
Earlier this summer, again, while sitting on the back deck, watching the birds feed and bathe…a hawk flew across the backyard and landed on a branch of a tree, just outside our fence line. Every bird in the yard sat motionless, where ever it was when the hawk flew in. Not one feather moved or head turned while the hawk surveyed the area. I didn’t move a muscle but my eyes darted from side to side to see all the birds standing stock-still. Finally the hawk took off from its perch and flew over our house. At that moment, every bird in the yard, got out of Dodge. Then the hawk flew back to its perch on the tree branch, this time with a squirrel in its talons. I didn’t dare move, for fear of scaring the hawk. I tried and tried to pick out distinguishing marks but couldn’t… but it was neat to see how all the other birds reacted when it came into the yard.
Lately, we have been seeing and hearing another hawk around our neighborhood and our backyard. We are happy to report that we have properly identified it as a juvenile Red Shouldered Hawk. Earlier this spring or summer, Carol, from Cobblestone, told me about a Red Shouldered Hawks’ nest in South Cove. We were never able to see the hawks in the nest but we did see the nest. Maybe this is one of their young, staking out a territory of their own, in Woodfield… Maybe ?
Written by J.Scott Keniston
To our surprise, there sat an unknown species of hawk, with a Morning Dove clenched in its talons. We were amazed how a hawk could maneuver through the woods and pin-point its prey so accurately. No sooner had that thought passed and the hawk took flight, with dinner in hand and landed on a branch of a very old oak tree, in our neighbors’ backyard. The canopy of leaves shadowed the hawk and made it impossible for us to try and identify the specific species. Even with our 10x50 binoculars…it was still to dark to make out the necessary details for proper identification.
There was another time when we saw a hawk in the yard and none of the other birds cared. They went on about their business of eating, drinking, bathing and preening as the hawk just sat there, looking around. We wondered how they knew this hawk posed no threat to them ?
Over the years we have seen hawks sitting on our back fence, on the deck, on the railing around the deck and once when Joyce walked out on the deck, a hawk was sitting on a low branch of one of the trees next to the deck… they just stared at each other until the hawk flew away. We thought it was a Marsh Hawk until we found out this wasn’t the type of terrain they like and that a female Marsh Hawk looks a lot like a juvenile Red-Shouldered Hawk.
I remember one summer, sitting on the back deck and seeing a pair of hawks…obviously “twitter-pated”, (this is a technical term from Disney’s Bambi movie) chasing each other all around the woods and over our house. It was so cool seeing the pair chasing each other around but again, because of their speed and partly because of my colorblindness, I could never tell what species of hawk I was looking at.
I would see and hear hawks all around the lake as I fished. I decided to get a small pair of 10x26 binoculars to keep in my tackle box…in an attempt to identify some of these birds of prey. I would see several types of hawks flying around and across the lake. The only ones I could properly identify were the American Kestrel or Sparrow Hawk…because of its small size and characteristics and the Osprey, I’ve seen a few times at the lake.
The Osprey is easy for me to see with their black and white plumage and the black mask over their eyes. I love the way the sun glints off their feathers as they turn this way and that, as they circle the lake, in search for fish.
My greatest sighting ever was the juvenile Bald Eagle. I had no clue what I was looking at, as I sat there that Saturday morning…fishing out of my kayak. I had just caught and released a four pound bass and sat back to relax for a moment when I saw this HUGE dark bird swooping down and snagging a fish, bigger than the one I had just released…and then taking its catch across Landen Drive and perching in the top of a tree, as it began to eat it for breakfast.
I went home and poured over all the pictures in all the books I’ve collected and couldn’t figure out what I had just seen. I knew it wasn’t a vulture…this was way too big for that…Plus it was fishing and vultures are scavengers, not fishers…and the coloring was different than a vultures. Thank God for Google !!! After reading a vague description of what a juvenile Bald Eagle looks like, I ended up Googling it online and making the positive identification.
Earlier this summer, again, while sitting on the back deck, watching the birds feed and bathe…a hawk flew across the backyard and landed on a branch of a tree, just outside our fence line. Every bird in the yard sat motionless, where ever it was when the hawk flew in. Not one feather moved or head turned while the hawk surveyed the area. I didn’t move a muscle but my eyes darted from side to side to see all the birds standing stock-still. Finally the hawk took off from its perch and flew over our house. At that moment, every bird in the yard, got out of Dodge. Then the hawk flew back to its perch on the tree branch, this time with a squirrel in its talons. I didn’t dare move, for fear of scaring the hawk. I tried and tried to pick out distinguishing marks but couldn’t… but it was neat to see how all the other birds reacted when it came into the yard.
Lately, we have been seeing and hearing another hawk around our neighborhood and our backyard. We are happy to report that we have properly identified it as a juvenile Red Shouldered Hawk. Earlier this spring or summer, Carol, from Cobblestone, told me about a Red Shouldered Hawks’ nest in South Cove. We were never able to see the hawks in the nest but we did see the nest. Maybe this is one of their young, staking out a territory of their own, in Woodfield… Maybe ?
Written by J.Scott Keniston