By ELMER (JOE) SPRICKThe label in one of my old field jackets reads "Hirsch Weiss," the German moniker for the White Stag Clothing Co.
One perfect November day, while fishing in the Mississippi River bottoms south of Wabasha, Minn., I saw a real white stag.
On that unusually warm Nov. 2, I hadn't felt the need to bring my camera. I had already taken enough photos of fall colors, big crappies, bluegills and most of my fishing partners, young and old.
My fishing partners that day were Doc Knudsen and Ralph O'Connor. Doc provided the boat and guide service. Ralph provided the commentary, as he was born and raised near the section of river where we were fishing. He knew every slough and backwater in that vast area, now known as the Upper Mississippi Wildlife Refuge. This day we would fish some of his favorite spots near West Newton.
As we motored from one slough to another, we could easily spot the high water mark on the tall cottonwood, ash, soft maple and river birch trees. Those next to the water had been badly scarred by ice floes during spring flooding.
It began to appear that the highlight of our day would be lunch. One of us usually manages to catch a fish while eating lunch, and today it was my turn: I caught a 3-inch largemouth bass. At 1 p.m., our intrepid guide stated that he would take us to one more good spot before we gave up. His intentions were of the best, but because the water was so low, the propeller began churning up bottom mud.
We were about to turn around when I spotted something white on the shore of a small island. It gleamed in the sun and appeared to be draped over a large log. Slowly, we moved closer.
My first reaction was that it was a stuffed animal -- but why out here in the middle of nowhere? Then I saw one of its ears move. Eventually I could make out the head of a deer with a forked horn on one side and a long spike on the other.
About 50 feet from the white buck, Doc and I got out of the boat and began to walk slowly toward it. It quickly got to its feet and bounded off into the water, swimming to the next small island. If it stayed on the Minnesota side of the channel, it would be unprotected fair game the next day, the opening day of buck season.
Upon returning home, I picked up the mail and found the November-December copy of the Minnesota Conservation Volunteer magazine. On its cover was a photo of an albino buck that appeared identical, right down to the unusual antlers, to the deer we had seen that afternoon.
We had not gotten quite close enough to the deer to determine if it had pink eyes, the test of a true albino, but we certainly had witnessed a rare phenomenon in nature -- a white stag hiding out on his own little island.
Fish or no fish, my day was made.
No comments:
Post a Comment