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Father Water, Mother Woods: Essays on Fishing and Hunting in the North Woods (Anglais) MP3 CD – Livre audio, 20 novembre 2012


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MP3 CD, Livre audio, 20 novembre 2012
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--Ce texte fait référence à l'édition Poche.

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Down by the Power Dam

Every year it is necessary for fishing to start.  Even though it has gone on year-round it must have a beginning each year, and fishing always started in the spring.

In the small northern town in Minnesota where we were raised it is possible that everything started in the spring, but fishing was the most important thing, and it became vital to watch for the signs that it would begin.

There were two primary indications.

One was the car on the ice.

Pollution was not then considered nor discussed, and each year the town would put an old car on the frozen ice of the river and tie wires from the car to a clock on a tree on the bank.  The idea was that when the ice started to go out the car would fall through the ice, trip the clock, and there would be an exact record of when this event occurred.

Much was made of this whole business.  It was not just a way to dispose of old cars-- although over the years the bottom of the river became littered with them, and god only knows how many fishing lures were lost by people trying to fish around the cars and catching their hooks on door handles or bumpers.  More importantly, the old car on the ice became a contest that occupied the whole town.

Everybody guessed at the exact moment when the ice would progress enough into the "rotten" stage (also known as "honeycomb ice," which I would come to know intimately and with horror later, running dog teams on small lakes and the Bering Sea) and allow the car to drop to the bottom.

It started that simply.  At the courthouse or the library there was a large bulletin board, and for a dollar you could sign the board and write down your guess to win the car-through-the-ice raffle.  Of course, you never met anyone who had won, but only those who knew somebody who had won, and therein, in the winning, the simplicity was lost.

The raffle dominated the town.  Merchants competed with each other to put up prizes for the winner so that along with a sizable cash award there were dozens, hundreds of other prizes, and all of them had to do with summer and most of them had to do with fishing.

Rods, reels, life jackets, lures, anchors, boats, picnic baskets, motors--it was said that a person could win the raffle and be set for life as far as fishing or summer was concerned, and as the time approached people would find reasons to walk or drive along the river to see the old car.

"Oh, I had to run down to the elevator and check on grain prices," they would say.  "The car has one wheel through but she's still hanging there."

"My aunt's been feeling poor," they would say, about an aunt they hadn't spoken to in twelve years, "and I thought I should stop by and check on her.  The car has both rear wheels down now.  She's just hanging there, teetering..."

"Your aunt?"

"No, the car, you ninny--the car on the ice."

And as the time grew still closer there were those who would come and sit with bottles in paper sacks and fur caps and boogers hanging out their noses and drink and spit and scratch and wait and sometimes pray; just sit there and wait for the car to fall and make their fortunes.

Naturally it never happened when anybody thought it would happen, but it always signaled the end, the final end of winter.

And the beginning of spring.  Also, when the ice became that rotten it began the signal to the fish that spawning was close.

The second indication was the light.

All winter the light had been low, flat, cold.  In midwinter it became light in the morning at nine or so and began to get dark at three-thirty or four in the afternoon on a cloudy day, and most of the time it seemed to be dark and cold.

But as spring came and the ice became rotten on the river the light moved, was a thing alive.  The sun came back north, like an old friend that seemed to have been gone forever, and it changed everything, changed the way things looked. There was still snow, still cold at light, but during the day it was brighter, clearer; everything seemed bathed in soft gold.

People changed as well.  During the winter, talk--what talk there was--was always short and to the point and almost always seemed to be on weather-related problems: how difficult it was to start a car in the cold, who was sick with a cold, who was getting sick, who had been sick and was getting well only to get sick again, how it was necessary to drain the car radiators at night (this was before antifreeze) and refill them with warm water when it was time to start them the next day and how they almost never started and wasn't it a shame that the car companies, the Car Companies with all their money, couldn't design a car to start in the winter?

The light changed all that, made the winter end, though there was still more cold weather, still more mornings when nostril hairs stuck to the insides of your nose and the combed ducktails froze on the way to school, more days when it was possible to play the joke where somebody talks somebody else--and where do they keep coming from, the ones who can be talked into these things?--into pushing their tongue out on a frozen propane tank where it would stick and leave a piece of tongue-skin.

The light changed all things.

It was the same sun, and it seemed to come up at the same time, but it rose higher and made gold, new gold that altered everything.  Jacobsen's Bakery, where we would get free fresh hot rolls sometimes in the morning to carry when we delivered papers--two rolls each, one in the mouth and one still hot in the pocket of the jacket for later--the bakery was transformed.  It had been an old brick building with a loading ramp on the back for the truck to get the fresh bread, and now, in the new gold light it became a bright castle of fresh bread smells and beauty; rising out of the alley next to the Montgomery Ward (always, always called the Monkey Wards) store.

The trees near the library, still without leaves, still with scrabbly arms that reached into the sky, did not seem ominous now but reaching.  And the library seemed to shine with warmth and beckoned in the new light, and it became impossible to believe in winter any longer, only in the newness of spring.

And fishing. --Ce texte fait référence à l'édition Poche .

Revue de presse

"This book is obviously a feast for the outdoor lover--the hunter, fisherman, or camper--but it will also draw those who love the beauty of the carefully crafted description, so detailed and vivid....The essence of Paulsen."--Booklist

"The pieces are rooted in the details of a youth spent in search of perfection: the perfect cast, perfect catch, perfect shot...On target." --School Library Joumal

"Descriptions of light and water, of fish and wildlife, kindle in the reader a measure of the author's own complex respect for nature."
--Publishers Weekly, Starred Review --Ce texte fait référence à l'édition Poche .


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Amazon.com: 9 commentaires
5 internautes sur 5 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
Bringing The Outside In 22 janvier 2003
L'évaluation d'un enfant - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Poche
This book truly brings nature to your fingertips. As a reader, I felt as if I was out in the wild, experiencing everything of which Paulsen wrote. With the descriptive settings and easy-to-relate-to tales, Paulsen makes the reader feel as if they have entered the woods along with the characters in the story. The essays on fishing and hunting in the northern woods are definitely his best work yet! This book is easy to follow, yet has very deep and interesting accounts.
I recommend this illustration to anyone who enjoys the great outdoors. If you want to learn about cold, winter morning fishing excursions, or hot, summer days in the woods, this is the perfect book to help fulfill your curiosity. Father Water Mother Woods is worth your time of reading and is definitely a classic.
5 internautes sur 5 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
Great!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 2 avril 1999
Par Un client - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Relié
This is one of the best books I have read about outdoors. The stories were exellently written and engulfed me in the happnings. I felt as if I could smell the crisp morning air on the first day of hunting season.I would give this book 50 stars but there is only five on the sheet.
3 internautes sur 3 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
Review of Father Water, Mother Woods 20 janvier 2001
Par Stephanie Terry - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Poche
Paulsen writes about seasons in his hometown being determined by types of fish caught down by the dam, under the Ninth street bridge, or in frozen lakes, and not by dates on calendars. When fishing ends, hunting is the obsession for Paulsen and friends he calls "orphans of the woods." He explains, "When we were in the woods or fishing the rivers and lakes our lives didn't hurt."
This book is a nature lover's choice. Paulsen writes of growing up in a small Minnesota town and he intertwines this town's life with stories of adventurous boys. Two of my favorite essays are "Running the River" and "Bow Hunting." The first is a hilarious tale of an overplanned camping trip gone wrong when the boat, full of supplies and boys, sinks, forcing the boys to walk back to town. "Bow Hunting" is a coming of age essay in which a boy, after killing his first doe, poignantly describes his realization that while his life will continue, hers will not.
2 internautes sur 2 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
Excellent Book 20 septembre 1999
Par Un client - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Poche
This is an excellent book. The book is written in such detail that it is easy to imagine yourself being there. This is a great book for those of any age. It will bring back some good memories of your childhood.
One of my favorite books. I remember reading it when I was ... 8 décembre 2014
Par pbrstreetgang - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Format Kindle Achat vérifié
One of my favorite books. I remember reading it when I was a fourth grader back in the nineties and I would compare it to my own lifestyle of growing up in the Upper Midwest. Remembered the book recently and bought it for my kindle to take with me to the treestand. Think I read it in after one or two hunts. Now it reminds me of my childhood and the feelings I would get in the outdoors. Simply awesome book even though it is an easier read (meant for young adults). Still you can tell Paulsen put his heart into it. Wish there were more authors who wrote with that kind of passion about the outdoors.
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