Up in the northland it's bluegills, pumpkinseeds, greens and hybrids. Yeah, those little panfish interbreed. I'm not sure but I like to believe the hybrids are accidents of nature rather than perverted sexuality. Milt drifts on the wrong eggs and presto, freaks of nature. They look like sunnies but the color's a little off. On the other hand the idea of sexually uninhibited panfish is kind of exciting.
They're tropical fish pretty and fun to catch. Been a while since I've purposefully killed any but I recall them as being tasty. Fillet 'em, bread 'em and fry 'em up crisp. Must be dinner time, my mouth is watering from the thought.
Last week Lois and I spent a few days up north. Needing a paddle and portage yoke was excuse enough for the three days. The peace of the woods was merely a bonus. As was the art crawl that passed within a few hundred yards of our driveway. That's where I bought the sunfish painting in a handmade wood and birchbark frame. The sunnie was a hybrid if you haven't guessed. Now it goes on the wall. Best hang it in a place where I'll be sure to see the print. Stuff on the wall has a tendency to never be noticed.
Made a reservation last night for a campsite on the night before we head into the Boundary Waters. I've been sorting through the gear and, as always, am astounded by the amount of crap. Also, how many needful things have to yet be found.