I was 10 years old when dad and I paddled our way through the pre-dawn darkness to the far end of a nearby pond. My father sat in the back, guiding us through weeds and floating debris. I was in the front and aware of everything—the sound of the water dripping from our paddles, the smell of the muddy water. Suddenly, the stillness was shattered a loud thwap. A monstrous ball of fur, not happy about our presence, slapped its tail on the surface and swam away. My father reassured me it was only a beaver.
Arriving at a small island in the middle of dead trees dotting the water and reaching up to the sky, we made ourselves busy hiding the canoe, then put out the decoys that would hopefully…
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Game & Fish East (Digital) - 1 Issue, December/January 2024-25