One of the great things about Seneca Lake is all of the activity, by people, birds and animals of all sorts, shapes and sizes. Seneca is a huge body of water, thirty six miles long and 600 plus feet deep in some places. At its widest point it’s a little more than a mile. It’s a great place for boating, fishing and watching nature in every season of the year. Because of its depth and the movement created by such a huge body of water, it hardly ever freezes except along the edges. For the same reasons the water temperature remains pretty cool throughout the summer months although this year it has been warmer than usual.
When I was a young boy growing up in New Jersey, my father had a salesman friend who had connections with Seneca Lake. I was about 5 years old when my father, my brother and I traveled from NJ with his friend for a week of fishing on Seneca. As a matter of fact, where I currently live is directly across from where all of us stayed in a cottage, fishing for Lake Trout, skipping stones and enjoying the surrounding area. We made this trip a number of times over the years. My father’s friend had a 16 ft Penn Yan runabout that he ultimately sold to my father. I remember trailering that boat across Rt 79, through NY and down to Jersey and then a year or so later up to Cape Cod where my mother and father had purchased a cottage. Those were long and challenging trips in the days before Interstates. Those are a few of my my earliest memories of this beautiful lake known as Seneca. One of the lakes that Native Americans lived around, crossed and fished for many years.
So now I sit and enjoy the comings and goings on Seneca Lake. There are many, but I’ll share a few of the most recent. There are two characters who I watch regularly. They force the issue since they go back and forth daily in front of my dock and deck. I’ve named them both Rusty just because they need a name and that one seems to fit them well. The first is Rusty the Crow. He arrived in the early spring and has found a place to build a nest just north of my house. Well I watch Rusty go back and forth in front of the deck. First building a nest and now feeding his or perhaps her young. In reality it’s most likely two Crows but I’m not good enough to figure that out.
When I was a young boy growing up in New Jersey, my father had a salesman friend who had connections with Seneca Lake. I was about 5 years old when my father, my brother and I traveled from NJ with his friend for a week of fishing on Seneca. As a matter of fact, where I currently live is directly across from where all of us stayed in a cottage, fishing for Lake Trout, skipping stones and enjoying the surrounding area. We made this trip a number of times over the years. My father’s friend had a 16 ft Penn Yan runabout that he ultimately sold to my father. I remember trailering that boat across Rt 79, through NY and down to Jersey and then a year or so later up to Cape Cod where my mother and father had purchased a cottage. Those were long and challenging trips in the days before Interstates. Those are a few of my my earliest memories of this beautiful lake known as Seneca. One of the lakes that Native Americans lived around, crossed and fished for many years.
So now I sit and enjoy the comings and goings on Seneca Lake. There are many, but I’ll share a few of the most recent. There are two characters who I watch regularly. They force the issue since they go back and forth daily in front of my dock and deck. I’ve named them both Rusty just because they need a name and that one seems to fit them well. The first is Rusty the Crow. He arrived in the early spring and has found a place to build a nest just north of my house. Well I watch Rusty go back and forth in front of the deck. First building a nest and now feeding his or perhaps her young. In reality it’s most likely two Crows but I’m not good enough to figure that out.
Crows tend to fly and gather in large flocks in trees in the early evening hours. Many cities try to discourage these gatherings with noise making and light machines. It seems as though Rusty has gotten sick of all of that city living and fighting for space so he and his girl have become lake property owners and vacationers. I guess we’ll see if they stay throughout the winter. I honestly enjoy watching him fly back and forth doing what he does every day, three or four times an hour. He and the squirrels and the feral cats have figured out how to coexist with an occasional Caw, Caw to stake out his territory.
And then there’s Rusty the fisherman. I also see Rusty the fisherman everyday, heading south in his aluminum boat powered by an outboard, sitting in the back usually with a beer and traveling at a good clip. Now here’s the thing. He’s always heading south. I’ve never seen him going the other way. My guess is that he lives to the south and starts his trips by heading across the lake, going north, coming back across and heading home to the south. But that’s just a guess. Rusty’s an old time and experienced fisherman. You can tell by his poise and confidence. He enjoys what he does and loves the lake in good weather and bad. Even from a distance you can tell his skin is tanned and well weathered. His shirts are tattered. Sometimes he’s bare chested and sometimes he’s layered with sweatshirts and hooded garments. He always travels at the same speed seeming anxious to get home with his catch or perhaps stories of the day. He’s a loner. I've never seen him with a friend or partner or even stop to talk to another fisherman. It’s all good because it allows me to imagine his story, his life and his mission in life. One day he's a survivor, living off of the land in a ramshackle cottage and the next he's a well to do entrepreneur visiting his summer haven.
And then there’s Rusty the fisherman. I also see Rusty the fisherman everyday, heading south in his aluminum boat powered by an outboard, sitting in the back usually with a beer and traveling at a good clip. Now here’s the thing. He’s always heading south. I’ve never seen him going the other way. My guess is that he lives to the south and starts his trips by heading across the lake, going north, coming back across and heading home to the south. But that’s just a guess. Rusty’s an old time and experienced fisherman. You can tell by his poise and confidence. He enjoys what he does and loves the lake in good weather and bad. Even from a distance you can tell his skin is tanned and well weathered. His shirts are tattered. Sometimes he’s bare chested and sometimes he’s layered with sweatshirts and hooded garments. He always travels at the same speed seeming anxious to get home with his catch or perhaps stories of the day. He’s a loner. I've never seen him with a friend or partner or even stop to talk to another fisherman. It’s all good because it allows me to imagine his story, his life and his mission in life. One day he's a survivor, living off of the land in a ramshackle cottage and the next he's a well to do entrepreneur visiting his summer haven.
Now of course there are many more comings and goings on Seneca Lake - the summer crowd, the fish, the boats, the cats, coyotes, deer and of course the natural beauty - but those are a few that reach out to capture my attention on a regular basis. The lake has so many stories and so much history. I write things down and capture some of it as I can and will continue to share on this site as time permits.
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