Shadows Shadows I love fishing at dusk. The river then seems more itself, more natural and less man made. In the day the comings and goings of boats, trucks, trailers, fishermen with bait buckets, coolers and lunch make the river busy, working. The day river is a distraction, something not itself, a reminder of patterns and life beyond the river. As the day winds down, most of the fishermen leave.
Supper pulls most of the fishermen off the day river.
Sometimes I fish down the last leg of a stretch to end up at the parking lot just as the others are leaving. I wait at my truck, perhaps messing about in my tackle, and then, as most of the others leave, I go back to the river. This is the dusk river, the real river. I think wild things not only prefer the spatial edge of habitat, the transition zone between their feeding place and their shelter, but also the temporal edge, the transition zones between day and night. In my experience with deer, turkey, fish, and other animals the bulk of the activity I see is either just at dawn or juat at dusk.