Walleye are usually very large fish sort of like a salmon shape and the best eating fish on the planet, they taste so fresh and the meat is usually very firm because they like deep cold water. I cild live on them if I could be somewhere to fish for them...alas not many fish in the desert.

Cool pictures, Chick (you must notta lived in OK as a child, right?) Isn't the Internet amazing? I couldn't have described a walleye accurately to save my hide. ....ah, they look like....fish...did you know that flounder are born with their eyes in the 'regular' place and they move to the top of their head as they mature? ...humor me, I'm a biologist....i've got all kinds of useless trivia stuffed inside...

A biologist? How cool is that! Tell us more. I grew up in Canada but have been in the USA for a couple of years. I guess if I lived on the ocean bottom, my eyes would end up on the top of my head too. Is there a difference between a flatfish and a flounder Ms. Biologist?

chickadee

Great fish tales. Here's one you might like -- excerpt from my book, "Ribbons of Highway: A Mother-Child Journey Across America." Smilinize's "Cosmo" and gushy worms post reminded me of some stunningly sexy but oh-so-serious Idaho flyfishermen:


In the Conant Valley nearer Wyoming, things turned lush and alive. For single ladies, there may be no better place in the US to see beautiful men than Swan Valley, Idaho, on the South Fork of the Snake River. The Snake here is liquid art. Broad and bending, light sage green, it rushes with small white water, and drifts in silvery ripples. Fingers of treed islands and peninsulas cut and divide it, and wader-clad flyfishermen cast their arcing lines into its flow, lit by a movie set sun.

Swan Valley’s population is 260, and it seemed to me a good percentage of that number are fit, gorgeous men, many young, many blond, all quite stupendous. Sit a spell in South Fork Outfitters (where fish-shaped bottles hold the bathroom soap, and a poster above the sink reads, “For Those Who Appreciate the Finer Things in Life, Like Hands That Smell of Fish”). Pick yourself out a fetching pair of hipwaders. But, before you cast your line, for fish or man, you’d better know your way around a driftboat and how to tie a damn good fly, because these boys aren’t about looking pretty. They’re about serious flyfishing. Looky-loos and dilettantes might earn five polite minutes of their time.


On another note, Dotsie's invited me to be on hand during the month of May as a travel forum guest "expert," and I'm looking forward to popping onto the forum each day to answer as many travel-related questions as I can. I publish a world travel blog at http://RibbonsofHighway.blogspot.com. Check it out. Maybe it'll fuel some ideas for travel topics we can talk about in May!

Chickadee, I have to ask, you wouldn't be from "The Rock", would you? My Mom was born and raised there (summers in Brigus and winters in St John's). Her uncle was a famous (well, famous in those parts) explorer, and her brother was an avid cod (and squid) jigger.

I've jigged for halibut near Yarmouth, Nova Scotia...it was one of the most fun things I've ever done! Must be the Newfie blood in me.

The "flatfish" gave it away, right? Yes Eagle, I am "Rock" born and bred. I left when I was eighteen and returned a few years later to be closer to my Mom. When she passed away, I left again.
No matter where I live, I'l always manage to find a fishing hole. Did you know it is illegal to jig a cod there, now! Amazing! Who's the famous uncle /explorer btw?

Lori,that is a nice exerpt from your book. Seems I could have "hooked" a good man in Swan valley. A dilettante I'm not...I can keep up and "tie one on", Ha! with the best of'em.

chickadee

Actually, Chickadee, it was the "jigging" that gave it away. I don't know about you, but for Mom, the Rock was always Home. Even after living "away" for 40-50 years, it didn't matter...her heart always belonged to her beloved Newfoundland. As a matter of fact, we still have her ashes and plan to eventually build her a beautiful stone cairn with a little window overlooking Brigus harbour.

Her famous uncle was Capt Bob Bartlett, who was the captain of Peary's ship when he discovered the North Pole; according to family legend, and a few history books, it was Capt Bob who saved Peary's life so that he was able to make it back to tell the story...although, as I understand it, whether or not it was Peary who discovered the Pole is now in contention.

Anyway, that's always been our one slim claim to fame.

If I didn't already have the sweetest man on earth "hooked" on me, I'd be tempted by that Swan Valley story...except that I hate worms and couldn't tie one on a hook if my life depended on it. Guess I'll stick with the one I've already got!

Eagle...Capt.Bob Bartlett, how exciting. As chair of the Heritage Corporation for a few years Iknow how he is an important part our past. Have you read the book, The Amazing Adventures of Captain Bob Bartlett by Susan Chalker Browne?

I miss home, visit often and will always be a "newfie". From my childhood home I could see the ocean, beach, meadow, grove, hills, pond and stream. It was paradise!
Now I'm homesick.

I too have the sweetest man on earth...I "hooked" him a few years ago. The only one I didn't catch and release

[ April 15, 2005, 02:09 PM: Message edited by: chickadee ]