We started today off with a nice pancake and bacon breakfast. Real Canadian maple syrup certainly hit the spot. We debated whether to head out for a morning fish or to wait and the afternoon won out. Edward went for a walk along the shoreline while Jerry took the canoe out for a nice, solo paddle.

Looking outside, we noticed another woodpecker. Could it be Chip? He was clinging to a nearby pine tree with his head tucked in. The sun was on him and the morning was colder. It seemed like he was taking the opportunity to soak up some of the warm rays. A bit later he was huddled on the ground and as the morning wore on we’d spot him in various spots of sun. Just like yesterday, he was oblivious or uncaring about our presence no matter how close we got to him.

Unfortunately, things weren’t well. I was intrigued by him and kept watch over him. That’s when I realized that he was struggling to keep his head up and I knew that he wasn’t well. At one point, as I observed him from the deck, I noticed that his head just rolled over to the side and he was unable to support it on his own. I ended up putting my work gloves on and went to check on him. I carefully picked him up and he did nothing to get away from me. His large eyes simply looked at me. Perhaps he knew I just wanted to help.

Chip was so active and seemed so much larger that we think this might be another woodpecker but it’s hard to be sure. I spent the better part of an hour cradling him. I took him down by the water to sit on the sand. His eyes would flutter as he tried to keep them open. A couple of times he gathered enough strength to flap his wings but only once made it out of my hands. I couldn’t catch him in time and he landed face first in the sand. I carefully cleared the sand from around his face and beak. Each foot was adorned with four large talons which allow him to cling to the trees, or my gloved fingers.

There were moments where he could hold his head upright on his own. Times when he seemed alert. Most of the time, however, he simply lay still. I stroked his red cape and rubbed behind his head. My hand ran down the black feathers of his back. I don’t have any way of knowing if I brought him any comfort or not, but I hope that as he was in the last moments of his life, he was in a state of peace. He wasn’t agitated to be in my hands, at least.

As I held him, I had many moments where I thought I’d lost him. Only the soft breaths I felt in my hands reassured me that he was still alive. I sat on the beach at the water’s edge and talked to him. I wanted his last moments to be calming and soothing. I didn’t want the poor bird to suffer. It broke my heart when he opened his eyes fully and let out a soft call. Perhaps he was saying thank you. Or maybe goodbye.

Feeling that the end was near, I carried him back to a tall pine. Around its base was a soft layer of moss and pine needles. I gently laid him beside the trunk using a small root to prop his head up. He lay there a few minutes before his eyes fluttered one last time and froze. His vacant stare was a clear sign that he was gone.

I found a shovel near the utility shed and scouted out a final resting place for my feathered friend. I located a spot in a small stand of pines with what appeared to be softer soil. The blade of the shovel drove into the dirt and I began to dig a hole for his grave. After tossing several rocks aside I felt that he would be happy with what I’d done. I carefully laid him in the grave and covered him with toilet paper to keep the dirt off of him as much as possible.

I returned the dirt to the hole and said farewell to my new friend. Rest easy.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, we loaded up the boats and motored towards the sandbar. We stopped along the way to hit our main honey hole and Jerry was hooked up almost immediately. He would prove to be on fire for most of the afternoon. We had several fish hooked up within minutes. We didn’t stay long, though, since we really wanted to hit the sandbar which was supposed to hold some nice bass fishing.

I positioned our boat where I thought we’d drift the full run of the sandbar but the wind was unpredictable and ended up pushing us into the shore rather than across it. After a couple of failed attempts, I pushed us out to about 100 yards offshore and we definitely did better. Unfortunately, the fish were smaller. Jerry did get a very nice smallie and I landed another walleye. Overall, though, the sandbar didn’t live up to its hype.

We headed back to the main hole where I’d caught my first smallie and Jerry, Edward and I all hooked up but nothing in the keeper zone. We had almost limited out on walleye and had a couple of smallies. I made a final cast to the secret spot and sure enough had a wonderful hit and the fight that followed was fun. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be and it got off before I could land it.

We headed back to the cabin with another stringer full of fish, fired up the gas stove, and fried up some nice walleye and bass. We did potatoes on the grill and threw in some peas for a little flair. The night sky was clear once again and as the cold moved in we lit our first campfire of the trip. It did a wonderful job of keeping the chill at bay and gave us a great setting for an evening of camaraderie. As we sat around the campfire soaking up its wonderful warmth, we raised a toast to our feathered friend.