Okefenokee

Today as I paddled off into the swamp, I could not help but think back to my school days in the red dirt country. Sometimes being alone in a small boat has that effect on me, it reminds me of simpler times.

As I was growing up, we could not wait to reach the fourth grade, because in fourth grade, and most especially if you had the right teacher, you got to learn about Georgia history. Now, people now days will be wondering what was so exciting about that. Well, we got to go on field trips to local sites of historical interest, through out that year. As I came from a long line of school teachers, I wound up in the best fourth grade class with the best teacher of that day.

So, what has this to do with a blog on the Okefenokee, well here it is. I still have a copy of my fourth grade history book, which I inherited from my Grandmother, and the following is what us red dirt kids were taught about the Okefenokee.

"++++++OKEFENOKEE SWAMP+++++++++

Okefenokee swamp is the second largest swamp land in the United States, It is a huge jungle land near Waycross. There are twenty one islands in the swamp. Lakes are scattered about. Two prairies spread for miles in the swamp.
Indians named the swamp Okefenokee. Okefenokee means "trembling earth." The swamp land was so wet that the earth trembled when people walked on the land. Huge trees shook as the Indians walked.
Long ago, Indians used the swamp as a hiding place. Whenever they did anything wrong, they went to live in the swamp. It made a safe place for the Indian to stay.
In the swamp, the night is never quite. Voices scream and howl and call to each other. The swamp is alive with animals and birds. Alligators, fish and snakes live in the water. Deer, bears, wildcats, and many other animals live on the islands. After a warm rain the frogs make wild music. The swamp people call the frog music the Song of Okefenokee.
An old tale is told about the swamp. Just before dawn everything is quite and still, for each animal has gone home. This is the hour when "hants" roam in the swamp country. Very few living things dare to come out. But with the coming of the sun, nothing is quite. The animals awake. Buzzing sounds come from the forest. Wild cries are heard. Animals Begin leaving their homes.
A white egret can be seen on her nest. The nest is in the edge of the marsh. A large crane can be seen winging her way across the swamp. An old black bear may be seen wobbling down the banks of a stream looking for his breakfast. On the prairie a blue heron can be seen standing on one leg. An old alligator thunders, and from far down the river is an answer. As the thundering call echoes, there is another answer and still another. A cottonmouth moccasin can be seen coiled on a cypress knee, waiting for a sun bath.
Trees of many kinds grow in the swamp. They stand deep in the water. Many of them have been cut for lumber. There are gums, pines, oaks, hollies, bays, and cypresses. The cypresses are queer looking trees. They look like great bottles rising out of the water. Strange looking knees stick up from the trees above the water to breath for the trees. The trees spread out over the swamp like huge umbrellas. The leaves are so thick that the sun can hardly shine through.
Gray moss hanging from the trees is used by the flower nurseries in packing and shipping plants. People who make furniture use it in making chairs.
Hundreds of plants grow in the swamp. Tall trees grow above the smaller plants. Palm fans grow beneath the trees because they do not need much sun, The palms have long white blooms. They have black fruit. All kinds of berries grow there.
There is a lather bush that is sometimes called a leather bush. Its leaves can be used for soap. When the leaves are crushed, they will lather in water.
Here the Cherokee rose grows. It is here the Seminole brave brought the Cherokee maiden to live. It was this maiden who planted the rose spray from her father's cabin.
Since 1936, the Okefenokee has been a national park. Tourists from all parts of the country visit the swamp.
Some people live in the swamp all year. They make their living by fishing. They have built fishing camps on the larger islands. People may spend the night in the cabins. People who live in the swamp act as their guides,
Scientists go there because it is a reservation for wildlife. They want to study the plants and animals.
The Okefenokee is one of the most interesting places in Georgia. It is on of the Seven Wonders of the state."

The book was titled "Our Georgia" copyrighted 1950.

I can't make this stuff up, and I can't top it, but if you want to see the real deal and learn some real history, get in touch.

Old Captains ends.

 

Rainy, Lazy, Saturday

OK, so not my favorite weather today, rainy and grey. I sit here in my little office, what my wife called the man room. The world is very green outside my window, as everything seems to come to life more after the spring rain. The grass is growing now at rate faster than I care to cut it, the crepe myrtles are showing new growth, the live oaks are shedding, the dogwood and azaleas are done blooming, as we march toward summer and the heat that it brings.

My desk is cluttered with paper that I really should file, maybe a task for today, maybe not. The desk sits in a wondrous corner surrounded by things that make me happy, and let me daydream of good times past. The picture of my last helicopter flight from an aircraft carrier, old wooden duck decoys, a basket full of deer antlers from past hunts. Over my right shoulder are two mounted green wing teal, forever in flight. There are other pictures, a painting of Bennett's store in Lithia Springs, a drawing of an owl done by my son and a Irish prayer. There is a hand carved CPO plaque made by a friend who is no longer with us, and a 45-110 cartridge signed by Tom Selleck, that is from the Quigley rifle. There is my old re curve bow, a large deer mount, and an antique fly rod.

My favorite poet, Don Blanding, wrote a very famous poem called "Vagabond's House" I wish everyone would take a moment to goggle and read it, because it fits my mood for the day.  For you see, as I sit here and arrange duck calls, and turkey calls, arrows and fishing lures, I feel I am surrounded by treasure, that of found memory. Sometime that is all a day like this calls for, to remind me of how rich I am. I leave you now with another Blanding poem named "Gold".

 

Gold

My treasure chest is filled with gold.
Gold . . . gold . . . gold . . .
Vagabond's gold and drifter's gold . . .
Worthless, priceless, dreamer's gold . . .
Gold of the sunset . . . gold of the dawn . . .
Gold of the shower trees on my lawn . . .
Poet's gold and artist's gold . . .
Gold that can not be bought or sold --
Gold.

 

Old Captain Sends.

Sand

I have been both blessed and cursed with sand most of my life. Well, my adult life anyway, as a child I was permanently stained by the red dirt of north Georgia. As a sailor and world traveler, I have had the opportunity to become a connoisseur of beaches. The white sugar sand of Florida, the dark volcanic sand of the south Pacific, the muddy sands of Europe, and then there was the middle east.

Sand has held for centuries many roles. Used as a medium to tell time, as in an hour glass, used as an abrasive to smooth things out. Southwestern Native Americans even used colored sands to create pictures with. Sand can be very irritating, as if caught in the wrong area of ones bathing suit. Sand is mixed with cement to form smooth concrete making it a very strong material.

I know people named Sandy, one of them is my dear sister. I have been described as having sand in my shoes, because I love to travel and always like it more when it is near water, and beaches. And I have a memory of the intro to an old time soap opera that goes, "Like sands through an hour glass, so are the Days of our Lives", which was recited every day on television, and I am told before that on radio, by MacDonald Carey.

People travel to sandy places, just to put their toes, or other portions of their posterior in it. To frolic upon it, to revel in its simplistic beauty.

Today, I have spent cleaning it out of my lawnmower engine, it seems to find its way in to all the places that it shouldn't be. Its the same with my house, it seems to be everywhere, tracked in on shoes or blown in with the wind. On of the hazards of of living here, between the swamp and the sea.

Thus ends my daily rant, but once again I find my self thankful, because with all the bad going on in our world today, I find my biggest enemy is sand. At least for today!

Old Captain Sends.

Fishing For Answers, Prayers For Boston

As I came in last evening to write the days fishing report, I was rocked to hear the news out of Boston. This dampened my enthusiasm to a great extent, but now as reflect, I choose not to be dampened, because that is what terrorist want and we shall not let them win.

Boston is a sea going town, and I am a sea going man. The good folks of Boston speak with a regional accent and so do I. They love baseball in Boston, and so do I. My beloved Braves were once many years ago, a Boston team, they even traded away Babe Ruth. The beginnings of our fight for freedom as a country began in Boston, as today we fight once again for our personal freedom. So I just want to send out an old sailors love to his friends from the area, and to let everyone there know, you are in my thoughts and prayers.

Yesterday on the water around the island was a good day, the sun was breaking through and burning the clouds off after a stormy, rainy night. The trout at one point were very hungry, and were eager to bite just about anything we could toss out in the water. The day wrapped with my partners twenty minute light tackle fight on a four foot bonnet head shark. The shark was photographed and released back into the sea, but the trout went home for dinner.

Thus ends the fishing report, and back to my thoughts of my friends up north. Boston, put your swagger back on, hoist a few lagers, cheer for the Sox! You will not be beaten by a coward, you never have, never will be. I send to you my prayer from the book of Psalms, May the Lord give strength to his people! May the Lord bless his people with peace!Psalm 29:10-11

Old Captain sends

Fair Winds And Following Seas, Marine

As I sit here in my newly established office, out side of the rotor head bar and the Soulshine grill. I am ready for a relaxing Saturday afternoon listening to music and enjoying some beautiful weather.
My thoughts and reflections have been on the passing of an American icon.

There once was a seventeen year old young man from the state of Ohio. This young man came from a broken home, was raised by his Grandmother. As he turned seventeen, and with his country at war he joined the Marines. He went on to serve through out the Pacific theater of World War II, and earned his combat ribbon during the battle of Okinawa. Wartime service always changes people, for good or bad. In this young mans case, as he returned to the changed world, he devoted his life to making people smile and laugh. He stared in over fifty movies, and several television shows, as well as making numerous recordings of sketch comedy. Many in my age group may remember his silly characters, even playing Robin Williams son on Mork and Mindy.

I am writing of course of Jonathan Winters. Today I want to thank you for your service to this world and to the United States of America. I most of all thank you for being United States Marine Corporal, and infantryman. You left us a better world, and I like you quote on service "I've always been proud of being a Marine. I won't hesitate to defend the Corps." Jonathan Winters, comic and Marine

Neither will I. Rest Easy Marine.


 Old Master Chief sends.

Where The Red Fern Grows

It has been a couple of weeks since my last dispatch. Had been up in the red dirt country trying to pursue long beard gobblers, during some of the coldest weather I have ever tried to turkey hunt in. Then back down south the rain and wind has given us fits. I have no pictures to post yet of trophy long beards, and have not even ventured forth to fish because of the brutal winds.

What I have done is get some needed upgrades to the shack, here between the swamp and the sea. I have gotten some of the garden in and it seems to be prospering. I have also had a lot of alone time to be in thought and to be thankful for this little piece of sandy heaven and all that goes with it.

I was reminded of a favorite book and movie, from my childhood entitled "Where the red fern grows". Most every young southern boy who has hunted the woods and swamps with a dog knows the tale. If you have never read the story of Big Dan and Little Ann, I highly recommend it. Although it is about two red bone hounds, it also uses an old Cherokee legend about the red fern. The legend states that a Young man and young women became lost in the woods and died due to the cold. In the spring when their bodies were found a red fern was found growing between them. This became known as a symbol of a love that could not die.

The other day I found this red fern on my little piece of sandy ground near my house. If you don't believe we are sent messages from above, then your just not opening your eyes to see the beauty around you. The message in this, when the fish don't bite and the turkeys don't gobble, stay positive and look around you never know where your red fern will be.

Captain Scotty sends.