I followed up on last week’s find early Saturday morning, big brown fish roaming unmolested in a pea green bayou held promise, although I couldn’t find any sign of them this morning.

Plenty of human sign, as the proximity of the roadbed means you can empty your truck of trash with no one the wiser. It explains the multitude of “No Trespassing” signs – as it appears this is prime dumping ground.

Before you start blaming us Brownliners – and bringing up contentious issues like “watercolor-profiling”, think again. We obviously welcome the additions to the landscape, and only Angelina Jolie and Madonna adopt more orphans than we do.

We take most of this stuff home, usually it’s better furnishings than we’re accustomed to – and after you sanitizing it with a quick kick off the bridge, we get years of value from your gravity-me-downs…

The Ditch ended in a forebay which was a pumping station for another nameless brown creek that parallels the Sacramento River. Lots of families were present and everyone was fishing worms and bobbers. 

I hung around hoping to see someone land something but other than the excited chatter of kids, it was slow fishing. It’s traditional August weather, which means it’s 100 degrees by 10AM, so I started thinking about the chores I needed to finish before going fishing tomorrow. 

The goats agreed, seeking the shade of the railroad trestle before their workday starts. These four legged eating machines clean all the flood control dikes so they’re not compromised by vegetation and roots. It’s a great untold symbiosis of the Central Valley, the herdsmen get free graze – and the folks in the floodplain sleep soundly knowing the earthen barriers protecting their homes aren’t weakened by forces of Nature.

The goats get to become a burrito, which is an ignoble end for such heroic service, but I always observe a moment of admiration before plowing into one.