Jeff and Addi had spotted some big fish in the hole at the base of the dam, so we canoed down there this morning ready to fish ourselves silly. Within minutes, I had caught an average sized striped bass followed by a much larger striper and we had seen some monsters lurking below us.
We didn't get to catch them though. As I was dropping the big guy back in the water (no chance for a picture even, I swear!) we heard a piercing whistle and looked to see someone waving us to the shore.
It was a guy in uniform, with guns on his hips, and a citation book in his hand.
He said we were in a restricted area and he had to write us a ticket... "We're not allowed to issue warnings for restricted areas blah, blah, blah."
I hardly heard him since I was hyperventilating because we had broken the law. I hate to get in trouble.
He was nice enough, really. Since we were married, he was willing to give us a two-for-one deal and only issue one citation.
Lucky for us, it was issued to Jeff.
The dude asked for Jeff's hair color, work phone number, and place of employment.
When Jeff answered that last question, the BRA guy said "Dam (but with the n on the end), I can't write you a ticket! You're a dam (again, with the n) firefighter!"
Turns out, those guys can write fake tickets that keep themselves from getting in trouble but that have no penalty for firefighters and other such heroes.
While Jeff signed his fake ticket, we picked his brain on how to legally hunt in our neighborhood (gotta stay in the natural river bed), when they let water out of the dam (no n), and where the best fishing holes are.
Then we got his number and invited him over for dinner.
Not really. Instead, we got the heck out of the restricted area and back on legal waters.
No more big stripers. I did catch all these minnows though.
It was a guy in uniform, with guns on his hips, and a citation book in his hand.
He said we were in a restricted area and he had to write us a ticket... "We're not allowed to issue warnings for restricted areas blah, blah, blah."
I hardly heard him since I was hyperventilating because we had broken the law. I hate to get in trouble.
He was nice enough, really. Since we were married, he was willing to give us a two-for-one deal and only issue one citation.
Lucky for us, it was issued to Jeff.
The dude asked for Jeff's hair color, work phone number, and place of employment.
When Jeff answered that last question, the BRA guy said "Dam (but with the n on the end), I can't write you a ticket! You're a dam (again, with the n) firefighter!"
Turns out, those guys can write fake tickets that keep themselves from getting in trouble but that have no penalty for firefighters and other such heroes.
While Jeff signed his fake ticket, we picked his brain on how to legally hunt in our neighborhood (gotta stay in the natural river bed), when they let water out of the dam (no n), and where the best fishing holes are.
Then we got his number and invited him over for dinner.
Not really. Instead, we got the heck out of the restricted area and back on legal waters.
No more big stripers. I did catch all these minnows though.
Caught 'em all bare handed.
Not really.
So that was our close call---tickets are budget breakers.
The daring rescue came as we canoed our way back home.
This little cutie was out for a swim...
I know the picture is quite fuzzy but that's because I was snapping the picture while I tossed the camera down. See, I noticed that this young raccoon was having some troubles. He was flat out exhausted and couldn't find his way back to shore. Good thing a hero and his softy wife came along and we rescued him right out of the water.
I know that some of you (ahem, fellow Greenlee hunters) would rather we had let the beast drown. But I had a pet raccoon as a kid and have a soft spot for the little thieves.
There are no pics of the rescue because we were in full out life saving mode. Jeff paddled furiously to the shore while I balanced the little guy on the very end of my paddle, far away from our canoe. I know very well that wild raccoons are about as mean as can be so you never, ever grab one, not even a very tired one.
He, actually she, stared daggers at me the entire time. Then she fell off my paddle right as we got to the shore and Jeff grabbed her tail to set her on land. Raccoons don't like being held by their tails, even very tired ones.
We scooted it way up on the shore to recover. Poor thing was so tired it kept falling over. Hopefully all she needed was rest. I tossed the rest of our minnows up on shore for it to eat when it got hungry.
So that was our close call---tickets are budget breakers.
The daring rescue came as we canoed our way back home.
This little cutie was out for a swim...
I know the picture is quite fuzzy but that's because I was snapping the picture while I tossed the camera down. See, I noticed that this young raccoon was having some troubles. He was flat out exhausted and couldn't find his way back to shore. Good thing a hero and his softy wife came along and we rescued him right out of the water.
I know that some of you (ahem, fellow Greenlee hunters) would rather we had let the beast drown. But I had a pet raccoon as a kid and have a soft spot for the little thieves.
There are no pics of the rescue because we were in full out life saving mode. Jeff paddled furiously to the shore while I balanced the little guy on the very end of my paddle, far away from our canoe. I know very well that wild raccoons are about as mean as can be so you never, ever grab one, not even a very tired one.
He, actually she, stared daggers at me the entire time. Then she fell off my paddle right as we got to the shore and Jeff grabbed her tail to set her on land. Raccoons don't like being held by their tails, even very tired ones.
We scooted it way up on the shore to recover. Poor thing was so tired it kept falling over. Hopefully all she needed was rest. I tossed the rest of our minnows up on shore for it to eat when it got hungry.
Funnily enough, I'll save a raccoon from drowning but I had no problem leaving 4 minnows gasping for air on the shore.
Just thought of that. I feel a little guilty now. Shoot!
Hopefully the little raccoon survived its recovery and will be stealing corn from hunters come fall.
Just thought of that. I feel a little guilty now. Shoot!
Hopefully the little raccoon survived its recovery and will be stealing corn from hunters come fall.
Addi and I prayed for her tonight. God does most definitely care about His creation, including raccoons.
Probably including minnows, too. Sigh.
4 comments:
Hilarious! Didn't anyone tell you that you can't hunt or fish in a residential neighborhood? Welcome to suburbia! Haha!
Do you think the monster fish would be there if not protected? Being a smoke eater has its benefits, we never ever wrote up a fireman, he might be working when your house caught on fire, same thing for Docs and ER nurses.
I am glad you blog so there will be historical documentation of the Durand saga for future generations.
That is a hysterical post! I enjoy reading your blog so much, you all have so much fun together!
I am so glad you saved the raccoon - even though Bandit was a pest he sure was fun and I have to say I have a soft spot for the little things as well.
Post a Comment