Mother Nature is an all-prevailing force. We exist at her fancy. In her mercy crops are grown, the earth cleaves together, the sun gives life. In her anger and fury, volcanic eruptions, tornadoes, hurricanes, floods, blizzards, frosts or hail cower man and all his creations into insignificance.

The life surrounding us — plant, animal, bird, insect and fish is incredibly varied and I have no doubt there is life on Earth still yet to be discovered, especially in the vast oceans and its icy depths. From frigid, bitter cold to sweltering heat and jungle, each environment’s own specific species exist and flourish. For myself, to even imagine that life somehow “just happened,” and all this bewildering variety evolved, is ludicrous.

But, fortunately, the world is at peace with itself, mankind excluded.

If one spends time outdoors, you often see and experience things that enchant and delight. Scott Neely and I spent last week in Maine fishing and throughout the week events took place both thought provoking and fascinating in so many different ways.

The trip began with an omen. Scott, his daughter and son-in-law all set their alarms so Jenna could drop Scott off at my house by 4:30 a.m. When Scott didn’t show I called. He was still in bed!

All three phone alarms failed to go off. Impossible! We both felt God had a hand in this; by leaving later we avoided the awaiting accident, danger or death that had lurked ahead. Scott arrived and our trip progressed smoothly and safely.

Monday, on my very first cast I caught a nice bass. Scott shook his head, cast himself and hooked another! Did this really just happen? Both of us catching bass on the first cast of the trip? Never before in my lifetime!

At lunchtime Scott caught a massive 14-inch crappie, his largest ever, off the dock. While battling a second, we were amazed to see a large snapping turtle swim quickly out from underneath the dock and attack the crappie, darting left and right, following the flopping fish with an agility I never thought snappers possessed, his huge head striking out like a snake at the fish. Then a more than 20-inch bass darted up curiously as well. Amazing.

Tuesday morning found us fishing in a channel under a low, leaden sky. Two loons appeared and began circling each other aggressively, diving under water and stabbing at each with their long, dangerous beaks. Then one fled, the other chasing, both wing rowing. Loons wing row by rapidly using both wings like oars to propel themselves across the water at a surprising speed. They zig, zagged, circled and finally headed straight up the lake, never slowing until vanishing from sight.

A territorial dispute, I later read, which could result in the death of one of the birds.

Wednesday we motored far up the lake to the Rapala Graveyard, a bay we’ve lost four Rapalas in over the years to large pickerel or pike. Naturally, I cast my Rapala into a tree but was able to pull the limb down and save my lure. Whew, almost a fifth lost F-11.

Then, a female crested merganser with two little fluff-ball chicks swam by us hurriedly about 3 feet from the shore. Thirty yards away she spun and began quacking loudly, staring intently at the bank. The chicks scrambled onto her back just as an oversized raccoon appeared. The merganser paralleled the raccoon along the shoreline, quacking constantly, warning one and all of the danger. Fascinating.

That afternoon Scott bought himself a new spinnerbait. After carefully perusing those available he chose a double willow blade, gold model with a white skirt. Out to the channel. Scott snapped on his new lure, dropped it into the water and pulled it back and forth to observe its action. A 12-inch crappie shot up and grabbed the spinnerbait. A fish and he hadn’t even cast yet. Now that’s a special lure!

Confirmation followed as Scott caught three beautiful pickerel on a single drift. I nick-named him the Pickerel Whisperer.

Friday afternoon we were fishing the docks for crappies. Since we’d lost several 13- to 15-inch crappies foolishly attempting to lift the heavy, wildly flopping papermouths onto the dock, the net lay at my feet. Without warning a big snapping turtle swam quickly out of the shadows and grabbed my Trout Magnet. What? Incredible!

Despite my shock, I kept the line tight, reached down, grabbed the net and scooped the turtle up. However, she was too heavy to lift one-handed. Scott dashed up, seized the handle and hefted the furious turtle up onto the dock, her reptile eyes blazing with anger, the sharp jaws open and ready to snap.

In disbelief, we carried her to shore where a family with two young boys were sitting and showed them the prehistoric beast, which obligingly snapped several sticks in half with lightning strikes of head, neck and jaws. The turtle stunk to high heaven and was soon released.

Saturday, rounding an island, Scott spotted a huge bald eagle sitting in a tall white pine. The eagle had caught a fish and was tearing strips off the carcass and eating them. Its majesty, size and piercing, yellow eyes were awe inspiring.