Shaker Park, Pittsburgh

August 28 2007, Horseshoe Lake in Shaker Park, Pittsburgh

The historical marker says that this lake was created in 1852 when the Shakers built a dam across Doan Brook to create a woolen mill. Today this five-acre horseshoe-shaped lake and its park are surrounded by zillion-dollar homes – the types of homes with about 30 windows facing the street, with serpentine drives, and with lawns and grounds so well manicured that they look effortless. Their residents stroll occasionally by me as I fish here. I’m the only angler.
“Catching any amur?” a 60-ish man asks. “Amur?” I respond. “Yes, they stocked them in here – should be big enough now,” he explains, and then walks on. Amur indeed. Obviously not an angler.
“Are you fishing for trout?” a 40-something woman and her companion ask. “No, bass,” I respond. Trout in this shallow, warm-water, public park pond? Other non-anglers.
This is a beautiful pond – quite fishy looking – but I see no evidence that others fish here: no discarded fishing line, no lure packages, no worm containers. The pond is sprinkled with shoreline weeds, lily pads, shade trees, and duckweed. Its water is dark, tannic. I tie on a Senko and toss it along this dam over which the main pathway traverses. Strollers continue walking by.
The dam is located on the bend of the horseshoe. The horseshoe’s arms stretch left and right in the distance with apparently no shoreline paths providing access. A kingfisher chatters and dives and flaps across the left arm of the horseshoe. Ten minutes later a different kingfisher does the same on the right arm. Then the left-arm kingfisher again.
My Senko swims into bassy water, but no bites. I switch to a Rat-L-Trap and throw it alongside far pads, through patches of floating duckweed, and out into the calm center of this pond. Nothing.
You can’t help but notice how well-appointed these strollers are. This park’s clientele wears casually smart clothing – plenty of khaki and plenty of perfectly relaxed and blended hair styles. It’s an hour before sunset, and this is an after-work or pre-dinner communion with nature.
I switch to a Pop-R then a buzzfrog, but no bass respond to these topwater offerings. Then I go to the certain strike-getter: a four-inch finesse worm. It does indeed get bitten on the first cast, but only gentle pecks from what are presumably tiny bluegill. No bass bites.
The dam – now carpeted with grass and wildflowers and this path from which I fish – is constructed of granite blocks, and from between some of their cracks grow eager greenery. The Shakers built it to last, and today’s pond is a postcard. A Great Blue Heron – the only one I see here – squawks and flaps lazily across the pond and alights in the top of a 60-foot tree. Far across the pond I now see a blue- and white-shirted couple stand and fold their blanket and stroll into the woods.