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E very
spring from 1987 to 1995 we would return to that same cove tucked back deep into the thicket on the
northwest end of Lake Therese (a.k.a Schiff). This spot wasn’t very accessible for shoreline fisherman like
us, but because of its’ productivity it was worth the inconvenience. Each year we
would return to find new bones scattered about, bones from deer that had laid down to die
the winter before. There was never really any evidence as to why the deer came to this
place to die.
We believe it was because the cove provided a water-side sanctuary where the deer
could drink and rest without concern. The first time we noticed the bones we didn’t think much of them.
We figured a single deer had died there. The next year we
saw more bones scattered a few feet from the original spot. It was then when
we started to wonder, perhaps this phenomena is not a coincidence. We also noticed the skull of a deer in the
water at the edge of the bank.
Finally, our beliefs were
confirmed three years from when we first saw the bones. We came across two
carcasses in the cove. Both deer had been dead for some time. The larger one
laid on her side. The small deer, obviously a fawn, laid in between the front
and hind legs of the larger deer, it’s skeleton in tact. This time it looked as
if a healthy fawn followed her dying mother and never left her side. It is a
strange and unexplained phenomenon that we still find bones of white tail deer
at this cove. Another phenomena, albeit, explainable and logical is that this
cove attracts anglers. Why? Well, about where the skull of the deer lay
submerged below the surface of the water there is a steep drop off about 15 feet
down. It is this steep ledge that is home for many large bass and the occasional brown or rainbow trout.
Those large bass and those occasional trout are the very reason why we anglers return to
Bone Cove every spring. As for the white tail, we hope they find as much solace in their
visits to the cove as we do in ours.
| The white tail takes her final drink from the winter’s water
undisturbed. Beneath the dormant Dogwood trees she makes her bed to sleep. In the shelter
of the cove her hungry fawn beside her lays. In their bed they rest in peace as the
twilight slowly fades away, fades away into the nights cold apathy. From the bitter winter night
the dawn breaks into day and the day crawls into evening as forest shadows wonder towards
winters wan entirety. The Dogwood then reveal from with out the waking bower, blooming in
the vernal mist the lakes great ivory flower. The day’s light lingers longer towards
each golden hour, while stealthy Largemouth forage and Browns and Rainbows breach the
placid surface of the tranquil, silent cove near the arbor of the white tail, her fawn
and…their forever resting bones. |
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Today, we do
not fish Lake Therese as often as we
 had
years ago as this hot spot has been turned into an Estate Development, but, on those occasional sojourns to that lake we love to angle,
bones can still be found where the largemouth flourish at the northwest end in a
place
we have appropriately named Bone Cove.
- BoneCoveAngler 2003
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Testament
of a Fisherman
| I fish because I love to; because I love the environs where trout are
found, which are invariably beautiful, and hate the environs where crowds of
people are found, which are invariably ugly; because of all the television
commercials, cocktail parties, and assorted social posturing I thus escape;
because, in a world where most men seem to spend their lives doing things they
hate, my fishing is at once an endless source of delight and an act of small
rebellion; because trout do not lie or cheat and cannot be bought or bribed or
impressed by power, but respond only to quietude and humility and endless
patience; because I suspect that men are going along this way for the last
time, and I for one don't want to waste the trip; because mercifully there are
no telephones on trout waters; because only in the woods can I find solitude
without loneliness; because bourbon out of an old tin cup always tastes better
out there; because maybe one day I will catch a mermaid; and, finally, not
because I regard fishing as being so terribly important but because I suspect
that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant - and not
nearly so much fun. |
John Voelker, 1903-1993
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