The Journal Register (Medina, NY)


July 13, 2011

VALLEY: Huckleberry fish hound


A couple of weeks ago I was in my boat fishing in the middle of the St. Lawrence River. The boat is a modest 17-foot craft — I bought it from my friend Ralph. It has fewer bells and whistles than a piece of cheese, but it’s mine and it floats.

I was positioned in my “go-to” spot and comfortable in my own little world. I had my dog, Maggie, a transistor radio with the Yankee game on and a cooler with beverages and snacks. Life is good but some days are better than others and this was one of those days.

I’d been anchored for awhile when two boats approached. Each had a couple of guys aboard and it was apparent that they were together. Both vessels were fancy looking rigs. Neither looked familiar.

Most of the time, I recognize the boats from the area from the mere fact that I see them on a regular basis. I don’t necessarily know all of the owners personally but there is a common bond — an unspoken camaraderie and acknowledgment — that exists with those on the river. It’s a “we’re all in this together” approach that ingrains civility as a way of life. Good neighbors make everything less complicated.

Back to the story. I was near a small island and both boats decided to anchor and fish close by. No problem. But, apparently, these guys weren’t river-savvy enough to know that I could hear every word they were saying. (If you aren’t aware, a person’s voice carries quite well when you’re on the water.)

They talked back and forth between the boats and I heard one of them say, “Check the huckleberry out over there with the dog.” An obvious reference to me.

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