The Dead of Winter

 

Way back during my youthful Neanderthal era, when camped out at Bobcat I came to buy my bait minnows from an old man named Albert Sailey. Mr. Sailey trapped his own minnows from a creek on his property. Even during winter, or so I was told.

Mr. Sailey's bait business was 24/7, self serve and on the honor system, as needed.

Driving to the back of his garage where the minnow tanks were kept, you'd pass over one of those hoses like full service gas stations used to have and the sharp -Ding Ding- of prospective commerce broke the northwoods silence.

Born in 1907 and tough like weathered leather, by that time Mr. Sailey was well into his seventies. Sometimes he'd come ambling out of his house, often he wouldn't.

It could be that after a few years of regular business during my annual autumn visits, if Albert saw it was me, he might choose to stay inside. Mr. Sailey was the only authentic northwoods codger I'd ever met and I wasn't shy about sharing my enthusiasm for the area and the tough life that entailed, though I was a prairie kid on vacation and he, the genuine U.P. article.

In other words, I absolutely was a pest.

Maybe someday I'll tell the story of how in winter Mr. Sailey prevented porcupines  trying to get at the accumulated road salt from chewing through his car's brake lines. Maybe not. When it came to varmint control, Albert Sailey was definitely old school.

One year late in September and winter bearing down hard on the season, I regaled Mr. Sailey with how dearly I wanted to move up there, from my childhood prairie. Enraptured by the overripe autumn woods, my enthusiasm for the place fairly overflowed.

The old man peered at me through milky blue eyes for what seemed like forever. Had I possibly said something to offend?

"Yep. Petty nice," he said. Then he paused, as if giving the thought all due consideration. "Winter's kinda long though."

Indeed.

So here's to wise words once delivered by Mr. Albert Sailey to a pesky young enthusiast blinded not by cataracts, but by the land they both dearly loved. The young man now nearly as old as the old man was then, but with said northwoods wisdom well remembered by me.