This incident, the fact that it happened, is clearly etched in my memory. I did have to rely on imagination to fill in some of the blanks. That being said - -
THE BIGGEST FISH I ALMOST CAUGHT
One day in my fourth summer I awakened as first light accompanied the balmy breeze that wafted in through the open window in my bedroom. In my underpants I very quietly got up and crept downstairs through the kitchen to the washroom at the back of the house. In the corner was a thick wooden Gulf fishing rod with a gigantic reel and large lure hanging loosely from the end of the line. The lure was larger than any fish I had caught in the bay. I grabbed the rod and slipped through the screen door that led to the backyard. I had a plan and was excited to put it into action.
With my Mom?s gardening spade I chose the perfect spot and began digging. I dug until the hole was of sufficient size, a foot across and eight inches deep or so. Around the corner I picked up a pail sitting next to the side of the house and placed it under the nearby water faucet. I turned on the water, filled the bucket, discovered that it was too heavy to carry, dumped half out, and hurried back to the hole. After emptying the bucket I picked up the rod and pitched the lure into the hole to discover that the water only covered the bottom half of the lure. Now I had a problem. If I left to go get more water the very large fish I was expecting to catch might come up through the hole, snatch the lure, and take lure, rod, and reel back down the hole to the very large lake I imagined hidden below. My Dad would not be happy about that. On the other hand, if I stayed, there might not be enough water to entice the fish to enter the hole in the first place. While I contemplated the dilemma the water in the hole soaked into the ground and disappeared. I pulled the lure out of the damp hole and laid it beside the hole careful to move it back a foot or two in case the very large fish was a jumping fish that might pop from the hole, spot the lure lying in the dirt, and grab it on the fly.
I rushed around to the side of the house with bucket in hand, filled the bucket again, dumped half out (I was a slow learner) , and struggled back to my hole where I emptied the bucket. Immediately on dumping the water I scurried back to the faucet and, this time, half filled the bucket. Back at the hole I dumped the additional water into the hole. Now it looked right. I dropped in the lure. It floated. Except for the tail, which rested against the dirt at the bottom of the hole. This was perfect. The very large fish would certainly be enticed by that tail and come up to take a look and eat that lure.
I picked up the rod and took a steady grip. I felt fortunate that the fish had waited this long before striking. Had the fish managed to get that lure at any time before this very moment it would have escaped. Now it had no chance. I was ready. My Dad would be so proud and Mom so impressed.
I can?t really remember whether or not I caught that fish. I suspect not. But I do remember having a firm belief that the fish would come and I would catch it.
I have fished a lot since then but no fishing trip has provided the excitement I felt sitting beside that hole quivering with anticipation.
THE BIGGEST FISH I ALMOST CAUGHT
One day in my fourth summer I awakened as first light accompanied the balmy breeze that wafted in through the open window in my bedroom. In my underpants I very quietly got up and crept downstairs through the kitchen to the washroom at the back of the house. In the corner was a thick wooden Gulf fishing rod with a gigantic reel and large lure hanging loosely from the end of the line. The lure was larger than any fish I had caught in the bay. I grabbed the rod and slipped through the screen door that led to the backyard. I had a plan and was excited to put it into action.
With my Mom?s gardening spade I chose the perfect spot and began digging. I dug until the hole was of sufficient size, a foot across and eight inches deep or so. Around the corner I picked up a pail sitting next to the side of the house and placed it under the nearby water faucet. I turned on the water, filled the bucket, discovered that it was too heavy to carry, dumped half out, and hurried back to the hole. After emptying the bucket I picked up the rod and pitched the lure into the hole to discover that the water only covered the bottom half of the lure. Now I had a problem. If I left to go get more water the very large fish I was expecting to catch might come up through the hole, snatch the lure, and take lure, rod, and reel back down the hole to the very large lake I imagined hidden below. My Dad would not be happy about that. On the other hand, if I stayed, there might not be enough water to entice the fish to enter the hole in the first place. While I contemplated the dilemma the water in the hole soaked into the ground and disappeared. I pulled the lure out of the damp hole and laid it beside the hole careful to move it back a foot or two in case the very large fish was a jumping fish that might pop from the hole, spot the lure lying in the dirt, and grab it on the fly.
I rushed around to the side of the house with bucket in hand, filled the bucket again, dumped half out (I was a slow learner) , and struggled back to my hole where I emptied the bucket. Immediately on dumping the water I scurried back to the faucet and, this time, half filled the bucket. Back at the hole I dumped the additional water into the hole. Now it looked right. I dropped in the lure. It floated. Except for the tail, which rested against the dirt at the bottom of the hole. This was perfect. The very large fish would certainly be enticed by that tail and come up to take a look and eat that lure.
I picked up the rod and took a steady grip. I felt fortunate that the fish had waited this long before striking. Had the fish managed to get that lure at any time before this very moment it would have escaped. Now it had no chance. I was ready. My Dad would be so proud and Mom so impressed.
I can?t really remember whether or not I caught that fish. I suspect not. But I do remember having a firm belief that the fish would come and I would catch it.
I have fished a lot since then but no fishing trip has provided the excitement I felt sitting beside that hole quivering with anticipation.
