outdoors

    Thanksgiving is perhaps the one holiday that has not yet had its meaning sucked from it by commercial vampires, at least not here on the East End. Maybe because of the wild turkeys grazing along the side of the road.  ...
On Sunday, just when it seemed the surfcasting season was over, boaters began finding striped bass feeding on schools of herring
Leaves. We can’t live without them; some of us can’t live with them, particularly so after they’ve all fallen and coated every inch of landscape
I’ve been hatching out Salt Lake brine shrimp eggs in local seawater for a year and a half. At room temperature, they hatch out into swimming in two days and at about a tenth of a millimeter in length they are barely visible to the naked eye.
“However ridiculous it may sound to have a queen, the pound is worth more than our dollar,” was Harvey Bennett’s way of announcing that the British were not only coming, they are here.
The leaves are falling. It’s cold. No Indian summer this trip around the sun. No doubt a frigid winter is in store.
    When he ventured forth with a bag of live eels on Saturday night, John Bruno led the Montauk SurfMasters surfcasting tournament in the wetsuit division. The fish that had put him at the top of the heap a few weeks earlier...
Napeague Harbor is the only tidal embayment tributary to the Peconic Estuary that has never had any part of its surface waters closed to shellfishing because of pollution.
As far as animals without backbones are concerned, insects rule the land, crustaceans co-rule the seas.
Sunday was Oct. 9, but it felt like Aug. 9. The parking lot at Montauk Point State Park was full. Fishing boats were spread out on the tide line like stepping stones leading all the way to Block Island.
The leaves are beginning to color up. The tupelos, dogwoods, red maples, and sassafras are always the first to turn.
“Insane,” was how Ken Rafferty, a light-tackle and fly-fishing guide described the action from Shagwong to Montauk Point over the weekend.
    It’s like reading tea leaves or entrails — cue the eerie music: What does it portend when surfcasters see schools of small bunker and large sand eels in the wash, but not a lot of bluefish?