I held the rainbow trout tightly with both hands. It was slippery and wet, but I had caught it myself and I was not about to let it get away. I had seen fish wiggle out of hands before and plop back into the stream and swim away. This one was not going to get away. I moved away from the stream in case it slipped out of my hands and carefully worked on pulling the hook out of its mouth where it had snagged the fish.
I had sat for an hour on the bank of the Asay river quietly working my fishing line back and forth in the deep pool of water in the bend of the river waiting for the fish to bite just like Grandpa Brooksby had shown me. The first nibble of the fish, I had felt some minutes before and the slight tug on the line told me that a fish was there and patience might just get him to bite hard enough to hook him. The nibble came again harder, but still I waited. Finally the line jerked hard and began to move out into the stream. I had him and it felt like a big one.
Slowly, I began to reel the line in careful to make sure he did not escape and after what seemed like forever, I could see the fish. He was tiring and as I brought him close to the bank of the stream I could see that I had him. I lifted him out of the stream and pulled him out over the bank onto the grassy bank where he lay for a few seconds flopping on the ground. Laying down the willow fishing poll, I reached for the fish and grabbed him tightly. I held him with both hands so he would not get away while I removed the hook.
I was so excited that when I had the hook removed, I ran to where Grandma and mother were sitting to holding him high to show off my success and to put the 10 inch long rainbow trout fish in a container. They were so proud of me and I felt like I had accomplishment a great task. The feel of the fish nibbling the hook and taking the bait was an excitement that I never forgot.
No comments:
Post a Comment