My Dad’s Fish Story-Episode 3

With the first pink-like glow in the sky, you slid down the moss-slicked mud of the creek bank on the seat of your overalls.  The chill wet went straight into the bone, felt-as-tho! You moved quietly upstream, watching that your shadow never showed on the glistening water, flowing smooth and soundless toward the fall-down trees snagging clear across the creek.  The water was deep there.

Standing ankle-deep in squishy creek-bottom mud, and belly-button deep in the ice-cold water, you fitted a worm to a hook, flipped the line overhead so that it dropped the bait gently into the water, just as if it’d fell straight from fish-heaven like a special-delicious breakfast would ifn’ it could.  It dropped kind’a teasing-lazy for a breath or so and then…Hallelujah! A STRIKE! Out of the ripples of the splashed water you fetched the flopping silver trout, dripping bucketfuls of shiny water-drops, fighting the solid-set hook without nary a given-in. You tied him to you with a piece of fish line thru a gill, and the line fastened tight to a stout short stick twisted fast thru a button-hole…or some other hole.by the time your teeth were chattering and chittering so you couldn’t possibly stay in the creek another second, there was enough fish gilled to the line to make a mess of very fancy eating…at the house.

Prince would wag his tail at its happy-fastest and then, because the fishing was done an' a fella could yakity-yak, he barked to let you know how glad he was about the fish and proud as heck of you too. “But, Gosh-a’ mighty Bud.’ Ain’t we going’ to build us a fire an’ eat them fish right now?  I’m terrible hungry!

To be kontinued!