Maureen catching a char after making sure Biscuit was
far away and not
about to surprise her.









When Biscuit, Chico and Rosie
were small I caught fish for
them occasionally.








This past season Biscuit and I
would look for fish together. In
this photo I have a stone in
my hand and am about to throw
it in the direction of a
floating salmon.
(see August 21st entry).

(Click on any Image to see a higher resolution version)

While working on our annual report for 2001 I wrote about a couple things that happened which I had not found time to write while we were in Kamchatka. I have illustrated them from our slide files - some from previous years and some from this season.

Trust Tested Unintentionally
This September, I experienced something that inadvertently illustrated the depth of the trust that has developed between Biscuit and myself.

Maureen catches most of the fish for our personal consumption in the creek a short distance from the cabin. She takes great care to make sure that Biscuit is somewhere far away when she goes fishing because of the danger of the big treble hook getting into Biscuit's mouth or gullet if she came and took a fish from the line. If it did not kill her, it would definitely cause a lot of pain and trouble and complicate her struggle to put on enough fat to hibernate.

After Maureen left for Canada this fall, I saw Biscuit swim across the bay and start on what I thought would be a long circuit around the lake in search of salmon. I took the rod to catch myself a char. The many char in a big pool range in size from one to four pounds, with the majority in the smaller range, but I hooked into one of the larger ones and it was jumping all over the pool as I struggled to reel it in. This took a while, and as I began to wear down its lively energy to the point of landing it for my supper I heard a noise behind me and to my great surprise I saw Biscuit running towards me, obviously having decided not to go around the lake. It was also obvious that she had spotted the turmoil of the jumping char and probably remembered how I had caught fish for her and her siblings when they were very small cubs. As Biscuit raced down the long slope of the creek bank toward me in a high- speed charge, I was still reeling the fish into shallow water. It was coming directly toward my feet with its back out of the water, giving Biscuit a clear and easy target to aim for.

Without thinking, I dropped the rod, took a flying leap and belly-flopped on top of the char, beating Biscuit at doing the same thing by only a second or two. Having often watched how bears do this, using my elbows I too was able to hold the big fish under me, but it was so large that its tail was flapping the side of my face. The reduced visibility from water and fish slime on my glasses did not prevent me from noting that by now Biscuit was standing over me, obviously wondering why I was suddenly so possessive about something I had always been very generous about letting her have, no questions asked.

As I told her NO in an urgent voice I realized this was testing the trust we had in each other more than it had ever been tested before. Biscuit's front feet were only twelve inches away from my face as she literally stood over me watching the big char's tail flap against my chin. By this time, one of the other treble hooks protruding from the fish's mouth was hooked in the front of my jacket, which would solve the problem of Biscuit potentially ending up with the hook, providing it had a better grip on my nylon coat than it had on the fish. Eventually I understood that the char had come loose and so I raised up enough to let it flop away. Biscuit had to jump over me to pounce on it, which she did with great agility. I extracted myself from the chaos and gathered my equipment before heading back to the cabin very wet, with no fish for supper, but happily amazed at how my mistake had been resolved.

- Charlie