Jerking the lawn chair out, I swat at the webs with the broom. Next, my tackle box. I take it out and pet it's handle. Oh my, should I open it now? Pandora's box, I look out at the bright blue skies and hesitate with my fingers on it's clasp. What will this do to my precisely planned day?
I clicked open the clasp, too late now. Neatly binned neon glowing worms, translucent crickets, minnows and spinners, line, lead sinkers, corks, bottle caps and faded fishing licenses, all reminders of creek/river and oceans' of days past. I close the lid quickly when I feel the urge climb in me. "Soon" I promise the clam shelled box.
Not many people are brave enough to endure fishing trips with me, Don included. He is fine as long as we have a lot of space. I have snagged on darn near everything you can imagine - trees, sunken logs, turtles, eels, myself and midgets. Yes-you heard right. I don't make this stuff up, it just happens.
I knew at an early age that my fishing life was going to be interesting. My first trip was with a friend and her grandmother when I was 9. I was on what I think was the Gippy Plantation in Moncks Corner. It was a reedy inlet off of the Cooper River across from Mepkin Abbey. Anyway..I no sooner got a worm in the water than my pole doubled. When I pulled it up. My prize? A fish head, minus the body. The remainder of the fish that stared blankly up at me was caught by a larger fish. I was scarred, but curious. The tug on the line that day, that thing beneath the deep that little ole me with some type of worm finesse almost landed, had me hooked for life.
I am excitable. Never tamed. No fisherman wants me in their boat, unless it's big. I don't have to tell fish stories. They are always big. They are as much about what happens out of the water as they are what happened on the water. Here are a couple of excursions.
The Catfish Story. One Saturday morning years ago, Don and I packed the car, kids, cooler, rods and reels and tackle boxes. We headed for the soupy yellow waters of the Yadkin River. The Yadkin is known for it's big Catfish and I had just the thing for them, a shiny brand new rod and reel. I cast in, sat for a bit and then remembered I left something in the car. While climbing the steep banks of the river a fish hit my line. I turned and tried to run back down the hill, too late. The fish had taken off into the deep, dragging my new rod and reel with it. I was speechless, Don wasn't. "You know you have to brace that rod with something." Now I am grumpy. I sat on the bank and watched the kids gathering tadpoles. One felt sorry for me and let me use their Spiderman Zebco 202 for a bit. A little later Don went to the store and left me his rod to fish with. He didn't pull out good before I got a big bite. After I set the hook the rod bowed. I pulled and pulled and couldn't believe what came up! Don's fish, which snagged on my new rod and reel and still had my fish on the end of it's line! Woo Hoo!
Exhausted when we pulled into our drive, sweaty children covered in red clay and tired parents clamored from the car, leaving fishing rods hanging out the cracked windows of the car. After showers and naps we decided to go get something to eat. I froze in my tracks when I walked out onto the steps to leave, unable to process what I was seeing. Blood curdling Tween screams brought me back, there was a cat spinning in the air two feet off the ground with a hook in his mouth! I guess he got a whiff of the remnants of bait left on the hook and jumped up for a bite. We took the stray cat, rod and all to the emergency vet. They removed the hook, gave us the rod and reel back and charged us $200. Now we have a new cat. Ugly as sin itself, we named him Gremlin. Hence, I caught my third ~Cat~ of the day.
The Midget Story. Gliding along a calm NC lake for the christening of our pontoon boat. I was in heaven! My favorite thing on the boat at the moment was the fish finder. Don explained it to me, "It beeps if fish are beneath us and shows their location, quantity and size."
After a little cruising, Don pulled the pontoon up to the dock. He jumped onto the dock and headed across the parking lot to his truck to get something. I am now the "Skipper" of the boat! Well, the fish finder went off, beeping like crazy. I sauntered over to look. OMG, it was displaying a huge frigging fish at the back of the boat. I scurry to the back of the boat, the line we had been trolling from the back of the boat is bowing.
Heart racing, I pick up the rod. I can't even budge whatever is on the other end. Then... all hell broke loose under the edge of the boat. Banging, thrashing foamy waters.... and just as quick as it started, it stopped. Like that quiet moment in a scary movie, where you think calm is restored I took a What the hell just happened? breath. Then.... the climatic moment, like a righted buoy a bald little head shot out of the water gasping for air. A midget surfaced in a small kayak! Jesus help me, I have caught a midget! Wild eyes looked up at me. I didn't see a line hooked to him, it was then I realized that he wasn't on my line, Thank God, just the kayak. The midget caught his breath as he helped my unwind and untangle the line around the front of his kayak. He told me that he was a novice kayak-er and wanted to practice rolling his kayak in shallow water, he didn't realize he had slipped under the pontoon. He floated off as Don returned to the boat. And weirdly quick, the world was normal again.
Yes, fishing is always an adventure for me. I do everything wrong. I talk, sing, drink, eat, laugh and still somehow catch fish and "other things." But the truth is..it's never really about the fish is it?
Another day soon I promise the tackle box as I put it back into the closet. I can hardly wait.
I only used the term midget for lack of clarity in sentence. The favored termed for midget is little people, which would have had to been little person, which I would have had to explain...like I am doing now.
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