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A clear morning after four days of rain… there were ducks moving everywhere, putting down in puddles that had been just promising depressions a week ago. I only saw greenheads, but it was hard not to be distracted by the sandhill cranes, ibis and grebes soaking up the rising sun. Mostly my morning had “issues” though. I’ve been struggling with Marshall’s backpack mount for three years now. I think I’m going to throw up my hands and make my own backpack mount once more. I loved the first one I made, but the one I put on my bird last night sucked. I snipped it off before I put him in the air.

And by then the ducks were gone…I could tell just by the lazy way he mounted that I had messed up our morning. I thought I could save it with the pigeon I had in my pocket, but it wouldn’t fly. And from there, it was a graceless mess of mud and awkward wings. When it was over I looked around embarassed. There was a lush smell and the pale promise of seedlings just beginning to carpet the field. The pond was rich with blue and sparking with sun as if it were pulling down the sky. The pallette of sensations was punctuated by the melodic purr and chime of calling cranes. I felt like the girl who unwittingly shows up in jeans at a gala.

I was in a hurry to leave and almost didn’t realize that the peregrine had returned without a transmitter on his leg. I was hoping for the best when I went tracking the signal. I knew exactly where it would be the strongest though…right in the middle of the pond. Figures.

I stood on the edge for a good twenty minutes. “It’s a pasture pond, how deep could it be? It had mallards in it, it’s probably shallow, right? There’s waders in my closet at home…but that’s an hour away. It’s only a $200 transmitter. Only. Who am I kidding?”

I crawled through the barbed-wire, took off my boots and waded in with my socks on, waving my new Field Marshall 4000 receiver. I went in to my thighs, and about 30 feet in the was signal promising I was right on top of the transmitter, but I couldn’t see through the thick plants I pushed aside and fine silt I stirred up. I was basically blindfolded. This is impossible, I thought, I’ll never see it, but kept dialing down the receiver and sharpening my triangulation. I had it dialed down to “near” and “1″ at the end, my antenna in the water up to the second cross of the yagi. A little to the right, a little to the left, forward, back, antenna horizontal, antenna vertical. When it was all the way down and pegging at 10…I knew I had to be practically touching it, the antenna of both the transmitter and the receiver lined up. I fished through silt and water weeds…the signal drifted. I must have touched it…at least it wasn’t buried then. I stretched my aching back and for a moment felt confident about the situation, then I looked around and thought God, I hope no one is videotaping this.

I triangulated again, fished, lost the signal and repeated the process until at last the signal had drifted right against my leg. And there it was…my RT transmitter floating above my foot. It took 45 minutes, but it hadn’t been impossible at all. What a great receiver.

I lifted up my prize and called, “got it!”, triumphant and startling a flock of redwinged blackbirds, but the five cranes crossing the sky above me were unperturbed. The peregrine flying over actually startled me for a moment, until I realized she was too big to be the one I was accustomed to hunting with. I watched her for a moment and then decided that this wasn’t what I had in mind when I aspired to immerse myself in nature. So I slogged out of the pond.

Funny though. If you forced me to give an opinion about how my morning went, I would tell you it was complete crap… but not without a smile.