We discussed going fishing, in the shade, on my porch, where just out from the eve, it was scorching hot, as it was only perspiring hotness, just a wee bit less, in the under the sunshade.
I asked if I should check the minnow traps. He said, if you like, like he could care less, I found that odd.
Normally he’s five steps ahead me to do the lifts.
I came back, the traps were a wiggling minnow fest. I was kinda pumped up and told him we have quite a nice haul of bait. So you wanna get to it? He shifts in his lawn chair, says, well let’s just think about this a minute. He don’t say a word, he’s just staring out into the haze and humidity, oh, I wanna get going, I offered, You wanna try Bassett?
Not today, we’d be so sunburned out there. Well how about Wolf, back in the far bay by the stumps? He says the narrows grew shut already this year with wild rice, gotta be the heat, the rice must love it, but it’s choked off.
Ok, how about we wade some streams for brookies? He picks up his lemonade, takes a sip, sets the glass down and says, I think today I’ll just talk about fishing, would that be okay with you? Sure whatever you like. I went and emptied the minnows back into the pond. At least they seemed happy.
--The trout whisperer
