Indeed, perseverance does work.

Charlotte and I went to camp this weekend to start closing things up and just relax in the quiet. We left Sat. AM and stopped at the Farmer's market in Groton VT for a blackberry pie. The woman who makes them does a great job- yes, we've had one before.

It was pretty cool in NH, so out came the heaters and firewood. Had supper at the local fish place and fell asleep in front of the fire trying to read.

6:30 AM was time to go fishing. I layered up and went out with coffee and an apple from the apple guy, Ed, on the Kankamaugus Highway. I had been out for a little over an hour when I heard a loud splash behind me. Turning around, I saw a loon in the water, twisting and turning and battling something. This is where the perseverance comes in.

Whatever it had was almost dragging the loon under water.

The loon was thrashing around and kept jabbing its beak into the water as if it was bobbing for apples. It soon became evident that it had caught a rather large fish.

This fish looked like it was way too large to swallow and, of course, it had to be swallowed whole or not at all. The loon would get it one way and another, but seemed unable to find the right combination of direction and placement to actually swallow it. this went on for about 15 mins., by which time the fish was obviously dead. Repeated pecking and chomping had taken their toll.

Finally , the loon got the fish in its mouth head first.

It was obvious to me that the fish was rather larger than the loon's head and I gave it no chance of actually swallowing the catch. Then, the loon raised the fish in the air.

and started gulping and gagging

And down it went, swelling the loon's neck to an admirably large size.

This was followed by a considerable amount of wing flapping and a look of "See what I did."

as he/she paddled slowly out into the lake. I figured that a fish larger than the loon's stomach could possible be would satisfy any hunger urges for a couple of hours anyway. It was a small mouth bass that weighed at least 1 1/2 pounds. But no. By the time I started in about 10 mins later, the loon was fishing again.

We went for a pontoon boat ride, but the engine unaccountably stalled down next to the boat launch area and wouldn't start, so I took this as a sign and we pulled it out and trailed it back to the house. This required getting the trailer out, pumping up the tires, and checking the lights which didn't work. To hell with the lights - Charlotte drove trailer down to the boat launch while I went in the Minnow (my fishing boat) to drag the pontoon boat in. This was relatively uneventful, and we got it home and in the yard. Then, I decided to bring the Abby B, my sailboat, home to VT. It was my turn for perseverance.

I went out in the Minnow, tied up to the Abby B and started the process. Took the jib off, took the mainsail off, stuffed it all into the cabin, took the boom off, took the tiller and rudder off, placed the mast crutch and lowered the mast.

This took about 20 mins. When I got the mast down, I realized that the minnow was floating way further away than the length of the painter, and getting more distant by the minute. We were no longer attached. Fortunately, it was floating toward the shore.

I hollered for Charlotte, who climbed aboard the Minnow and paddled in the wrong direction for awhile. Fortunately, she did avoid the rocks, and I was able to paddle the Abby B to shore, collect the Minnow and tow the Abby B to the boat launch. Came back home, got the trailer which had been pushed over a log and had to be dragged out by car rather than by hand, managed to back up over the hitch and sever 2 of the light wires, fixed the wires, and finally got ready to leave. We were now an hour later than we wanted, but we picked up the Abby B and left exhausted.

But, the loon taught me a valuable perseverance lesson. Open your mouth wide enough and you can swallow a huge fish whole.