Hank locked the door of the RV he started to shiver, a bad dose of cold feet as they say. ‘ Aggh, what the hell, Hank you only live once !!!!! ‘, he whistled and soon rascal was by his side. A few minutes later having crossed the road they were making their way down through the trees to the river. The terrain was rough and tested his backcountry skills but Hank was not found wanting and his sprightly and sure footsteps belied his age. Halfway down Hank stopped, took out the binoculars and surveyed the terrain, a few rabbits frolicking alongside a small ditch and a few birds were the only sign of life. As expected from all his reconnaissance they were alone and free to commence operations. Reaching the river, they followed it downstream for about a mile, reaching a small clearing Hank stopped. He had chosen this spot carefully, in front some shallow water, upstream a nice pool with good tree cover. The bank was slightly elevated and allowed a good view up and downstream, the few trees that were there carried quite a bit of foliage, enough to provide reasonable cover from prying eyes. ‘Base camp Rascal, this is where it all begins, the Ranger should be along in 40 minutes.’.
Finding a suitable tree Hank broke of a branch of about four foot long, stripping of any side branches and then taking Rascals lead from his pocket , he tied it to the branch and admiring his handy work he laughed, ‘ not bad Rascal, maybe we should get into selling wading sticks.’ Rascal was not the least bit impressed at his lead being used and sulked at Hanks feet.
Hank made for the river and at the edge he beckoned Rascal, ‘ Sit Rascal, stay, watch ‘. Reaching into the pouch , he retrieved the sampling net and carefully inserted the cleverly crafted pieces together. Standing in water no more than two foot deep he started sampling, holding the net tight to the bottom he shuffled in reverse upstream, using his feet to disturb the bottom. A small cloud of silt drifted down , the outline of the net quickly disappearing in the murky water. After a few yards he lifted the net and headed for dry land, laying the net carefully on the grass. It took a few minutes to remove sticks, stones and other debris from the net and soon Hank was investigating the invertebrates that squirmed around the net. Hank turned to Rascal, ‘We need a fine plastic tweezers and a small white dish, its hard to catch this little mites. Remind me to-morrow’. He recognised a few bugs as being nymphs , some as small as 1mm others at least 6mm, a big wriggler he reckoned to be free swimming caddis, some cased caddis , and ‘ Hey Rascal, some shrimp in here’. Sounded like food to Rascal so he wagged his tail in delight, fully expecting Hank to offer him some morsels.
Taking one of the film canisters from his pocket he half filled it with water and as best as he could manage he emptied the contents of the net into the canister. When the free swimming caddis bounced of the rim and fell into the grass Hank dived on it, grabbed a few handfuls of grass and whooped with delight when he located the poor creature. Dropping it into the canister he replaced the lid and stowed it away carefully in an inside pocket. ‘ Its official Rascal , we are gonna be fully qualified entomologostists or what ever the word is’. Standing up smartly, Hank did a little Indian dance, thinking to himself , ‘Man its good to be alive’
Rascal raised his ears , staring upstream he pawed the ground catching Hanks attention. Good said Hank, that will be the ranger. He quickly entered the water and started sampling.
TBC
