Derby Day!

Ah...Derby Day! There's nothing quite like it. The excitement in the air, the crowds cheering on their favorites, and kids racing across the park to turn in their fish in hopes of winning the prize.

What...you thought I was talking a horse race? Nah...that derby was held last week.

This derby is the Kids Fishing Derby held at Whatcom Falls Park each May, the Saturday prior to Mother's Day. The anticipation mounts as children eagerly await this Saturday morning. Still more excitement and tension builds in their parents. And certainly none of them is as eager as City Boy.

The falls at Whatcom Falls Park

The Derby is a tradition in our family. Uncle Warthog, you may recall, won the first derby every held here. I've won, Little Hitler has won. Geek Boy and Darling have both won. In fact, the officials often joke that they're just going to write in our last name when they see us show up, as they know one of the kids will show up in line for a prize when they're handed out.

City Boy didn't grow up here. He didn't get to fish in the derby as a kid. But the man is driven. To distraction. For weeks leading up to the derby he's planning the attack. Poles, lures, hooks, lines, and reels begin showing up in the living room. Weights are analyzed. New colors of power bait appear, seemingly out of thin air. And there sits City Boy; his eyes glazed over and a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth (and drool; mustn't forget the drool.) The man is in a fishing stupor this time of year.

It's so peaceful right now...tomorrow it will be swarming with rugrats!

The derby begins at 9 in the morning. The little kids fish first, those 9 and under. There is a two fish limit, with prizes going to the top ten girls and the top ten boys. By now the fish have been stocked in the pond; trout raised specifically for this event. They're not fed the day prior to the derby so they're hungry and will bite for the kids. And bite they do! It never fails that the first few kids have their two fish within two minutes. As fast as you can throw out your line, you've got a fish at the end.

Trout being raised in the park hatchery.

Of course, they're a bit slower to bite for the second round of fishermen. Those fish bellies are now full of lost power bait, eggs and worms. It takes a good five minutes for the first few kids to get their fish. Still, most of the kids there have caught there fish within half an hours time. They then trickle out to the park and wait for the prizes to be given out.

Same trout, now excited because they think I'm there to feed them! Don't worry, they aren't starving; they do this everytime someone walks by.

So here we sit. Bait has been purchased. Chairs have been loaded into the car. The tackle box has been carefully filled and each lure, hook and sinker is in it's proper, easy to locate place. The bucket is ready for the fish. Donuts are handy for an early morning breakfast as we walk out the door. City Boy's plan of attack has been laid out carefully. Everyone knows their positions. We all know that we need to use the rest room at least 30 minutes prior to the starting whistle blowing.

WE
ARE
READY!

And Darling just told me.....

"I don't think I want to fish this year."

That Never Happened...

Congratulations, Rachelle, on your winning entry in the photo contest! Winter Whiskers, it is!

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Darling cut her own hair!

I'm the queen of 'That Never Happened'. Really, I am. I never snorted boogers all over people while on a first date. I never dropped my cell phone in a public toilet and got caught fishing it out. And I certainly never go outside where truck drives can see me in my flannel pj's walking barefoot through muddy horse paddocks. No...these things never happened. Never.

Darling and Rufus

Today turned out to be quite lovely, despite the snow on the hill and chilly air. Darling and I decided to bring the dogs into town and walk along the old railroad tracks through Whatcom Falls Park. It's a lovely place; so picturesque and tranquil.

Now, I've not mentioned it before, but Darling has a habit of running into things. Little things, like walls, for instance. Fortunately for her, there were no walls out in the park. Unfortunately for her, there were trees. "That never happened," she said. That's Darling's second most favorite phrase. As I told her this afternoon, half of her life hasn't happened. She has no idea what I'm talking about, pleading complete ignorance. I really have no idea where she comes by such denial.

Someone is walking backwards...
Either the dogs are very talented, or perhaps it just never happened...


Hurry! She's old, we can outrun her!

While we're on the subject of Darling's favorite phrases...her most favoritist (is that a real word? The Grammar Nazi will come for me if it isn't) phrase is, "I was adopted, wasn't I. Please tell me I was adopted." I'm not really sure why she'd think that. We've always been very honest with Darling in terms of where she came from. Some years ago we sat her down and told her that, when a mommy and daddy love each other very much, they call the travelling pig gypsies who always have a supply of extra children. Pig Gypsies are always willing to barter a bit, so we traded a shiny bottle cap to them in exchange for a new daughter. To which Darling responded, "I was adopted."

Young Redwinged Blackbird pulls seeds from cattails growing in the pond.

Our walk this afternoon, as I mentioned, was along the old railroad tracks. Prior to entering the park, they travel past Scudders Pond, a gloriously swampy piece of water full of cattails, bullfrogs and mosquitoes. I told Darling how one early morning I'd decided to go for a stroll along this same trail. It was something like 6 am, probably not the safest time for a young woman to be out walking alone. That thought hadn't occurred to me until I'd been out there for half an hour and noticed that the only people I was meeting were a handful of male joggers. I was beginning to get just a bit nervous, imagining the worst each time I heard their crunching footsteps approaching me from behind. I'm sure they noticed my jumpiness, too, as I'd turn quickly around so as to get a good look at their faces just in case I lived through the attack.

My heart was racing by the time I was out of the woods and back alongside the pond. But I knew I was within sight of the apartments across the pond now; surely someone would be up and hear my screams should worse come to worse. Just as I was letting that thought slip through my head, my fears were realized. I was attacked from behind! I let out a scream; I'd been hit on the top of my head! I fell forward, the palms of my hands hitting the gravelled trail. I recall wondering briefly why I hadn't heard them come up behind me...

Quickly I attempted getting up to flee...or fight... Do you know how awkward it is to turn gracefully when you're on all fours and facing downward? Breathlessly I got up, but there was no one to be seen. I looked around. And then it happened again. Thwunk!!! On the top of my head!! What the heck??

That's when I heard the squawking and chiding from a tree above me... There sat a red winged blackbird, thoroughly ticked off at my hot pink headband!

Oh, sure, they look innocent enough...

I brushed the bits of embedded gravel from my hands, straightened my sweater and looked nervously around to see if there were any witnesses. Thankfully, there were no joggers at the moment. Hopefully, no one was awake over in those apartments to have seen what had just happened. Imagine, being attacked by a silly little bird and having it drive you right down to the ground.

But of course...That Never Happened!


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Now, a quick Taffy update! Here's what she's looking like from behind. Her udder is filling up, but we're not there yet.

Could this be considered Sheep Porn?
(Oh, never mind me...I'm up way past my bedtime!)