Patrick Blaine Journal

Blue Jay

2009-12-16T23:09:00.002-06:00

New Flickr Photo Set: Kayaking the Mississippi Gorge

2009-12-15T18:41:00.004-06:00

Click here to see a new photo set on Flickr.

New Flickr Photo Set: Kayaking the Mississippi From Itasca to Iron Bridge Landing

2009-12-15T15:58:00.003-06:00

Click here to see a new photo set on Flickr.

Train Wheels

2009-12-15T13:53:00.002-06:00

Fallen Tree

2009-12-14T12:47:00.002-06:00

Chipmunk with Full Cheeks

2009-12-14T12:41:00.003-06:00

Epoxy Art: Fluid Chromatic #103

2009-12-11T14:12:00.001-06:00

Old Buck on Mississippi River

2009-12-08T21:09:00.011-06:00

While I was taking photos of an accommodating heron from my kayak, I saw an old Buck and a Doe nestled in the weeds on the bank of an inlet that connects the Mississippi and the Minnesota rivers. I decided to go up on shore to see if I could get a couple of photos of them before they fled.

Much to my surprise, the old buck didn't flee.

Old Buck on Pike Island

2009-12-08T20:53:00.009-06:00

Old Buck Stands His Ground

2009-12-08T20:47:00.003-06:00

He just stood there looking peevish.

Old Buck Gives me the Stink Eye

2009-12-08T20:42:00.004-06:00

Perhaps he noticed that I am a Van Buren Boy, because he uncorked a hellacious stink eye.

Old Buck Squares Off

2009-12-08T20:34:00.006-06:00

He hoofed it over to where I was standing and stationed himself between me and the doe. He looked agitated and kept putting his head down.

Old Buck Challenges Me

2009-12-08T20:25:00.008-06:00

Then he started to stamp the ground and snort and flap his nostrils.

Obviously, he didn't like the cut of my jib.

Old Buck and Doe Walk Away

2009-12-08T20:09:00.007-06:00

I stood still with my back to a little grove of saplings and kept taking photos. After a few minutes of posturing, he decided to walk away peacefully. Which is good, because I would have thrown hands.

The Abominable Waterman

2009-12-08T19:57:00.004-06:00

Heron Flying through a Little Backwater on the Mississippi

2009-12-08T19:44:00.004-06:00

Cat Tail Reflection on Round Lake

2009-12-08T19:37:00.002-06:00

My Old Pirogue

2009-12-07T11:02:00.013-06:00

When I was a kid, my Creole uncle from down on the Mississippi Delta gave me this little eleven-foot Cajun pirogue. Since then I've paddled it hundreds of miles in Minnesota. I leech trapped with it. I fished out of it. I used to stand up in it and pole through the wild rice fields on the Ottertail river and Albertson lake. I took lots of pictures from it. Every spring I took it out early and floated with the ice barges on the river. I never wore a life jacket nor had warm protective clothes. I never tipped over.

My pirogue was a safe haven in the conflagrations of the past.

When I was in Junior High, it was stolen twice. Once I recovered it on the other side of the lake. The next time, I heard some kids who lived upstream on the Ottertail river had stolen it and had it on the riverbank behind their house. My dad and I put another boat in upstream from their house, floated down, stole my boat back from the country-fried rubes, and paddled miles back down to our house.

For a boat more than fifty years old made of quarter-inch marine plywood, it's still in remarkably good shape. I'm going to fix it up with new fiberglass seams and a fresh coat of duck boat drab. Maybe, I'll take it out for a paddle a couple of times next summer.

The Old Aft Agley Studio

2009-12-06T19:30:00.003-06:00

Epoxy Art: Fluid Chromatic #128

2009-12-05T23:46:00.004-06:00

Starkley Duncans Diatribe: Psychics

2009-12-05T22:28:00.003-06:00

Bridge Troll

2009-12-05T17:55:00.002-06:00

Mallards on the Mississippi

2009-12-05T16:59:00.001-06:00

Bridge Cathedral

2009-12-05T16:57:00.001-06:00

Same Bridge Different Cathedral

2009-12-05T16:53:00.002-06:00

Old Clay Pipe Stream on Mississippi

2009-12-05T14:38:00.004-06:00

A pleasant spot to have a little rest.

A View of the Saint Paul Cathedral from the Mississippi River

2009-12-05T14:08:00.001-06:00

Bridges of Phalen Creek

2009-12-04T22:40:00.002-06:00

Heron on a Fallen Cottonwood

2009-12-04T22:29:00.003-06:00

Heron Taking Flight

2009-12-04T22:25:00.002-06:00

My Epoxy Painting Studio

2009-12-04T21:02:00.001-06:00

Epoxy Art: Fluid Chromatic # 89

2009-12-04T20:26:00.002-06:00

Starkley Duncan's Diatribe: Identical Twins

2009-12-03T10:41:00.003-06:00

Reflections and Mirror Images: A Kayak Tour of Round Lake

2009-12-03T09:40:00.005-06:00

To see my new photo set on Flickr, click the link below.

Reflection and Reality III

All photos were taken from a kayak on Round Lake, a very small lake connected to Lake Phalen in St. Paul, Minnesota.

Chipmunk Wallpaper

2009-12-03T09:32:00.005-06:00

Click the link below to see my new chipmunk photo set on Flickr.

Chipmunks

Mourning the Season

2009-12-02T13:30:00.005-06:00

Itasca, Spring 2009.

The kayaking has been good this summer, sometimes difficult, but always good. I'm not ready for the season to end but winter is coming. If I don't get out for another paddle, December 1st will have been my last outing of 2009. Time to make plans for next summer.

Yard Squirrel with a Handsome Tail

2009-12-01T09:45:00.003-06:00

Barracks at Fort Snelling in Late Fall

2009-12-01T01:02:00.004-06:00

Muggletonian View of Mendota Bridge

2009-11-30T21:49:00.002-06:00

Hidden Buddha

2009-11-30T21:38:00.003-06:00

Thin Ice on Phalen Creek

2009-11-30T17:50:00.003-06:00

The world of kayaking is beginning to contract. Weather permitting, I'm going to go out on the Mississippi tomorrow for my first December paddle.

The Glasses of Sauron

2009-11-29T21:31:00.003-06:00

Gulls on an Old Dock at Lake Phalen

2009-11-29T21:02:00.002-06:00

Curious Doe on the River Bank

2009-11-29T18:13:00.002-06:00

Curious Heron in the River

2009-11-29T18:12:00.001-06:00

Curious Double-Breasted Split-Bill Platypus in the Creek

2009-11-29T18:08:00.004-06:00

Starkley Duncan's Diatribe: Chicken Fling

2009-11-28T19:57:00.002-06:00

Swimming with Garp

2009-11-28T19:42:00.008-06:00

I messed with the undertoad.

First you feel the sand being sucked out from around your feet. You start straining to grip bottom with the tips of your toes. Then you can't touch the bottom. You start to swim as hard as you can. Suddenly, the shore disappears. A wave crashes down on you forcing you underwater. You catch a glimpse of a more distant shore. And you're churned by another wave and another, and shore looks so far away.

You don't mess with the undertoad.

Epoxy Art: Fluid Chromatic #91

2009-11-28T19:39:00.002-06:00

Packet Boats Moored in Saint Paul

2009-11-26T09:55:00.001-06:00

Kayaking Under a Train

2009-11-26T09:53:00.002-06:00

Views of Saint Paul from My Kayak

2009-11-24T23:12:00.006-06:00

Kayaking Phalen Creek: Reflection and Reality II on Flickr

2009-11-23T15:38:00.004-06:00

An unusual kayak tour of Phalen Creek and Lake Phalen in St. Paul, Minnesota.

Click the link below to see more photos:

Reflection and Reality II

A View of Minneapolis from the Railroad Tracks

2009-11-23T11:05:00.002-06:00

Starkley Duncan's Diatribe

2009-11-20T22:32:00.004-06:00

Epoxy Art: Fluid Chromatic # 92

2009-11-20T22:23:00.002-06:00

Click here to see a slide show of my Fluid Chromatics Epoxy Paintings.

A View on the Mississippi in November

2009-11-19T20:27:00.002-06:00

Epoxy Art: Fluid Chromatic #113

2009-11-17T19:42:00.003-06:00

Click here to see a slide show of my Fluid Chromatics Epoxy Paintings.

Graffitti on the Mississippi

2009-11-17T12:46:00.007-06:00

I'm not sure if this graffito (petroglyph) was carved by an American Indian or whether it is much more recent. It is located between Minneapolis and St. Paul. I saw at least one other petroglyph of a snake in the immediate area, but didn't take a photo of it. Next year.

Watergate Marina

2009-11-17T12:18:00.005-06:00

The Watergate Marina is a protected little cove just to the left around this rocky shore. When I paddle down to St. Paul, I sometimes sail through thinking about how great it would be to live down there on a houseboat. Then I think about Sausalito.

A melancholy sight. The boats are mostly gone as winter approaches.

Kayaking Around Pike Island

2009-11-17T10:51:00.004-06:00

This is a view of the Minnesota River just upstream from its confluence with the Mississippi River. Pike Island is on the left.

A Frosty Morning on the Mississippi

2009-11-16T15:38:00.001-06:00

Starkley Duncan's Diatribe: Chicken Soup for the Golfer's Soul

2009-11-15T18:48:00.001-06:00

A Note to Hollywood

2009-11-13T21:45:00.003-06:00

Isn't it high time we had another Dabney Coleman sit-com?

Epoxy Art: Fluid Chromatic #88

2009-11-13T19:21:00.002-06:00

Click here to see a slide show of my Fluid Chromatics Epoxy Paintings.

An Old Photo of Daisy Doux, the Jack Russell Terrier

2009-11-13T17:13:00.000-06:00

My First Studio

2009-11-13T16:40:00.004-06:00

Back in 1986 while at college, I lived in a triplex with my brother and a friend across the street from Bierman Field at the University. All I could think about back in those days was painting. I couldn't stand the sight of any of my belongings. I just wanted to be in an empty, impersonal room with canvas and paint.

As summer approached I rented out our living room, the room my pal vacated, and my own bedroom upstairs. Then I moved into the basement where I could live rent free and could afford to paint to my heart's content all summer unencumbered by possessions or distractions.

I lived like a hermit down there, alone and ferile, painting from "morning sun till dine." The girl I was dating at the time would sometimes come to stay on weekends. Often she was my only meaningful contact with the world above ground for days at a time.

I loved my studio. There were rats and centipedes to contend with, but I had my own waterfall when it rained. I removed the glass from the window and stapled a swatch of screen across the opening. The summer was a rainy one. When it rained water cascaded down the wall and pooled around the floor drain. I slept on a foam pad near the window well. At night when thunderstorms rumbled over, the sensation of water spray gently spattering my face would awaken me. I'd get up and paint until dawn. Those were nights to remember.

I Suffered for this Damn Photo

2009-11-13T14:56:00.004-06:00

Paddling up the Mississippi the other day, I spotted this immature bald eagle in a tree overhanging the river. I manuevered my kayak into a shallow area and leaned over so that the bottom of the boat was nestled up on the rocks.

I sat there craning my neck upward with the camera pressed to my eye with my finger on the shutter poised to snap a photo the instant the eagle went aerial. This time I was going to get the photo.

Of course, the young eagle decided to hunker down for a while and refused to cooperate. No matter what noise I made it wouldn't budge. As I was sitting there, I heard a boat motor by but was concentrating with every fiber in my being. All of a sudden the boat's wake hit. My kayak started to rock and crash against the rocky bottom. Then the waves started to break over the deck and ice-cold water started to flood the cockpit. At that moment, the eagle decided to fly. I ended up soaked, cold, and all I got was this damned photo.

A November Afternoon on the Mississippi River and a New Photo Set on Flickr

2009-11-13T11:32:00.005-06:00

Monday was a still, beautiful day. Fortunately, I had the day off and decided to hit the river in my kayak. What an afternoon it was. I saw two eagles, four deer, several herons, an owl, a fox squirrel, and a flock of wild turkeys all in the space of four miles and four hours. Surprisingly, most were willing to pose for pictures. I put up a new photo set on flickr with some of the better wildlife photos I took on that memorable day. Click the link below to see the photos.

An Afternoon on the Mississippi River

Lunch and a Rest just Upstream from Downtown Saint Paul

2009-11-12T16:52:00.004-06:00

A Heron Takes Flight on the Mississippi

2009-11-12T12:41:00.004-06:00

Reflections in Water on a Still Day on an Inlet of the Mississippi

2009-11-11T23:39:00.011-06:00

The other day on the river was one of those still days where the water holds a beautiful, near-perfect reflection of the land and sky creating the illusion of an ethereal floating world, illusory and dizzying.

I put up a new photo set on flickr. Some of the photos are regular photos like this one. Others, I combined an image with its mirror image to create an abstract image.

To see the photo set, click here.

Epoxy Art: My Favorite Spiral Painting

2009-11-11T18:01:00.004-06:00

Click here to see a slide show of my Fluid Chromatics Epoxy Paintings.

Starkley Duncan's Diatribe: Bad Shower

2009-11-08T18:13:00.003-06:00

November Paddle on the Mississippi

2009-11-05T21:04:00.003-06:00

Today, I paddled from Hidden Falls to downtown St. Paul and back. The current was fairly strong on the way back upstream. I had to criss-cross the river to keep to the leeward side and use the eddies as much as possible.

Attempted Tea on a Sandbar Across from a Bluff on the Mississippi

2009-11-04T22:54:00.013-06:00

This pretty little bluff is a popular look-out spot near the terminus of Summit Avenue.

The first time I came here was by water. On a spring morning during my freshman year at university, I cast myself into the river in what would be my second and final voyage in a cheap inflatable life raft. As I approached the point, I was losing air pressure fast and made haste quickly to shore. I tugged the flaccid vessel from the water and legged it miles back to the dorm. What a fine day.

A few years later, after a ten-day stopover in the hospital with pneumonia, pleurisy, and blood clots in both legs and my lung, I used to sit on this perch and think about the life I nearly lost. I haunted the shore searching for fossils and sitting near a little waterfall in the ravine weighted with indecision and self-doubt. Death was a little closer and my emotions were elemental and raw. I'll always think about the things that happened that winter and spring until the end, and often.

Recently, I stopped to have tea on this sand bar across the river from the bluff as I had done with Rosie in my pirogue a few years back. I assembled my stove, started water, and sat on a driftwood log. While I poured a packet of gingered powdered milk into the boiling water and I realized that I had forgetten the tea. A tough choice. I could sit on the banks of the Big Muddy drinking hot powdered milk and ginger and grimacing like a schnook. Or I could lay back and do a little woolgathering. As all days are, it was a fine day to reminisce.

Epoxy Art: Fluid Chromatic #96

2009-11-03T10:09:00.002-06:00

Click here to see a slide show of my Fluid Chromatics Epoxy Paintings.

Chipmunk Rock Sunflower Seed

2009-11-02T22:26:00.002-06:00

Chipmunk on the Rocks

2009-11-02T22:18:00.004-06:00

The Mendota Bridge

2009-11-02T18:04:00.004-06:00

A photo of the Mendota bridge taken from a little canal that runs between the Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers and forms one of the borders of Pike Island.

A historic photo showing the construction of the Mendota bridge
A historic photo showing an aerial view of the area around the Mendota bridge
A historic photo showing boats near the Mendota bridge
A historic photo of the Mendota bridge

Edie the Developmentally-Delayed Beagle

2009-11-02T16:57:00.003-06:00

Edie began her life in a puppy mill somewhere in the state of New York. The University of Minnesota Veterinary department purchased her for use in research on the efficacy of a new cancer medication. So for the first two or three years of her life, she lived in a small kennel in a little room with nine other individually caged beagles. When they were allowed to romp out in the middle of the room, they would hump each other with gusto in chains of three or four. They were named A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I, and J. Each of the dogs was given the medicine, then bone marrow samples were taken.

Jen saw a sign advertising that the veterinary school was giving the dogs to good homes while she was doing computer support. We felt bad for the poor beagles and decided to adopt the beagle named E, and called her Edie.

Poor little Edie had never run in grass. She would shoot off with abandon only to take a tumble a few strides later. We quickly started to notice that Edie had significant developmental delays, such as being unable to figure out how to get around a tree blocking her path. She peed and pooped in her bed and all over the house without compunction. Her vision was so poor that if you gave her a treat she would just snap wildly at your hand. And, to be honest, she wasn't the sharpest arrow in the quiver.

As the years passed she made slow improvement. She learned some new tricks by watching the other dogs. With a lot of patience and repetition the conditioning of her past faded and she got closer to being a normal dog. She was still a bit of a burden, and not the most fun dog to have, but she had a good time. She had her endearing moments, like when she learned to sit up on her hind legs to ask for attention. She loved a good pat and went wild for a good nosh and a long sniff while out on a walk. After ten years or so, she died of kidney disease. In many ways it was a relief, but we were both happy to know she had some good years after the misery of her youth.

A Great Place for a Cup of Tea

2009-11-02T16:39:00.002-06:00

Vintage Campers

2009-11-01T16:53:00.008-06:00

One of my favorite sites to visit when I've got some extra time to woolgather is http://www.vintagecampers.com/ My favorite vintage campers are the old Spartan trailers like this one. I would love to have one of these in my backyard to go out and sit in whenever I feel the urge. I could go out with a cup of coffee on cold fall days and sit at the kitchen table, look out the window, let my eye wander over the interior, and smile with satisfaction. Maybe I'd bring a pen and notepad, maybe not.

Chipmunk

2009-10-31T21:57:00.002-05:00

Starkley Duncan's Diatribe: Cool

2009-10-31T20:42:00.005-05:00

One day I was checking out the posts at fark.com when I saw a link about the word "cool." I followed the link to an article in an Eastern newspaper. The author of the article reiterated the script from this cartoon. I sent an email to the editor declaring in the immortal words of Crusty the Clown, "if this is anyone but Steve Allen you are stealing my bit." I never heard back from him and didn't too much care.

Epoxy Art: Fluid Chromatic # 50

2009-10-30T14:18:00.003-05:00

Click here to see a slide show of my Fluid Chromatics Epoxy Paintings.

On the River Below an Overhanging Tree: Another Eagle Photo

2009-10-29T23:35:00.004-05:00

A Silly Cartoon

2009-10-29T16:51:00.004-05:00

Views from My Cupola on a Fine Fall Day

2009-10-27T20:12:00.006-05:00

Today was one of those beautiful windy fall days that make it a pure joy to be alive, and free, and not in pain. Working in my studio today, I played Cavalleria Rusticana and the Psychedelic Furs. I got so nostalgic I drove to the University to take some photos of my old haunts. It was a good day.

Two Views of My Cupola on a Beautiful Fall Day

2009-10-27T18:24:00.019-05:00

Tucked beneath the serpentine branches of two gnarled white oaks, my garret studio runs the length of our house. The previous owner was a man of another era who believed that when one is inside, one is inside--and that if one wants to see the outdoors one has just to step out the front door. Thus he had covered up the windows at each end of the attic from the outside with steel siding, along with seven other windows and one door downstairs. When we moved in one of my first horrible undertakings was to restore the windows so that the attic would be usable again. For a few miserable hours I'm glad to have behind me, I clung to a tall ladder with one arm outstretched clutching a whirring circular saw with an abrasive, metal cutting blade. Showers of sparks flew in all directions burning the hair off my arms and buffeting my safety glasses. Slowed by lamentable bouts of cursing, I got the job done.

After remodeling the interior, which is another tale full of sound and fury, I was safely ensconced, nestled under the cozy steep embrace of my tight fastness before the first snows of winter fell. I spent a glorious winter drawing and painting. But as the heat of late spring bore down upon our little house, my wings grew smudgy and moist and began to adhere to cartoons I was drawing. I realized that there still was not enough ventilation, unless I ran the air conditioner all the time.

My first remedy was farcical. I bought an industrial strength fan and inadvertently turned my studio into a wind tunnel that almost saw me clinging to the chimney outstretched like Gilligan in a wind storm. Even set on low, unfettered papers flew from my desk. I started bringing in rocks from the yard to augment my meager supply of paperweights. Then one day, hunched over, back to the blast, cupping my hands and trying to kindle the leaves and stibble of a little verdant inspiration, I burned one of my eyebrows off. Something had to give.

So I built this cupola which provides cool breeze in summer and soft light year around.

Crummy Photos of Eagles on the River

2009-10-26T21:51:00.010-05:00

The eagles were out fishing on the Mississippi and Minnesota rivers this afternoon. When I was out kayaking today, I saw three eagles a few miles upstream from Saint Paul. I managed to get a few photos of this eagle and an immature bald eagle. None of them are particularly good. You can imagine my chagrin when I downloaded the photos and saw that the photo of the eagle taking off is blurry. Holding up a camera to your eye and trying to keep it in focus as the current sweeps you under the tree, all while you try to keep the boat straight by dragging the paddle tucked in your armpit is a challenge. My kayak feels amazingly tippy in these situations.

I always try not to look at birds when I approach them. Usually I don't look because I feel bad about disturbing them, and they seem to have an if-you-don't-look-we-won't-fly policy in place. An eagle's vision is so acute though that I'm sure they can see my beady little eyes darting around my head furtively at a half mile away. It amuses me to think they are facetiously thinking, "yeah right, I don't see what you're doing there, you country-fried rube."

More Photos of Lock and Dam No. 1 on the Mississippi River

2009-10-26T11:59:00.007-05:00

Approaching Lock and Dam No. 1 (Ford Dam) with the Street Bridge upstream above the dam.

View while sitting in my kayak waiting for the water to begin to rise to the level of the river above the dam.

A historic photo showing the construction of Lock and Dam No. 1
A historic photo showing the construction of Lock and Dam No. 1
A historic photo showing the construction of Lock and Dam No. 1

Epoxy Art: Fluid Chromatic #127: Concentric Rings

2009-10-25T15:24:00.003-05:00

Click here to see a slide show of my Fluid Chromatics Epoxy Paintings.

Starkley Duncan's Diatribe with a Scorching Letter to the Editor

2009-10-25T13:18:00.010-05:00

This letter to the editor made my day when I read it. Apparently when Marge read the paper, she didn't disapprove of the self-righteous, holier-than-thou articles paid for by cigarette ads. Nor did she have a beef with the decidedly unwholesome pictures of scantily clad women presented as the objects of dark desires, offering to sell their company to any and all takers. But when she read the words, "suck my dick," scribbled by a silly cartoonist in an exceedingly silly cartoon . . . well . . . not on her watch. Then again, maybe Marge is Hulk Hogan's agent.

Fortune Cookie Goodness

2009-10-25T13:12:00.002-05:00

What has been implied here?

Sweet Chipmunk

2009-10-23T23:06:00.003-05:00

I'm glad to put that sordid little episode behind us.

Kayaking the Mississippi: Lock and Dam No. 1

2009-10-23T18:07:00.005-05:00

I was amazed when I found out that U.S. Army Corps of Engineers allows lone kayakers to go through the locks. All you do is pull a cord, wait for the voice at the other end, and ask to go through. Then you paddle into the compartment, a worker throws you a rope, and the compartment fills or empties depending on whether you are going up- or downstream. The first time I went through, I was a little apprehensive. I paddled into this dark caverous space with blackened walls covered with slimy moss. Then the massive doors behind me creaked shut. I felt a little claustrophobic and unsure about how fast the water would surge into the lock. But, the water came in relatively slowly, not churning wildly just roiling. I was paddling again in a few minutes.

I tend to avoid going through the locks. However, I greatly prefer them to some of the atrocious portages I have encountered further upstream on the Mississippi.

Something is Rotten in the State of Denmark

2009-10-23T17:08:00.004-05:00

These two stinkers that are still unrepentantly stinkin' up the joint.

Epoxy Art Wallpaper

2009-10-23T17:04:00.001-05:00

Click here to see a slide show of my Fluid Chromatics Epoxy Paintings.

Trapping Leeches

2009-10-23T10:05:00.011-05:00

Chilton Lake, north of Frazee, Minnesota.

When I was thirteen, I was gung ho about making money. I caught frogs and sold them to bait dealers. I mowed lawns to make a few dollars a month. And I got an allowance of 50 cents/week. The coffers weren't full and making chump change couldn't slake my yen to amass a goodly pile of loot.

One day at school a classmate mentioned that he and his father trapped leeches, but he wouldn't tell me any details. I told my dad about it and he asked an acquaintance of his, the uncle of a bait dealer in town, if he knew how it was done. This kindly old guy did and he made free with the sage (which I will pass on in another post to anyone interested in making some extra money).

So I obtained, or made, the requisite stuff, homemade traps and bloody meat, and the hunt was on that Spring. After a few initial failures, I hit pay dirt. I set traps every evening, and checked them every morning. Within a couple of weeks I was catching up to fifteen pounds of leeches, an entire five gallon bucket full of the awful little creathers each day. Seven days a week, I would drag myself out of bed at four in the morning; ride my Solex moped to the lake; check the traps in my little pirogue; and ride home with my leech bucket strapped to the child seat on the back of my moped. If I had school, I was half asleep all day. Every evening, I would put out the traps again baited with fresh bull liver or kidneys the town butcher was generous enough to give me.

For the first month or so, I took my catch to a bait dealer in nearby Perham who always paid me $3.50/lbs in one-dollar bills, which I kept in piles hidden in my underwear drawer between trips to the bank. Then, my dad helped me land a deal to supply all of the stores at a large retail sporting store chain in Fargo, North Dakota. Every week I'd package three hundred dozen leeches in individual styrofoam containers. My dad and I would drive thirty miles to drop them off at the home of "the Gun Man," who gave me six-five cents a dozen for my labors. And, I hung out my own shingle to boot. I put out a sign in the front yard emblazoned with one word, "leechs." By mid-summer, I was clearing $350/week, a vast fortune to a kid from the sticks, living in Northern Minnesota during the late 1970s.

I have many vivid memories that I still conjure up when, if I can't help it, I'm up before the sun rises. I hated cutting up liver. I hated the smell of leeches and the fiberous blobs of bloodless organ meat remaining in the traps. I loved the brisk early dawn moped ride down the old county road and the bumpy, swooshing, windy ride through the hilly farm fields, past the lowing cows, at full throttle. I loved walking through the tussocks in the meadow by the lake and watching the sun rise and set while mucking around in my little boat.