The Story of the Keogh
Stumbling to and fro
Walking in a stream
Some rocks like oiled bowling balls
Others loose as pins
Two hands around a tote to grope
the precious instruments within
Two hundred tags and needles too
To mark the fish that swim
Upstream downstream, to and fro
Darting past our nets
Causing us chagrin
But when we catch them
They will tell
The story of their lives
Through tiny pieces of their skin
![The Keogh River. Below the glistening water of this glide lays algal covered round rocks that make the journey up it as treacherous as it is beautiful! (Photo Credit: Luke Andersson)](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/54efec_c120c0078a4046c39340e2194da7220d~mv2_d_4032_3024_s_4_2.jpg/v1/crop/x_0,y_0,w_4032,h_3017/fill/w_585,h_437,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/54efec_c120c0078a4046c39340e2194da7220d~mv2_d_4032_3024_s_4_2.jpg)
![A fish scale (aka “tiny piece of skin”), which can be used to determine the age and growth history of the fish it came from!](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/54efec_5334bff9377e499e85477034d768fd31~mv2_d_2048_1536_s_2.jpg/v1/fill/w_175,h_128,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_auto/54efec_5334bff9377e499e85477034d768fd31~mv2_d_2048_1536_s_2.jpg)
![Chicken of the Woods. Notice how they glow bright orange! (Photo credit: Catherine Jardine)](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/54efec_baf020c6d5624576bdd9d2c536202628~mv2_d_5184_3456_s_4_2.jpg/v1/fill/w_108,h_72,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,blur_2,enc_auto/54efec_baf020c6d5624576bdd9d2c536202628~mv2_d_5184_3456_s_4_2.jpg)
Extra Keogh Critters
Sometimes the streams
Will give us extra treats
From four legs to none
A deer so close
You could hear it drink
As if your head were in the sink!
Or,
The pylon orange
Of not a bird
But a mushroom named akin
The Banks of Koeye
Walking down a path
Barely a person wide
You often wonder
Who else might pass
Who doesn’t really mind
Making that path more wide
One break of dawn we walked
Twisting with the roots
The air was damp
(As we were too)
As too the sounds by rain
I had a startle
By two bounding beasts
That turned out to be
Man’s best friend!
But regardless,
In the bushes was where I lay
The Bays of Koeye
Who knew that smolts
Liked bladder wrack
In the back of bays
I guess it’s better
Than most things
For smolts to spend their days
Hiding from Kings and Stags
Who would catch them
Like it was play
![Foreground, one of our friends who gave me quite the startle one morning by bounding past us on the bear trail. Background, a simple “tote-table” set up used for our salmon measuring station. (Photo Credit: Karl Seitz)](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/54efec_e8f7252305104c648a2ce7257d88bdc6~mv2.jpg/v1/crop/x_0,y_0,w_968,h_864/fill/w_113,h_101,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,blur_2,enc_auto/54efec_e8f7252305104c648a2ce7257d88bdc6~mv2.jpg)
![Early in the day at the library in Bamfield (still lots of smiling faces!). (Photo Credit: Emma Atkinson)](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/54efec_101d7511ccc64e21b46868202ea43445~mv2_d_2048_1536_s_2.jpg/v1/crop/x_3,y_0,w_1943,h_1536/fill/w_110,h_87,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,blur_2,enc_auto/54efec_101d7511ccc64e21b46868202ea43445~mv2_d_2048_1536_s_2.jpg)
The Coding Condition
Sometimes you’ll find yourself sitting
For hours at a time
Looping a song on repeat
To the rhythm of your code
You tell yourself,
“At least I’m in Bamfield”
The beauty of that place
never gets old!
When “Simulate to stimulate”
Becomes your mantra
You know somethings gone wrong
Or has it gone, completely right?
Maybe you’ve finally got it
Diving into code headlong!
Until your warnings are too many
To even fit without a prompt
And tears begin to brew
But laughter follows quickly after
And you know
That “12” is not for noon
Because
Sometimes you’ll find yourself sitting
For hours, until very late
Knowing that at least around
Are friends,
in the same state
The March of Koeye
Falling asleep, POP
The fire crackles and burns hot
Cradled by a cot
Falling asleep, TAP
Tap, tap, scurry goes the mouse
Running in our house
Falling asleep, SNAP
The steps of the mouse fall flat
Food is safe tonight
Morning, waking up
My face cold and body hot
Bundled in a bag
Morning, waking up
Wood stove is creaking open
Karl cracking kindling
Morning, woken up
Hot tea brewing in my cup
Toasting through my mug
Quickly, on the march
Mist on the stream is rising
Crisp green horizons
Quickly, on the march
Making our way on the path
Misty breaths, I gasp
Slowing, on the march
Sounds from the trap get louder
Groaning in water
Sitting at the trap
Scooping salmon by hundreds
Silver, orange, and blues
Sitting by the bin
Hands slowly getting colder
Weigh, measure, tag, repeat
Sitting back at camp
Breakfast for us a frying
Day just beginning
![Karl Seitz getting ready to pull in the rotary screw trap we use to capture juvenile salmon. The rotation of the aluminum screw echoes strange noises along the banks of the Koeye. (Photo Credit: Michael Arbeider)](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/54efec_afeab1838a25424a8f9492f3d3267322~mv2_d_5312_2988_s_4_2.jpg/v1/fill/w_108,h_61,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,blur_2,enc_auto/54efec_afeab1838a25424a8f9492f3d3267322~mv2_d_5312_2988_s_4_2.jpg)
![Back at our basecamp. The view from our porch on a nice day but chilly day, warm mug at the ready. (Photo Credit: Michael Arbeider)](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/54efec_86ff9e941bee4edbad9d84228374a54e~mv2_d_5312_2988_s_4_2.jpg/v1/fill/w_108,h_61,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,blur_2,enc_auto/54efec_86ff9e941bee4edbad9d84228374a54e~mv2_d_5312_2988_s_4_2.jpg)