Cooley Lake CA

Did not want to waste this beautiful day! It was about 60*, sunny and completely calm- conditions that are not too common.

The entrance road to the park is still iced over- as is the river and the wetland area. When the sun was able to peak from between clouds, you could hear the ice on the river fracture andd melt. On the more stagnant areas of the river, about 4 inches of ice blanketed the surface, creating a smooth, clean hwy for critters. A dog- looked to be a pet- strolled on by. It walked about 60ft from shore; avoiding the soft spots of the ice and the puddles that had accumulated on top of the ice. I feared for the dog as it seemed he could break through at any moment!

I carried my shotgun; Im still trying to get my goose for the season. THe season runs until the end of the month and there are PLENTY of birds still out there. I stuck to the fields near the river and dipped down to the bank once in a while. I shot at a couple - no luck!

The bank of the missouri is like a history book; a collection of artifacts from any year can be found in the held layers of the soft bank or mixed with centuries of human commotion on any sandbar. You can find light bricks of coal from the last few decades or magnificant pieces of timber from past centuries. Bottles, nails, china and shot shells provide a record of activity since the river saw it's first european settlements. Pottery and arrowheads display the long presence of native americans. Bones and skeletons of livestock tell of a century of floods and those of deer, bison and even elk have been coloured by hundreds of years of red clay.

I enjoyed shifting through the colourful rocks and crystals on the back when I was startled; POP!

I flinched to the close sound of a gunshot. It was not like that of a shotgun of even a rifle and I spotted a large man starring at me from near the boatramp about 500 yrds away. I thought he'd shot at me and knelt behind a beached boat on my sandbar. Crime is common near cooley lake. I glanced at him again- he shot his pistol in the air several times and a smaller man in a dark jacket appeared. HE was carrying something- a body? I couldnt believe my mind would come to the conclusion so quickly. Maybe he had shot in my direction because he didnt know I was there- its why he was starring at me after the shot. I flashed on a mob scene!
The smaller man through the large, limp object into the river and I snapped a photo through a hole in the boat. It made a recognisable thump in the mud. They began to walk up the hill and I scurried off the sandbar into the brush. I snatched up my shotgun and began slowly to walk toward the ramp to investigate. A last gunshot echoed across the river and I arrived at the boat ramp. There was no car and no people- I continued to the river. A trail of blood led me from a wet spot near the tree line to the body on the muddy bank. It was a dog. A young, beautiful bulldog with a shot to it's forehead and an exit wound in its neck. Its blood was absorbed by the snad and mud-
A sad sight, but it couldve been worse!

I went on with my day trip- Stumbled upon a large dead tree in a mitigation area. the ground was soggy and I noticed several green things near my feet. The sound of an ARMY OF GEESE silenced the river; they flew high above me... .I focused and shot at the lead bird. Of course I did not kill him!

A few seconds later I heard a small, violent snap of the branch next to me. Another. And a thud in the moist ground. My shot was raining down on me. The geese were fighting back! I covered my head for a few seconds, though I was never hit. A juvi eagle appeared over the treeline to my left. He flew a little higher and slower and slower. A final flap of his wings landed him on one of the highest branches of this large, dead tree infront of me. I reached for my camera and he paniced. A few strong, silent waves and he was again high in the air- traveling quickly in the direction from which he came. Another few minutes passed. I waited- enjoying the warm sun on my skin and the sound of birds and ice on the river. Woody- A pileated woodpecker mad his precence know on his undulating route to the same community tree. I heard his claws hit the hollow tree and he made his way to the top in a few short vertical leaps. He made a call and pecked a few times, adjusted his position and pecked again. Dissatisfied, i suppose, he fell from the brach; his face and body lit by the sun behind me. His incredible wingspan only appeared a few times before he was gone over the treeline. I thought I would call it a day, but found myself on the otherside of the property in minutes. A park-users car radio was just about the only thing to hear, but for the cattails and ice crunching beneath my boots. An arrow stuck in a tree.

The sun went low and I lay on the frozen surface of the wetland to snap a few shots of a sunset. My stomach was cold and wet on the melting ice and again I decieded to make my way home. The radio shut up, then blasted again. He left and I hung for a few moments before the sunset.