I just returned from a wonderful weekend vacation with my in-laws in the mountains of North Carolina. My recent reunion with the hobby of fly fishing had me quivering with anticipation for the trout that were awaiting me in the Nantahala River. I literally felt a groaning within as we got closer to the mountains...a strange inexplicable magnetism to the stream somewhere in my gut that seemed to make the harsh lines that seperate man from wild soften and dissolve.
As soon as we arrived at the cabin and upacked, I put my gear in the car and headed for a local tackle shop to go about the legal process of fishing in NC (don't want to upset the people who "own the river"). I got my license and asked about a good public access point and fishing location on the Nantahala River. I was told of a place 5 miles down Wayah road between a bridge and a powerhouse". It sounded cryptic but I thought I could figure it out.
I found the bridge and figured, to be safe, I'd just fish in the river near the bridge since I wasn't sure where the powerhouse was.
I stepped in, tried to "listen to the river" a bit to get my fly choice right and then on cast #2 I caught a beautiful "brookie" (brook trout) that, up to that point, was the biggest of my life.
Then they pulled up. You know who I mean too.
Trout in one hand and fly rod under arm, I raised a friendly peace sign to the federal officers in their white ford SUV. "You guys came at just the right time" I said as the senior officer and his side-kick stepped towards the stream. "They're hittin' on the blue-wing olives today!" I said excitedly. "is 'at a fact!?" the older one said with a smile and followed his seemingly interested comment with "we'll need to see your license".
At this point, I thought the check was routine. They saw my SC plates, they knew I was an out-of-towner. No big deal. What I didn't realize is that I picked the wrong side of the bridge to fish on. Literally 20 yards in the other direction and I wouldn't have been sandbagged with a stiff $125 fine for fishing in federal waters.
When I realized that I was actually getting a ticket for being 20 yards in the wrong direction, my blood boiled. I stayed calm and polite so as not to make matters worse, but inside a tempest was brewing.
How can "we" (meaning the desk-anchored bureaucrats) draw imaginary lines to seperate what we consider to be our side of the sandbox from "the other guy's side". For a species of organisms that has such a blip of an existence on our planet, why do we feel like we as individuals, or as small organizations, are entitiled to what has been here long before us and will continue to be long after we're gone? As Christians, what kind of stewardship is that kind of thinking?
So with that...here is a quote from Dwamish Chief Sealth of Seatle in a letter written to President Franklin Pierce in 1854:
..."how can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?
Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every clearing, and every humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my people. The sap which courses through the trees carries the memories of the red man. So, when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land, he asks much of us...
This we know: All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself..."
- Chief Sealth, 1854
well said my friend.
No comments:
Post a Comment