Day 9: the maneating blackbird of Davenport, Iowa

Hello outside world. Nick here with today's post. After waking up in Fulton, Illinois in a perfect hammock triangle (a bucket list phenomenon of mine long-coveted and rarely seen) Bennett Clement and I met up with Piers on the boat. He'd just come back with Terry (of Livin the Dream fame) who'd offered us a ride to the gas station and was kind enough to donate a jerrycan for our gasoline purposes, a jerrycan we renamed Terrycan in Terry's honor. If you're just joining us and don't know who Terry is, amend that! And check out our last post. 

After a hearty handshake and well wishes from Terry we embarked from Fulton with our hearts and gas tanks full. I, Nick, took the captain's position and finally got to drive the boat, even standing up sometimes while motoring at a cool 10 knots per hour, pointing at things dramatically and looking at stuff through my binoculars, modus operandi of all the coolest boat captains I've seen on the Tube (I'm lookin at you, Hunter Quint). After gatoring down miss Mississippi for a while we turned off the main aquatic causeway in favor of a shortcut down an offshoot river called a slough that Terry recommended. This slough we fondly christened Terry's Hypotenuse for the hypotenusal short cut it allowed us. Thanks again, Terry! 

Our next stop was the great town of Davenport, Iowa where we lunched in a gazebo on the water, all the while terrorized by a territorial red-winged blackbird that would menacingly hover above anyone who dared step near his bushy homestead. Piers was unlucky enough to be attacked by the creature. His account of the attack is as follows:

"I was walking back towards you guys in the gazebo feeling proud of myself for having found a bathroom when I felt a stinging pain on the back of my head. I looked up and saw two fishermen laughing at me. I turned around and saw a red-winged blackbird flapping around in the air above me. The fishermen told me the bird had been attacking everyone who walked past because its children were in a nest in the bush."

So it goes.

After their laughing fits subsided the fishermen gave Clement some kindly advice on how to catch fish with the rod that he'd picked up in Bellevue, hoping to sustain our stomachs once our Clif bars and peanut butter ran out. Thanks, kindly fishermen! 

Next up on our notables of the day was the hour we waited for Lock 16 to open her gates. In the intervening interlude we practiced our fishing (to no avail) and anchored for the first time! True men of the river were we in that hour, casting hooks off the boat and spitting yarns, as one does on boats. 

Speaking of men of the river, it may please you to know each of us has adopted a river name. Clement is now Crimper. I, Nick, am Grommeter. Bennett is River Hair and Piers has yet to earn a name. If you have any suggestions, comment on this post!

After passing through Lock 16 we cozied up to a slip in a marina in Muscatine, Iowa, Pearl of the Mississippi and bedded down for the night. Want to know why Muscatine, Iowa is the Pearl of the Mississippi? Of course you do! Stay tuned for that and more in tomorrow's post.