I Just Had Lunch with a Whiskey Jack

Trout Whisperer posted on April 12, 2008 10:14 :: 2819 Views

I wasn’t in a me, myself and I mode. But I was not expecting company either. Not one other boat on the lake. Gulls flew and I saw the occasional crow. Mrs. Mallard had her babies out for a swim. My stringer was half full, so was my growling stomach.

Gray Jay or Whiskey Jack Unpacking I felt the breeze. I could hear the water lapping softly against the boat hull. Popping open a soda was loud. I slouched against a big dark rock for my back rest. Tucking the duffle under my arm, my table was set.

Im sitting on the ground completely horizontal, but my body is still just abit boat rocked. Im not moving, but I’m movin. Clouds float and the breeze is pine scented. My boot heels go up on a fallen log.

Movement catches my eye, and I get my camp robber visit. Pretty gentle, but forward intro from the feathered guest. We talked about bird stuff. Wee ah, wee ah…I answered, and it wee ah’ed right back.

Lunch was gonna be lunch, until the bird showed up. The fishing had been good. The day warm and I thought I’d do some loafing, stretching and water the lilies. So I beached the boat and reclined on the point.

The early bird got the first bite I tossed. Since the conversation was going well I shared my sandwich with me, next. Distance, in this bird’s world was no problem. Every crust drew the beggar closer. Wee ah, wee ah. I fed it quicker. The message was pretty clear. I ate from my minnowed hands; it dined off the forest floor

It ate the crusted edges; I got the meaty mustard insides. My bite is a bite. I chewed, it gulped. The entire bird body humped it into the gray belly. Hop, hop, closer. Wee ah.

Reaching for the crackers I actually thought I may have help. Right up to the top pack sack flap. Like I was tossing food too far. I named the bird “bird”. I wasn’t sure if it was a his, or a her. “Bird”, seemed unisex. I wee ah’ed. It dined on rye crisp.

Pocket knives have never saved my life, but I was glad I had it today. I sliced cheese and peeled the apple to bird sized bits. Then I wee’ad, and it inhaled apple peel. Cheese, cracker or just cheese junks, any order, no problem.

When the snacks ran out, it wee’ad and landed on my Duluth pack. The conversation got pretty one-sided, so I just listened. It checked my entire buffet out. Hopped across my pack. Back to the dirt floor. Pecked or picked something and ate it. Then with wings, up, branch, bird, bounced, two wee’ahs, inside a balsam, up to a birch tree branch, then the forest door closed.

Best lunch I had all day. I picked up my pack. Rubbed the knife blade against my jeans and the dishes were done. I went to look for some lilies.

The trout whisperer

Inside the Mind of a Guide

Living the Dream in God's Country - Superior National Forest

Join author, professional guide, and master storyteller, Karl "Trout Whisperer" Seckinger, as he takes you on a 20 year, mystical journey into the Superior National Forest.

On this CD, Trout Whisperer's unique manner of storytelling, and digital sound effects, will transport you on a journey that will place you in the heart of the 'super natural forest' that is known as the Superior National Forest.