This evening I had the chance to head to the creek. It is spring, despite what the weather seems to say about it and that means White Bass. (Sand Bass for those with an accent).
I arrived about two hours before dark thinking this water is too much like chocolate milk to catch fish, but fish have to eat so I stayed. I managed to catch about fifteen Whites before it got dark and, I had a good time doing it.
The real fun was in my head of course, remembering the times I brought my dad there and all the fish we caught together. I also thought about the times mom fried fish and Morels for lunch or made her delicious catfish gumbo for supper.
I heard a deer snort behind me. I knew what that was because my dad taught me to recognize the sound and imitate it myself. He could call crows with his voice, you know. A beaver slapped the water in front of me and I remembered the time late at night, us fishing the strip mine pits and I heard that noise for the first time and my dad had to show me what it was… and reassure me it wouldn’t get me.
There were Ducks on the creek tonight and Geese honking around the bend. Then about dark the owls began their chorus of “Who cooks for youuuuu” and that evil laugh they make. My boys used to listen with young wide eyes to the owls when we entered the woods before daylight on a deer hunt. I guess it sounds like a Sasquatch when one is ten years old…or fifty-three.
When I walked out of the woods tonight I thanked God for my family who taught me to pray, took me fishing and went fishing with me, taught me to survive in the woods, build a fire and eat something I found on the ground. You know… the important things in life.