When fishing the pond, I always expected Lee Wulff to fly in. There was an older couple driving a Buick who did show up and fished for bluegills, bass and perch with fly rods. They would tell me stories about another fabled haven of real fishing the Adirondacks. Spent most of my youth dreaming about all those lakes, rivers and ponds up north. By the time I was 18 and the opportunity arose to go to forestry college up north, I leaped at the chance to spend my extra hours idly fly fishing for brook trout, then the reality of attending classes, the long and snowy winters showed how really short the season was. I went fishing but never to the extent I originally intended. I did have a professor how taught a wildlife management class who spent as much time on where to catch trout and the best type of cover for grouse as he did in population dynamics. He never bypassed road kill, fly tying material or dinner if it was fresh and not too mangled.
Back at the pond I can still see my Aunt Etta (her nickname, my great grandfather apparently like to assign names at his leisure) calling everyone in for dinner. Mmmm, frogs legs, venison meatballs and wood chuck stew! Dig in the squirrel is fresh, Kelsy just shot them yesterday!
Labrador Pond today
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