For a noontime break from writing, I visited a local trout pond. A slight mist made me glad I had brought a raincoat. A breeze wicked away the heat from my hands, making them so cold that I immediately lost most of the feeling, making it difficult to cast.
In front of me and a bit to the side, a sheet of ice lingered, refusing to melt despite it’s having overstayed its welcome. The trout refused to bite, no surprise there. But on the water, I saw what looked like little, floating insects. This pond has an early midge (a kind of teeny, aquatic fly) hatch and these looked like midges.
Even more ironic, I saw two phoebes, tails bobbing frantically, out on the ice, picking up something. Was it midges, blown by the wind? I don’t know, but since phoebes are flycatchers, they were surely taking some kind of insects. But to see the little birds working a sheet of ice seemed so out of place.
Off toward the center of the pond, a larger bird swam about. A loon. The loons are back, at least here in Mid-Coast Maine.
I finally gave in to the cold, packed my gear in the trunk and drove home.
As miserable and uncomfortably cold as it is, the midges, the phoebes and the loon assure me that better times are surely coming.