Red fish—coho salmon, if I'm not mistaken—are afoot (afin?) in my local creek. Wickersham is teeming with them as they fight their way upstream to spawn. Even I, the mighty Fenway Bartholomule, am amazed at their strength and endurance as they crawl bodily through the shallow rapids, their slippery, contorted forms braced against a rushing torrent, nobly surmounting obstacles in sheer determination.
You may be aware that the Whatcom Land Trust—an organization with much Muleness—owns much of Wickersham's open space, including and not limited to the 63 acre Samish headwaters which directly adjoin Bent Barrow Farm. These great big fish, each longer than my head (ears too!), people the headwaters and their tributary creeks for several weeks every third autumn. The last time the salmon spawned here in Wickersham, I belonged to the neighbor and FarmWife was merely a covetous acquaintance. To think, these fish have lived a whole life since then! Hatched, lived, returned to die.
Here is a photo of me, Fenway Bartholomule, sacrificing my bit cleanliness and my respectability in FarmWife's eyes by personally clearing the banks. Note how fully I give of myself to aid these brave fish in their noble efforts. Anything a fellow can do to help, you know?
Tomorrow, I'll tell you all about the impact these fish are having on other wildlife in a post entitled "the Birds of Bray."