The Fisherman

He glides gracefully over our house several times a day. We live very near a river. He feeds there . . . sometimes.


Like when he's not feeding in our neighbors' ponds!

We stood outside and watched him glide from rooftop to rooftop, dipping into the backyards between. When he disappeared behind the next door neighbor's house, She says, "Honey! Go check the pond!" He ran. Sure enough, Mr. Fisherman was eyeing the nice plump froggies from safely atop the arbor.

Stinker.

Speaking of fisherman . . . do you mind if I take a minute from the usual womanliness of this space to brag on my husband?

Like my sister-in-law said, "Now that's a nice catch." Either one of them . . . both of them.

{Personally, though . . . I prefer the fellow.} :)

{It's a 40.5" Striped Bass.}