Go Fish
When I was a child, my Uncle Phil would take my cousins and my siblings fishing in his home state of Arkansas. The man had the patience of a saint. He imparted to me a love of fishing that I still have today. There’s something meditative about fishing. It may be the only pastime where I’ll willingly check out of work and obligations to just…sit there and stare at a piece of plastic bobbing around, waiting to signal a bite. There’s also something addictive about fishing, a bit like playing a slot machine. “Just one more cast, maybe I’ll hook one this time.” Luckily, it’s a lot cheaper than Vegas.
We stocked the pond about three weeks ago. Over Spring Break, it was time to test the waters. How big were the fish? Were they hungry? Would they give a good fight? Or, had the resident osprey dined on fresh trout repeatedly, leaving us with nothing?
The trout are still hungry several weeks later. You can see one jump every few minutes, especially in the evening when the bugs are hitting the water at sunset. They seem to be hungriest in the morning. This proved true again yesterday, when, after inviting neighbors to dinner, I realized I didn’t have enough food to serve. “I’m going to go catch us dinner,” I said to Lee, with a bit of a swagger that could have been completely unwarranted. Luckily, it wasn’t. Before my coffee got cold, I had two nice-sized trout in my bucket and a few hours later, I’d cleaned them and made a pretty awesome meal.