As I was just about to leave Michigan to move back east to Maryland, Ron and I decided to take one last drive through the area. We passed Spring Valley Trout Farm and I mentioned that I had never been fishing. Ron replied that he and his mother went fishing all the time and headed the car into the lot.
Of course, I was assuming all along that Ron would join me in the fishing adventure but as we got to the counter, he only ordered one pole and one can of bait. Being a sturdy New Englander, the sight of cut up, yet squirming, worms did not do me in. So we proceeded to the pond. There were families having picnics under the pavilion to the left and a large pond to the right. It was getting cloudy and looked like we were in for rain. With great wisdom, Ron announced that rainy weather meant good fishing. What did I know. It sounded good to me. So off we went.
There were children fishing on the end closest to the picnic tables so we went to the far end. I successfully put the first worm on the end of the pole and plopped it into the water. I don’t know what magic I thought would happen but things seems pretty quiet. As I asked Ron “how do I know if I caught one,” I raised the pole and there was a fish attached. I screamed like a sissy girl flailing the pole this way and that. Ron grabbed the pole and pulled it towards the bucket they gave us. Ta da, it went it. We unhooked it and off I went to try a second time.
I had a bit more trouble with the worm but managed to get it on. Inspired, I plopped the pole in the water and again was wondering how I would know if I caught a fish. I pulled up the pole and low and behold another fish was attached. Since I wasn’t expecting it, I screamed like a sissy girl - again. Ron had a bit more trouble helping me get it to the bucket but it was success number two. I kept thinking if I were a baseball player, I’d be batting 1000.
This thought jinxed me. I put the worm-laden pole in the water for a third time but this big old fish got away. I had my eye on him. I was not leaving without him for dinner!
I struggled to put a fourth worm on the pole but determined to catch what had now become my “white whale,” I followed "Moby Dick" around until I could put the pole right in front of him. He was a big old fish and he didn’t get that way by snapping at every pole in the pond. I waiting patiently as a fine mist of rain began to fall. He came close two times. Like Jaws, the third time he nibbled at the bait. I jumped for joy bringing the pole out of the water and there he was flopping about to beat the band. We had quite a struggle to get him in the pail but success was mine. He was still flopping about wildly as we went to check out counter. No one else's fish were flopping like that. I had a live one! I was proud of my three catches. The Toles would eat well tonight.
As we finished dinner, I was amused to find myself very proud that I had caught dinner. This primal urge welled up in me and like a cave man, I shouted “um gow ah” “me catch food”.
Doreen 1. Fish 0.
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Spring Valley Trout Farm, used with permission.
Of course, I was assuming all along that Ron would join me in the fishing adventure but as we got to the counter, he only ordered one pole and one can of bait. Being a sturdy New Englander, the sight of cut up, yet squirming, worms did not do me in. So we proceeded to the pond. There were families having picnics under the pavilion to the left and a large pond to the right. It was getting cloudy and looked like we were in for rain. With great wisdom, Ron announced that rainy weather meant good fishing. What did I know. It sounded good to me. So off we went.
There were children fishing on the end closest to the picnic tables so we went to the far end. I successfully put the first worm on the end of the pole and plopped it into the water. I don’t know what magic I thought would happen but things seems pretty quiet. As I asked Ron “how do I know if I caught one,” I raised the pole and there was a fish attached. I screamed like a sissy girl flailing the pole this way and that. Ron grabbed the pole and pulled it towards the bucket they gave us. Ta da, it went it. We unhooked it and off I went to try a second time.
I had a bit more trouble with the worm but managed to get it on. Inspired, I plopped the pole in the water and again was wondering how I would know if I caught a fish. I pulled up the pole and low and behold another fish was attached. Since I wasn’t expecting it, I screamed like a sissy girl - again. Ron had a bit more trouble helping me get it to the bucket but it was success number two. I kept thinking if I were a baseball player, I’d be batting 1000.
This thought jinxed me. I put the worm-laden pole in the water for a third time but this big old fish got away. I had my eye on him. I was not leaving without him for dinner!
I struggled to put a fourth worm on the pole but determined to catch what had now become my “white whale,” I followed "Moby Dick" around until I could put the pole right in front of him. He was a big old fish and he didn’t get that way by snapping at every pole in the pond. I waiting patiently as a fine mist of rain began to fall. He came close two times. Like Jaws, the third time he nibbled at the bait. I jumped for joy bringing the pole out of the water and there he was flopping about to beat the band. We had quite a struggle to get him in the pail but success was mine. He was still flopping about wildly as we went to check out counter. No one else's fish were flopping like that. I had a live one! I was proud of my three catches. The Toles would eat well tonight.
As we finished dinner, I was amused to find myself very proud that I had caught dinner. This primal urge welled up in me and like a cave man, I shouted “um gow ah” “me catch food”.
Doreen 1. Fish 0.
Spring Valley Trout Farm, used with permission.
Sounds like you ate well, Prov. 31 huntress.
ReplyDeleteYes we did eat well.
ReplyDeleteThe other part of the story is watching Ron skin the three fish when we got home. He used my favorite blue dish towels to boot.