![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(We now return you to your regularly scheduled Pinewoods trip report, already in progress.)
Each morning, when I woke up, I slipped out of bed and out of my nightshirt, then walked out the back door of my cabin, where a short flight of stairs led down through the honeysuckle into Round Pond. The water was cool enough to be shocking, but soon mellowed to a comfortable envelope. I was often the only person in sight, surrounded on all sides by the green hush of nature. Electric-blue damselflies clung to the leaves and grasses like tiny javelins. Once, I heard, then saw, a woodpecker drilling in the dead branches above the cabin.
Bluegills of a reasonable size also live in Round Pond. One or two contribute to the general atmosphere of harmony with nature, but when eight of them are mobbing you, looking for something to nibble on, it can be a little intimidating. They are fearless and investigative, the Sam Spades of the ichthyoid world, and even vigorous underwater kicking does not deter them. When I decided to take pictures from the pond, wading armpit-deep with my camera held awkwardly clear of the water, one of the little bastards seized its chance to bite my delicates. This nearly resulted in a watery doom for my camera, and did result in a hush-shattering yelp that echoed to the opposite shore. But I managed to snap a few shots anyway:
( Pictures are for cutting. )
Each morning, when I woke up, I slipped out of bed and out of my nightshirt, then walked out the back door of my cabin, where a short flight of stairs led down through the honeysuckle into Round Pond. The water was cool enough to be shocking, but soon mellowed to a comfortable envelope. I was often the only person in sight, surrounded on all sides by the green hush of nature. Electric-blue damselflies clung to the leaves and grasses like tiny javelins. Once, I heard, then saw, a woodpecker drilling in the dead branches above the cabin.
Bluegills of a reasonable size also live in Round Pond. One or two contribute to the general atmosphere of harmony with nature, but when eight of them are mobbing you, looking for something to nibble on, it can be a little intimidating. They are fearless and investigative, the Sam Spades of the ichthyoid world, and even vigorous underwater kicking does not deter them. When I decided to take pictures from the pond, wading armpit-deep with my camera held awkwardly clear of the water, one of the little bastards seized its chance to bite my delicates. This nearly resulted in a watery doom for my camera, and did result in a hush-shattering yelp that echoed to the opposite shore. But I managed to snap a few shots anyway:
( Pictures are for cutting. )
