I had to go out and at least walk around the garden and then take a drive through town today because I've just about had it with quarantine. Not a single soul was outside today, despite it's being mild and sunny; there were no cars, no trucks coming to or from the border, not a sound, no wind at all, and it was EERIE.
I mean, usually you'll see a dog, or somebody's cat, or a tractor, or a kid, but nope. Went to the post office, nobody. Drove around, which doesn't take any more than 20 minutes, just at an idle, letting the car drift along - nobody. Something was on fire south of here in one of the fields; I'd say slash, because it's that time of the year, but I didn't drive down to look because we've had flooding and I have my doubts as to the state of the road headed in that direction.
(Scene: FirstNations tootling down a quaint little farm lane in her Wagoroonie mini SUV or whatever the hell I'm driving now. Tootling along. Suddenly the pavement gives way and gasploosh! There I am! Tit deep and sinking, in a jumble of migrating salmon, ecology blocks, traffic cones, broken pavement and crick water - and the zombies all suddenly look up and come stumbling my way. No, no no no no. Not worth it to go see a fire. I've seen fires before. They're made of flames.)
Speaking of salmon, the Bejewelled Biker, who now drives the Baby Blue Sedan of Sadness, was stopped by a school of migrating salmon just last week. I mean actual migrating salmon crossing the road, no crosswalk, no 'Danger Fish Crossing' sign, no UFO's, nothing.
There's a notorious high-water spot about three miles from here that runs through a blueberry field, and when conditions are right, big, huge salmon go wriggling across the road in the overspill, from a flooded blueberry field, across the pavement, to the wetlands on the other side. There were people out on either side of the road taking videos of this, and also wading around doing a little hand-fishing too. I went back the next day to the very spot and saw the same thing happening!
The Bejewelled Beast snapped an excellent shot of a teenage kid who had hand-caught himself a super nice fish, holding it up on the side of the road. Do I have those pictures? No I do not. Just imagine a tall skinny kid, standing in the middle of a street full of salmon swimming like mad bastards across a wet two-lane road, from a blueberry field into a marsh, with a crowd of people taking pictures and about three semi's stopped in the road.
This is trippy country. Also, when nature tells you it's time to fuck, you gotta fuck. Even if it means swimming through a blueberry field and wriggling your fishy tummy over wet pavement to deposit your milt/eggs in a cedar swamp. I'm sure you can relate to the feeling.
OH WAIT I DO HAVE THE PICTURE!!!!!
Live, from Sumas WA, here is the picture of the kid who hand-caught a fish!
Note that this kid is not wearing matching sandals and has been photographed against a backdrop of cedar swamp with what appears to be a house in the background. I don't know what he has in his pocket, but it's ruined now, because according to the BB, this kid was up to his armpits in the cedar swamp just moments before this was shot. So there you go. Kid with a fish, and a borked cell phone most likely.
This fish is what's called a 'Chum Salmon'. It is of such unsatisfactory quality that it was cut up and used to 'chum' for bear, or fed to dogs, or slaves, by the indigenes. Me, I've eaten plenty of chum salmon pulled in from the mouth of the Columbia River and it's a perfectly delicious fish. It's the change they undergo as their systems adapt to fresh water from salt water that gives the flesh a weird flavor and texture. As far upstream as we are from the ocean, this kid probably took one bite of his prize and then fed the rest to his dog. Old fresh-water chum salmon is a funky, funky eating experience. Still, to see a natural fish run for the first time in years is further proof to me that Nature is coming back with a vengeance thanks to Covid!