Outdoors

Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo's recent veto of a bill that would have given official status to the Montaukett Indian Nation is the latest in four centuries of affronts to the region's native peoples.
Land and water. The two most important things on the South Fork. In one sense, the water is on top, the land below.
With each day that passes, I try to extract every moment I can with my boat before it gets hauled out for the winter. Only half a dozen boats remain in the water at my local marina; about 150 of them now reside onshore, snuggly wrapped tight in white, sturdy plastic.
Wicked winds meant little fishing activity as of late.
The foliage doesn’t seem as brilliant this year as last year, but it might be that I went out too early.
One of my long-term hobbies is counting the vehicles that pass east and west in front of my house two or three times a day, but almost always at noon and 6 in the evening. The latter count is now in the dark, but the noon count is fully lighted and I can separate the vehicles into various categories: sedans, S.U.V.s, pickups, buses, government...
I like cold weather. I always have. But the wicked change in temperatures this past weekend was truly jarring for me. Just a few days prior to the freezing conditions, which were enhanced by the bitter northwesterly wind, I was walking around in shorts and a light T-shirt. I was reluctant to say goodbye to our warm weather.
As Roseanne Roseannadanna used to tell us on “Saturday Night Live,” “It’s always something,” Things haven’t changed, or is that “the more things change, the more they stay the same”? We’re living in an up-and-down world, in a dynamic equilibrium. If it weren’t for the sunrises and sunsets, the phases of the moon and the clock-like rise and fall of...
The alarm was set to wake me up at 5 on Monday morning. But I was up well before dawn. In fact, I hardly slept at all that night. There was just too much anticipation running through my body to allow for a sound, deep sleep.
While I have always enjoyed fishing on my own boat, I truly appreciate joining some friends on a charter trip.
When J.P. Giraud, the American naturalist, published his book “The Birds of Long Island” in 1844, one would be hard pressed to find a single heath hen left on Long Island. Game birds such as the heath hen, Labrador duck, and passenger pigeon disappeared early, along with the wild turkey. The first three became extinct.
Culling through the pile was no easy chore. Many were well worn and encrusted with white, dried-out barnacles. But others were in good shape.
The ospreys flew south three weeks ago.