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January 26, 1989 - January Clamming: Wintry but Worth ItPage SA/The Suffolk Times /January 26, 1989 January Clamming: Wintry but Worth It By Paul Stoutenbursth It was one of those wonderful winter days when the real cold left and the sun had a chance to warm the earth enough so you felt like getting out and doing something. It didn't take my son Roger long to convince me that it was a good time to try some clamming. So we cal- Focus on Nature culated when low tide would be and set the time. Now I know there are many rugged baymen who spend most of their winter days out on the bay following their trade. I take my hat off to them for they are a hardy breed and one I'll always bow to. But not being a bayman, it's quite different for me to venture out and face the elements in the middle of win- ter. Yet there is something special about going out when the elements are con- trary. Preparation is always a big part of any adventure and it took some time to round up the misplaced clam rakes, old oars, outboard motor, gas cans and other paraphernalia to help make the trip suc- cessful. We had faith in the clam rakes. We could see their bars and iron parts were still strong and their fastenings se- cure. There was still a lot of work left in them. The old ash oars were as good as the day they were made — a few knocks and scrape marks, but their soul was solid and true. The one piece of equipment we were a bit concerned about (and the reason for the oars) was the old outboard my son had been nursing along through the years. It had lost its shine and in many places the light -blue paint was worn off, leaving the raw, cold aluminum show- ing through. He tried to get it started a day or so before but with little luck. Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh OLDSQUAW DUCKS —These handsome black- End waters each winter. On quiet days listen for their and -white sea ducks are found throughout the East wonderful, wild call from across the water. Outboard Kicked Up That night he'd taken the top off and gotten into the guts of it and now with two new spark plugs he thought he had it conquered, but in true outboard fash- ion the yanks and pulls didn't give even a cough from the now - chilled motor. Soon the top came off and some starter fluid was squirted into the carburetor opening. More yanks and pulls, a few coughs and some blue smoke. She was alive! More adjustments, more beetle juice, and she started to purr as good as the first day she was pulled. As we headed out of the creek a small group of bufflehead took off in front of us. They wheeled, banked, gained alti- tude and headed out into the bay. The The Suffolk Times 0 (we've got you covered) FAbRiZIO'S a I Features of the week ti DINNER SpEC1Al5 SERVEd ThuRSdAy THRough SUNdAy Manicotti Flounder Parmesan $6.00 or Scampi w /spaghetti $4.50 Chicken Cacciatore w /spa hetti all served w /soup, $$.00 salad, bread, dessert & coffee Dinner Hours Thurs. & Sun. 5p.m.- 9p.m., Fri. & Sat. 5p.m. - 1 op.m. Closed Mon. -Wed. 212 Front Street, Greenport • 477 -2494 male, in all his black -and -white splen- dor, headed the group with the females lagging behind in their dull blackish - brown winter coats. A few buoys marked the places where people had moored their boats during the summer and they sprinkled the edge of the chan- nel as we passed by. Now the docks and moorings were empty. We would have the creek and bay to ourselves. Black Ducks Steer Clear Further out away from the houses and the once -busy part of the creek three black ducks jumped from behind the grasses, climbed high and wide of us. They were the weary ones and they took no chance that man would get close enough to do them harm. The whitish underparts of their wings flashed in the sun as they disappeared out over the bay. We immediately noticed the bay had lost its brown -tide look. The water sparkled clear. The boat sped ahead, leaving the chilling winds behind us. We passed the point of land where sun - worshippers basked while kids played at the water's edge in summer, but now only a few seagulls rested on its white sands and only their footprints could be seen. We headed for a spot known only to my son — the place he claims he can always get clams. We passed a deserted osprey nest atop a leaning pole that re- minded me it wouldn't be long before we'd be out repairing and putting up new ones for the coming winter. Might it be Florida, some place in the Caribbean? Or perhaps they are true wanderers and are fishing in some green, enchanted tributary of the Amazon. Oh, to travel with them and tell their stories. I knew we were getting close as the motor started to slow and then stop completely. We drifted silently 'til the bow of the boat ground on a bar. A great blue heron jumped up and flapped its huge grey -blue wings, trailing its lanky legs behind. Had we disturbed his fishing or was he just resting in a shel- tered spot in the warm sun of winter? We were glad the water was open and not frozen, for if frozen it would have spelled disaster for Mr. Longlegs as he could not fish in the shallows. Old Spot Proves Good It didn't take long for Roger to get overboard and start raking. Sure enough his spot proved productive and one by one clams were being dropped into the boat. We worked here and there, having spurts of luck and then failure. My feet were the only parts of me that were cold. We worked in silence mostly but then once in a while we'd speak back and forth about how clear the water was, what a wonderful day, the joy of being out, how great the motor ran. Just talk between father and son that seemed to fit the occasion perfectly. After an hour or so we had a fair mess of clams and it was time to head back. We put the rakes in the boat, their tongs now shiny silver, showing their work marks. We got out the oars and rowed through the shallows to the channel. Once again the motor refused to start, but then with the aid of a shot of beetle juice it purred and we were off. Our trip was now into the chilling winds that came across the bay. How cold spray can be at this time of the year. I faced to the stern and could pro- tect myself pretty well, but Roger took the brunt of the spray as it licked across the bow and covered him with sparkling white droplets of icy water. A horned grebe fluttered and seemed to run along the water in front of us but before we " reached it, it dropped and dove. He knew how to get away from man. Oldsquaws burst out of the water ahead and peeled off to the side, their long tails trailing behind them. It was good to be alive and out on the bay. Back at the dock we reversed our pro- cedure: motor, oars, tanks and all loaded into the truck. Then the boat was pulled up and turned over. Back home we were setting up for a feast. There would be clams on the half - shell, steamed, baked in the shell and Barbara's clam pie. We would eat high tonight. There was work involved in getting the meal, but as we sat around the table and all felt full, we agreed we'd have to do it again.