A good day's catch and a curious noise

Standing on top of the small hill, Timmy over looked the steadily moving water of the river he had fished every season since he could remember. To his left was fenced in swamp; he never understood why someone would fence in a swamp near a river. In front of him, down the hill was a small red bridge that spanned the short distance across the river. From that bridge was a worn dirt path that led into thick woods. Those woods extended several feet from the water’s edge along the path of the river. Timmy would be taking that path to his favorite fishing spot.

Before crossing the bridge, Timmy stopped, as he always did, and squatted down beside the river to take a drink of its cool, clear, reddish water. Cupping his hands together, just like his dad taught him, Timmy scooped up some cold water, and sipped from it as he watched some spider bugs dance across the top of the flowing stream. Once Timmy tried to catch a couple of them, but failed, and his failure ended him a long walk home in wet clothes.

Stopping at the top of the bridge, Timmy leaned over the rail, and looked at his reflection in the moving water. There were some minos swimming around in the shadow of the red bridge, along with a couple small Brook trout. This was a perfect day for fishing. Tim coughed once, then tried to call up some spit, hacking several times, then finally, swishing the flem around preparing for its launch into the water. It was a good spit, and went pretty far down the stream, but Timmy had spit better ones, and he was sure he would have better ones still to come.

Crossing the bridge, and walking along the tree line, trying to avoid the real muddy parts of the bank; his mom hated muddy boots and pant legs. In a matter of minutes Timmy was sitting on a familiar bank, pulling his fisherman’s tie tight to a hook. No matter how sunny it was, it was always darker here, which was perfect for fishing. Snaking a helpless worm along the length of his sharp hook, Timmy readied himself for his first cast.

Cast…splash! Timmy reeled in slowly, and set the line, holding it loosely under his pointer finger so he could feel the slightest hit by a hungry Brookie, Brown, or Rainbow.

Tim waited. Just as he was about to reel in for another cast, the line on his finger twitched! Fighting the initial desire to jerk his rod and set the hook, Timmy slowly let out more line…let him take it and enjoy it for a moment, Timmy thought. Mentally he pickered this big trout rolling its eyes in enjoyment as it savored the worm in its mouth. Jerk! Timmy set the hook, and began to fight with the fish! Before long, Timmy had landed a good size Brown Trout.

Pulling the hook from the fish’s mouth wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t that hard either. Timmy held the fish up to his face and asked him what he asked every fish (just like his dad did), “Do you want to go back?” No fish had ever said it did. Timmy snapped it’s head back, and then cleaned the fish, letting its innards float down the stream for some lucky raccoon to pick up as a snack. Then he put the fish in his creel, and went about casting for the next lunker.

After several more keepers had been caught, began to gather his things, knowing he was going to need some extra time to get home and fry them up for supper tonight. A snap of a branch caught Timmy’s attention. Timmy was used to hearing lots of noises while fishing, but for some reason this one caused him to pay attention. There it was again. Now, Timmy wasn’t scared, but he certainly became curious. Rumors of bear being in the area were highly debated by the men down at the local restaurant, and Timmy hoped they were true. Maybe he would see one.
He set off to find out.

More to Come

For those of you who check on this and have perhaps lost faith that there would be more to come...well, don't loose the faith brutha! I plan on posting more segments of Timmy's adventure on a weekly to bi-weekly basis (I want to get it done!). Check back in September for the next installment.

Timmy Meets An Old Man On The Way

While walking down the familiar sidewalks on his way to his favorite fishing spot Timmy didn’t notice the various cars passing by. He barely even noticed the kids playing in the playground. Evidently they didn’t know a good fishing day when they saw one! He was deep in his thoughts now about the big browns and beautiful rainbows he was going to catch today; his dad would be so proud! In fact he was so deep in his thoughts the old man that he passed had to yell at him, twice.

“Boy…BOY!” Timmy heard faintly then more loudly. Realizing someone was trying to talk to him, Timmy turned quickly around to notice an old man sitting on the cement porch steps of an old home.

“Yes sir,” Timmy replied. Timmy had always been taught to be respectful to his elders. He even watched his daddy do the same to the older men in the church they attended.

“Where you goin today, son?” The old man asked, smiling.

“Fishin, sir.”

“Where at?”

“At me and my dad’s favorite spot, sir.” Timmy didn’t know if he would tell him where that was at. Respecting elders was one thing, but giving up one’s favorite fishing spot was another!

“Going to bring home dinner, eh boy? Where’s that spot at, son? Is it the one down the bend behind the hospital?” The old man asked with a wink and a smile.

Figuring he could trust the old man, Timmy answered, “Yes sir, and yes that’s the spot, sir.” Maybe he had been there before?

“That’s a good one, that there spot is, son. Why I remember fishing there one time and the strangest thing happened to me,” the old man said as he looked up slightly, as if he could see his memories in the gray sky above him.

“Wha..what happened,” Timmy asked. He was a curious boy, as most are at his age.

“Well, see son, I was fishin, and then I heard this noise…like a stick broke or something, so I decided I best check it out. You don’t want coons comin down and stealin your fish, ya know.”

Timmy nodded his head and put his hand on his creel, just to make sure he brought it. No raccoon could get his thieving paws in there.

“Anyways,” the man continued, “as I walked through the woods, careful to remember my way back to the river, I didn’t find any critters, sos I decided to head back and keep a fishin. Just then,” he paused to look deep into Timmy’s eyes, “I wasn’t in the same woods any more!”

Timmy tried to hide his smile; be respectful, remember, he reminded himself.

The old man chuckled, and with a gleam in his eye that Timmy could only describe as excitement, and then said, “Well, you best be on your way, son. Go bring home some dinner for your parents. And, be careful now, ya hear?”

“Yes sir, I will, sir,” Timmy said, smiling. He began to finish the last leg of his journey to his fishing spot. That strange story from that old man fading in his mind.

A Good Day For Fishing

The Adventures of Timmy are told here in print form as I have been telling them to my son for the past month or so before his bed time. He is four and a half, and loves them. I will try to retell them as I told him, and I will probably add more detail since most of us are older than four...

Timmy woke up that morning to a sort of over cast day. A good day for fishing, he thought. Of course, every day was a good day for fishing in Timmy’s mind. As Timmy got dressed, he took a look outside his bedroom window to see if his dad’s car was in the driveway. It wasn’t. That meant that Timmy might not be fishing today. He was sad.

Timmy’s mom was busy in the kitchen and didn’t even hear Timmy walking behind her. Half startled she said, “Good morning, son…my you almost scared me!” She reached over and hugged him, and noticed the long look on his face. “What’s the matter, Timmy?” she asked, lovingly.

“Nothin,” Timmy replied, glumly.

Not buying his game, Timmy’s mom kept talking, “Nice day for fishing today, eh, Timmy?”

“Yeah…but, I wont be doin no fishing today, mom.” Timmy slumped down at the dinning room table, and got ready to eat what would be a sad breakfast.

“I wont be doing any fishing today,” she corrected. There was a pause from Timmy. This wasn’t like Timmy; he was usually talkative, but she knew he really wanted to go fishing today, but thought he couldn’t because his dad was gone, and he had never been allowed to fish alone before. That is, until today. See, Timmy didn’t know that before his dad left today he had discussed things over with Timmy’s mom and they decided he was now old enough to go to their fishing spot by himself. So, she egged him on. “Oh, why not, Timmy?”

Timmy’s mom began to pour him his usual breakfast of cereal and milk. It was his dad’s usual, too. She had to turn her back to him as she did it so as to hide her smile; she didn’t want to spoil the rouse. Some mom’s love to have fun with their boys.

“Mom, you know why. Dad’s gone. I can’t go fishin alone; I’m not old enough, remember?”

“Well, that changes today, Timmy!” She couldn’t hold the secret in any longer.

“Wha…wait a minute! You mean…I can go fishin by myself, mom?” Timmy asked, leaping out of his chair.

“Yes, that is what I mean, son. Your father and I decided this morning that you were old enough to go by yourself, if you fish in your usual spot. I think your dad knew this would be a good day to bring us home some trout for dinner,” she said with a smile.

“Oh boy,” exclaimed Timmy! He rushed over and hugged his mom as hard as he could. He knew she loved “big hugs” like this, and he wanted to hug her “big” right now for letting him go alone!

Timmy quickly ate his breakfast, in spite of his mother’s telling him to slow down. Then he rushed into the garage and gathered up all his fishing gear. As he ran out of the garage, tackle and creel hanging everywhere, his mother told him to be home before his father did and they could clean his fish and fry them up for dinner. She then kissed him on the cheek and told him to be careful. He told her he would. After all, what could happen to him going fishing?