JUNE 1997.... Ah summer......We're just at the beginning of Hopper season here at the ranch and one can hardly take a step without squashing a few of the poor devils. They're everywhere and it seems that a favorite target is the rusted out old ranch truck we still use to deliver supplies down to the bunk house. They bake there in the broiling sun on the hood until someone starts the motor up at which point they rise, prow like, pointing into the wind with a powerful grip as the truck picks up speed over the rutted dirt roads of the ranch. It just about guarantees a pretty dramatic arrival wherever you decide to go. Just walking through the tall grass to the water it's nothing to discover one's hat has been converted into a living crown of acrobatic little insects. We do draw the line at letting them into the house though. They're creating quite a commotion but we're glad they've finally arrived as the trout are practically leaping out of the water to get at them. Actually, they are leaping out of the water to get them. It has been noted by one of our foreign correspondants that our beloved Hatch Watcher has been caught sleeping on the job. After much discussion, we've come to the conclusion that keeping an eye on ten million grasshoppers is fairly unsophisticated work and he might as well knock off for a while. Who knows what he and The Ranch Proprietor are discussing each morning when they circumnavigate the lake... cattle prices? He's still out there every night in front of his fire playing the mandolin but now with so much time on his hands he's taken to composing an epic tune about the life cycle of the Stone Fly. The melody is actually pretty good, the coyotes still join in when he hits the high notes but the lyrics frankly leave something to be desired. Oh well...it's really only the melody that we hear drifting over the wind down at the bunk house anyway.
The Ranch Proprietor is preparing for an extensive reconnaisance mission into the back country after finding some remarkable new petroglyphs. Plans are afoot for a complete cataloging of all the ancient sites here at the ranch along with a record of everything we know about them. Also of note, an entire network of interconnecting underground caves was recently discovered by ranch guest Mark Davies after a near disaster in landing his paramotor. While lazily gliding along on an early morning thermal a sudden foehn wind caught his parachute in a violent downdraft forcing him to be blown off course and into the mouth of one of the aforementioned caves. After disentangling himself, Mr. Davies ventured about 500 yards into the darkened abyss guided only by the light of his cigarette lighter, whereupon he slipped and fell into a subterranean stream (no trout observed). This second disaster caused Mr. Davies to be swept along by the powerful underground current into a second cave where eventually he was able to catch a glimpse of light, climb out and rescue himself. This new discovery will definitely warrant further investigation (albeit not by Mr. Davies).
The River-Keeper is practically heart broken.
After spending nearly his entire winter organizing The VR's first annual
cyber-fly design competition the response has been most disapointing. He
mopes around all day and some of the VR's finest streams are now littered
with the detritus he has refused to clean up. He even sent a note over
to the Hatch Watcher to tell him that a song about the life cycle of the
Stone Fly was a really dumb idea and nobody would ever listen to it anyway.....See
what I mean? In order to cheer him up and perhaps get some of our streams
back in order, The Ranch Proprietor has upped the ante for first prize
and is now offering the lucky winner a TWO week all expense paid stay in
the teepee with a professional hatch watcher now with free Margaritas thrown
in as well. As a special financial incentive to enter the competition all
participants can have one VR dollar.
On a brighter note over at The Fishing Shack we've had two, count 'em ... TWO ...reports from individuals with some rather amusing Tall Tales. It just goes to show you that no matter how far flung our fishing friends may be ... embellishing a fishing story knows no bounds.
Yours truly, V.S.O.P.
Hickock Ranch Reporter
