Winter still held the swamp in sleepy repose. We had scarcely rounded the first bend when we were startled by a swirl of water erupting beneath an overhanging branch. A bowfin, perhaps 3 feet long, had taken a catfish bait. Like most serious fishermen, we have several sure-fire secret holes that almost always produce fish. An oak leaning into the water has always yielded a bass or two, there's a crappie bed where the creek turns back on itself, and a bream bonanza waits down by the beaver lodge.
Cypress swamps are places of beauty and mystery, providing sanctuary for wildlife.
Nuthatches flitted along the banks, red-shouldered hawks called. Wood ducks flushed from the bottoms, their home shared with otter and beaver, bear and raccoon, fox and cottonmouth, alligator and snapping turtle, bobcat and possum. These wetlands are chock-full of bird life, from kingfishers to prothonotary warblers, where owls' hooting sends shivers down the spine and swaying curtains of Spanish moss offer shelter and nesting material. Tangles of roses and hawthorn, cones, nuts and berries, waterbugs and other insects, and algae and fish of every description are a virtual cornucopia of delights to satisfy any appetite. Against a blue-gray background, wet, woolly clouds scooted overhead.