The Pond
(Continued)

But this pond is best remembered for the bull heading we did. When all else failed, you could always count on the endless supply of bullheads available to the diehards. All along the eastern shore underneath the beautifully rowed pine trees with those wonderful hearts and initials carved in them (totally different story), you could catch all the bullheads you could ask for.

Many nights I would get to a favorite spot, find a “Y” shaped stick to jam in the ground, prop up my rods with the Mitchell 300’s proudly mounted on them, load up the hooks with a squiggly night crawler, cast it out and let it lie on the bottom. Even before dark the action was so fast you could hardly keep up. I remember many nights walking back up Bull Road in the dark, with a stringer full of bullheads slapping against my legs with those awful horns stinging the heck out of me as I went.

One particular night as Pepper and I were walking home with only moonlight lighting the way, I remember seeing a cat just ahead of us a little up the hill near where Lily-Pond Road in now located. I told Pepper to go get him and she took off like a rocket. Moments later she yelped like crazy and returned to me getting as close to me as she could. When we got home, my mom had put us both in the bathtub and got as much tomato sauce and juice from her canning stash in the cellar to wash off the smell of that darn skunk.

In the wintertime the pond was still a favorite place to be. Ice skating was always fun there. I remember on windy days getting to the western end of the ice and holding our coats open so that the wind would blow in our make-shift sails propelling us across the frozen water. Pepper would simply follow us from end to end never barking orders or a complaint.

On one occasion I remember the ice having a little too much snow on it for skating so the kids that were there decided to have a big "Fox and Geese" game. We would make a large circle in the snow by stomping it out into a big circular path. We would then make additional paths within the circle so that it resembled a sliced pie. Care was taken not to step off the path into the fresh snow. Then someone would be the fox and try and tag a goose. Once tagged you became the fox. Same if you stepped into the fresh snow, you traded in your wings for a fox tail. Even Pepper seemed to know to stay in the paths as she ran with us.

Today I travel by that old pond almost on a daily basis. The islands, once full of growing pine trees have all sunk beyond reconition, the bass are probably long gone and the bullheads? who knows. I do know that every time I pass, it never fails to spark a memory and a smile.

Memories…..Some day they may be all we have but I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Me and my friend