The Catch
Grandma and Mother set up their chairs next to each other and talk about the latest news, gossip about who has a new boyfriend and girlfriend, and the day’s plans for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Boo is standing with his hands in his jeans pockets looking serious and determined. After all, he is experienced in catching fish having caught his first the prior year. He glances over to Grandpa and Pookie and asks, “Any bites?”
“Nothing yet.” Grandpa responds. Father sits next to Boo, sips his coffee, and occasionally looks at Pookie and Grandpa, hoping that one of the kids will get a bite soon. He is not sure how long Boo and Pookie will tolerate waiting for finicky fish.
They all quickly glimpse at each rod, hoping at least one will bend with the weight of a trout’s nibble. The disappointment among the fishermen is evident and the slightest twitch of a fishing rod ignites excitement. Grandpa decides to reel in his line, grunting as he gets up. He picks up the rod and slowly turns the reel to bring in the hook and bait. The hook emerges from the water looking like it has just drudged the bottom of a lettuce bin of a salad bar. “Lots of seaweed here!” Grandpa remarks, “Gonna switch to fireballs.”
“Nice fish there, Grandpa!” jokes Grandma. Grandpa ignores her and walks back to his gear.
As Grandpa tinkers with his rod, Father notices Boo’s little Batman rod twitch quickly twice in a row. “Boo, check your rod.” whispers Father, “Reel it in slowly.” Boo jumps up and excitedly grabs the rod. “That’s definitely a bite, Boo!” Mother exclaims.
He starts reeling in the line when a fish jumps in the general direction of where his hook is located. Boo smiles big and Pookie runs over to his side. The fish is definitely on the hook as it jumps and splashes while being reeled in by the little fisherman. As he turns the reel, Boo is breathing heavily, not out of exhaustion, but with anticipation. Father sees the fish a few feet away make one more desperate attempt to escape the hook with a panicked jump and splashes into the water. Boo, not expecting the fishing rod to lighten up, jerks the line out of the water and the hook buries itself in the tackle box behind him. “Damn!” Father shouts, “Almost got ‘em.” Boo and Pookie let out a disheartened sigh.
Grandpa says, “Oooph! Bummer! Let’s get a fireball on there.” Father puts his hand on Boo’s fishing line and follows it to the tackle box. “Hold the rod, Boo.” Father instructs him. He pulls the hook from the tackle box along with half of the other items in it and begins the arduous task of untangling the mess.
Grandpa finishes with his rig and casts his line into the water. He remains standing, looking at the water intently. “Fish are up. Lots of little bubbles on the surface.” he says pointing. Pookie nods, “I want a fish.” Grandpa walks over to her and her fishing pole. He hands it to her. “Let’s check your line.” Pookie holds the rod and begins turning it with Grandpa crouched over, hovering above her. They get the hook, add a fireball, and cast it back out into the lake. They both sit down and wait.
Father and Boo have Boo’s hook cleaned off and baited. Father tells Boo to cast his own line this time. Boo carefully swings the line back and then forward. Unfortunately, his forward swing is too forward and the weight, hook, and bait splash loudly a couple feet from shore. “Ooops!” Boo exclaims. “Haha! Nice!” says Father, “Give it another try.” Boo brings the hook back up, being careful not to reel the weight too far into the tip of the rod. He swings back, then forward, and gets off a nice cast. The line travels in an arch like a rainbow as little water droplets drop off into the lake. The baited hook and weight make a bluuunk sound as it hits and goes under the water. “Good job!” Father congratulates Boo, “That was a good one!” Boo smiles broadly with squinted eyes. He tightens his line with a couple of counter clockwise reels and props the rod up on a rock.
Suddenly, Grandpa seizes his fishing pole with the obvious bites making the rod bend. “Got this one!” Grandpa says enthusiastically. The kids are wide eyed watching Grandpa reel in the nice size trout as it flips and flops on the water not wanting to leave its habitat. Grandpa easily brings the fish in and holds the fish by its gaping mouth and one of its gills. He grabs his Leatherman from his belt holder and removes the hook from the fish’s mouth.
“A stinky fish, Grandma!” yells Boo. Grandma smiles and says, “It’s your and Pookie’s turn!” The kids are rejuvenated with the catch and hope is restored between them. Father hands Grandpa the rope to tie the fish down in the water. Grandpa weaves the rope through the trout’s gill and out the mouth and sticks the stake into the soft shore line allowing the fish to remain in the water but captured until it is time to return to camp. Pookie stares at it-amazed.
The fish is quite beautiful. The shimmering of its scales is enhanced by the morning sunlight and the occasional sparkle of the lake’s water. Its mouth slowly opens and closes and its eyes stare off on either side of its head in a permanent state of surprise. The silvery scales mesh effortlessly with the pink and red scales running through the middle of its greenish-gray body. A perfect pattern of random black spots decorate the slender, streamlined physique.
Entranced, Pookie begins to carefully bend over to try to touch the fish. “Pookie! Hold on!” Mother warns. Mother rises from her chair and walks over to the rope. She lifts the rope and fish from the water and holds it for Pookie. The wet fish is still lively and swings back-and-forth in the hope of escape, splashing Pookie in the face. She turns her head slightly, her eye closest to the fish closed and her other eye open, glancing sideways at the flopping creature. She reaches and cautiously feels the wet, slimy scales not sure what to make of it. She pulls her hand away and giggles. “Still want to catch one?” Mother asks. Pookie nods yes and sees Father pull up on his fishing pole, reeling in another fish. Boo begins performing a dance and shakes his hips happily.
“All right!” Grandpa exclaims, “They’re definitely biting now!” Father lands the trout though not as smoothly as Grandpa. Father pulls out the hook, loses his grip on the fish, and drops it in the dirt. The fish flops frantically on the ground while Pookie and Boo laugh hysterically watching with tears in their eyes as Father tries to pick it up. He finally gets control and ties the fish up with the other. Miraculously, the trout is still alive jerking its tail in the water trying to swim away from the shore. “Ay, que fisherman!” Mother jokes. Father shakes his head, removes his cap, and wipes the sweat from his brow. He looks at Mother with a funny face, shakes his head mockingly, and goes to work on a new rig.
Not much time passes when Grandpa nets another trout and then he has to assist Boo with his second ever catch! Boo is happily grasping the fish on his line with both hands while Grandpa pulls out the hook. Mother forces Boo to take a picture with his trophy despite his eagerness to get back to fishing. “OK, Boo. Stand right there with your fish and let’s get a picture!” Boo walks over to where he thinks Mother is pointing, head down, and obviously annoyed. He holds up the fish, but his Mother is not happy with the smile. “Boo, smile! With TEETH!” she commands as she demonstrates. Boo smiles, satisfying his Mother and restoring peace to the lake as Mother takes the picture.
“I don’t have a fish!” Pookie is now reaching the peak of frustration. She puts her head down, her little pig tails swinging downward, and crosses her arms. Before her pouting begins, Grandpa sits cross-legged in the dirt, “Come here, hita. We’ll get one.” Father brings in Pookie’s line to freshen the bait and to help distract the little girl with another cast.
Pookie strolls over to Grandpa and sits with him. Father hands over the rod to Grandpa and he casts the line into the lake. Boo and Father exchange glances, hoping that the fish continue to bite!
Some time passes, and the bites come less and less frequently. With the mid-morning sun comes the heat that drives away the trout and forces them into greater depths. At this point, Grandpa needs to stretch and Mother takes over helping Pookie monitor her fishing pole. Mother helps Pookie bring in the line with an empty hook. “Maybe they are biting down there.” Father observes.
“Can you tie another weight on there?” Mother asks. “Sure.” Father says. Father ties another small lead weight and then adds another hook slightly higher up the line than the existing one. He gives Mother some of the marshmallow bait for one hook and he adds a fireball to the other.
“Well, here goes nothing!” Mother says as she casts the line. She brings her chair over to the shore and Pookie sits with her with a serious frown.
Father and Grandpa are relaxing in the sun, talking about work and the next home project Grandma will be hankering for once camping season is over. “Ya, your mom is wanting tile downstairs and we need to get the extra bedroom painted.” “That’ll be nice” Father replies. Grandma smiles.
Boo is tired and struts over to Grandma and sits in her lap. His eyes are heavy from a long morning of fishing. Boo’s head is bobbing up and down. His eyes shoot open after every downward tilt of his head is met with an upward thrust. He is not going down without a fight! Finally, after a few minutes, Boo’s head stays down, finally surrendering to the warmth of the weather and the warmth of Grandma.
Mother’s head is starting to droop as well when she looks up with a start. “I think I feel a bite!” she tells Pookie. Pookie looks at the tip of the rod with a smile.
“Wait a sec...” Father says looking at Pookie’s rod, “Yup, you got it!”
Pookie takes the rod as Mother passes it to her. Boo wakes up startled as Grandma starts clapping for Pookie chanting, “Good job, Pookie!”
Mother and Pookie stand from their chair and start reeling the line back to shore. Boo is up now, cheering on his sister and doing his hip-shaking fish dance. A fish jumps and splashes and Pookie starts reeling faster and faster. Mother has to slow her down so she does not jerk the fish off the hook. Father walks over to them and takes over while Mother gets her camera. Father keeps his hands close to Pookie’s but allows her to get her fish. It feels like an eternity to the campers, but the fish is finally visible in the shallow water next to the shore. Pookie lifts the tip of the rod and swings the fish over, almost hitting Father with the writhing trout! “Whoa!” Father exclaims laughing. Grandpa is smiling broadly, happy that the little girl finally has her first catch.
Father takes the hook from the trout’s gaping mouth and strings the fish on its own line for pictures. He gives the strung fish to Pookie. ”My fish! I got a fish!” Pookie says excitedly. “We both caught fishes!” she tells Boo.
Mother holds up the camera and instructions are not necessary. Pookie holds the line above her head, the fish held slightly up to her chest, and with a proud, beautiful smile and a slight little lisp exclaims, “Chhhheeeeeetttthhhhhh!”
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