Thursday, August 2, 2007
The COHOs are Running!
No more "Blogsites" while there are "Dogfights" (These two are Humpies (Pinks)- one move up from Dog Salmon
The fish eyed my lure warily, showing no inclination to envelope it;
He flicked his tail at me contemptuously, knowing that he was in a vastly different world from mine.
In return, I showed great admiration for his adroitness at avoiding my barbeque grill, but there was no social interaction there.
He was indeed cold-bloodied, perhaps with a dash of warmth for the oncoming spawn.
But he appeared to relish this significant time of his life, when he would make tremendous preparation for his moment of bloom and doom. He was at the apex of his existence.
I looked at his majestic form, and exhibited no wariness of my own, still expecting that my vastly larger nervous system would be superior.
We were both looking for an immediate satisfaction of our physical selves- perhaps a bit less slime for myself.
But while my digestive juices were waning, the salmon's desires were at their peak.
Without a salute, he was gone- back to the dark stillness of the deep. Back to primal instincts, but not for myself- I was filled with the joy of sensing my early self.
I remembered the time of my boyhood, when the ancient bowfin or grinnel entranced me.
How he would envelope my dough-ball, slyly pulling down my bait without so much as a signal on my line.
How he would fight, when he found that the treat was attached to a small boy- who would fight back.
But his mouth was soft, as was his entire body, and if you "caught" him, you had to eat him before the bacteria beat you. I would have a fire ready on the creek bank, and savor him immediately (or else give this "low class" fish to a similar class).
But not the salmon- he was at the top of the class, and men would fight to master him. He was indeed a champion.
And he remained so, as did the erudite one- the one with superior intellect and BROKEN FISHING LINE.
Harold L. Overton