No trumpets blaring
No drums snaring
Only silence greets
A homeless pair
Looking for shelter.
A crude barn
With a cow looking out
A pile of hay
On which they could lay
But soon a sound
Woke the world thundering
And it was God’s son
Born while we’re wondering
What this meant for us
We poor ignorant cousins
Looking for hope
Of some kind to keep us
Safe from evil of a world gone mad
jpneale 12/22/10
Merry Christmas is here. Amen.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Trilby and the Roaring Rumbling Runaway River
He knew Spring was on the way, the ice was melting and the water began to move around him. He stretched his topmost fin and tested his swimming power. All systems in working order but now he had to eat. Too early for fishermen and their live bait and it was too early for the men from the fish hatchery. Trilby was always happy to see his new cousins pile out of that big noisy truck from the hatchery. Then the spring rains began and he had to swim for his life, the water was coming faster than he could swim so he relaxed under the hidden shelf of the riverbank and let it flow by him. The mother deer that lived in the neighboring woods came by with her fawn to have a drink; she spotted Trilby and winked at him. He did not want to leave his comfy hiding place, he knew if he ventured into the rushing water he would be pushed along so swiftly he might lose control and decided to try and for almost a day he let the water take him and the wooly bear that landed on his back onward. The caterpillar had wisely jumped to a leaf to keep her feet and fur dry and before they knew it, they were in the reservoir at West Boylston. Trilby looked around and saw some of his missing cousins who left home in Quinapoxet just before the freeze. They were glad to see him and took him to their favorite shelter under the shore away from people. Fishing was actually restricted at water supply lakes making this lake almost without fishermen and Trilby was very hungry. So his cousins took him to their secret eating-place. There were all kinds of mayfly nymphs waiting to hatch and be caught. It wouldn’t be long before the air would be alive with mayflies skimming over the water. Trilby’s friend Bill a favorite angler would soon be arriving with his boots and poles and fishing lures. He liked this man because he did not fish to feed himself but for the sport of catching a fish and each time Trilby was hooked on his lure, Bill reached down and carefully unhooked him setting him free. Part of the fun of being caught was to see the colorful flies that Bill made.
The brown trout cousins did not appreciate Trilby’s liking for this fisherman and decided to play a trick on both the man and the fish. A special place down by the pumping station had some big brown sticks that looked like fish so they pushed and shoved with all fins working until finally the sticks were arranged so that even Trilby thought they were ugly brown trout. He, of course was a Rainbow and proud of it.
A car stopped on the road above the reservoir and sure enough a fisherman came down the path whistling. Most fishermen whistle, there is something about fishing that makes men and boys happy, Trilby thought maybe that was one reason he did not mind being caught.
The fisherman, this time another Bill, got all his gear ready, waded into the water not too far from the fish-like branches that were so carefully positioned. He had a gleam in his eye, could not wait to get his lure into the water and catch one of those brown (branch) trout. The trick meant for Trilby was about to backfire. Bill’s boot hit one of the branches and when it did not swim away he realized he was being tricked. Then Trilby did one of his famous leaps out of the water just like Winslow Homer’s painting, diverting Bill’s attention; the day was saved! Trilby found more mayfly nymphs attached to the fake fish branches. The disgusted fisherman walked out of the water and made his way up the path, angry that he had been tricked. He drove away toward the river and left all those fish behind. He knew a better place to fish upstream of the reservoir. Where do you think that was? You are right! up the Quinnie River. Soon he was happy to see mother frog leading her tadpoles to their new home upriver. As they swam along people appeared at the entrance to the town well property. There was an opening in the bushes where they liked to come in the early winter for black alder berries and in summer to see the bottle gentian, a rare treat.And Trilby swam back up the stream to his hiding place under the shelf and continued to watch the world swim by.
J.P. NEALE
The brown trout cousins did not appreciate Trilby’s liking for this fisherman and decided to play a trick on both the man and the fish. A special place down by the pumping station had some big brown sticks that looked like fish so they pushed and shoved with all fins working until finally the sticks were arranged so that even Trilby thought they were ugly brown trout. He, of course was a Rainbow and proud of it.
A car stopped on the road above the reservoir and sure enough a fisherman came down the path whistling. Most fishermen whistle, there is something about fishing that makes men and boys happy, Trilby thought maybe that was one reason he did not mind being caught.
The fisherman, this time another Bill, got all his gear ready, waded into the water not too far from the fish-like branches that were so carefully positioned. He had a gleam in his eye, could not wait to get his lure into the water and catch one of those brown (branch) trout. The trick meant for Trilby was about to backfire. Bill’s boot hit one of the branches and when it did not swim away he realized he was being tricked. Then Trilby did one of his famous leaps out of the water just like Winslow Homer’s painting, diverting Bill’s attention; the day was saved! Trilby found more mayfly nymphs attached to the fake fish branches. The disgusted fisherman walked out of the water and made his way up the path, angry that he had been tricked. He drove away toward the river and left all those fish behind. He knew a better place to fish upstream of the reservoir. Where do you think that was? You are right! up the Quinnie River. Soon he was happy to see mother frog leading her tadpoles to their new home upriver. As they swam along people appeared at the entrance to the town well property. There was an opening in the bushes where they liked to come in the early winter for black alder berries and in summer to see the bottle gentian, a rare treat.And Trilby swam back up the stream to his hiding place under the shelf and continued to watch the world swim by.
J.P. NEALE
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