Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Father (as in paternal parent, not God) (04/10/08)
-
TITLE: Chubs and Pistols | Previous Challenge Entry
By
04/12/08 -
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
I had never had the chance to fly fish before, so dad patiently gave me the full course of how to cast and when to reel in. The first couple of casts he stood behind me and guided my hands in what I needed to do. Then he let me go on my own. Soon I could cast well enough to get out into the middle of the river. Okay, the river wasn’t more than thirty to forty feet wide, but I was happy it hit the water at all.
Next he made me put the worm on myself. Wonderful. Make the girl play with the icky worm. Digging them up had been fine, since I didn’t have to touch them. I didn’t have issues dissecting one in science class, but I had gloves on for that. Now I picked up a very live worm that wiggled in my fingers. I could feel slime and grit at the same time due to the dirt still stuck to its body. How did dad so effortlessly impale the worm on the hook and even seem to tie it into a knot?
My contemplation allowed for the worm’s escape, but I got him back. I impaled him and tried my dad’s technique of ‘knotting’ it in place. I failed and dad couldn’t help chuckling as he reached out for the hook and finished the job. I never did get the worm hooking down that day, but my casting improved.
I had my first bite. Again, dad came to help guide me in what I needed to do to reel in my fine catch. It pulled strongly against the line as if it had some size to it. It came into view and probably wouldn’t have reached nine inches on a ruler if it stretched; so much for the big fish story.
The fish finally hung before me and dad told me to take it off the hook because it was only a chub. It sure looked like its name, fat and round. Of course, this meant touching the fish. The slime of this fish made the worm a treat to handle. Some fish even secrete a fluid to protect them when out of water and handled. I bet this chub had that ability. He probably felt as relieved to return to the cool waters as I felt about seeing him gone from my hands. I washed my hands in the river and then wiped them on my jeans.
Dad simply laughed at this whole process. Fine, laugh it up. I’d show him a thing or two by catching another fish.
I did catch another chub and my dad caught a couple, as well. Those trout had definitely gone into cooler recesses. I didn’t doubt some were on the other side of the river where the bank raised higher and shady trees over hung the water. I imagined them laughing at us and the poor chubs.
Without any success and most of the worms gone, we emptied the dirt from the small coffee can we had brought them in. Dad set it on a pile of rocks along the side of the field and pulled his pistol out. I would get a two for one training deal out of this afternoon, a rare day indeed.
He showed me how it worked. I held it in my right hand. The left hand went to my wrist for support to steady my aim and to restrain my arm due to the kickback. I had no idea how much support it would take until I fired. It swung up as it went off and my bullet went over the rock pile and into the river.
“Let’s go see if you got a trout.” Dad laughed more than he had at all my fishing antics.
I’ll never forget my first day of fishing and pistol shooting due to this one line.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.