Tags
big brown, big rock, Brainarsville, Chateaugay, fishing, mountain stream, Owls Head, Salmon Hole, trout
He always fishes the big rock.
Well – – – not really always,
unless you only count,
the last two days of May,
contiguous with,
the first two days of June.
And for that long weekend,
of glorious fishing,
he drives five hours,
rents a cabin,
with a 1934 style kitchen,
a bed that was used up,
two decades ago,
and shares it with,
two resident mice,
and costs two days wages.
But then again,
how else would he ever,
be able to fish,
the big rock?
And when he gets,
just below the big rock,
he wades ever so gently,
so as not to disturb,
even the smallest,
pebble.
Because he knows,
there is a big brown,
hiding under the big rock.
And year after year,
he relinquishes,
two days pay,
four nights of sleeplessness,
breaks eggs in a cast iron pan,
over a propane stove,
with clogged orifices,
and then rushes out,
to fish the big rock.
And year after year,
he never fools,
the big brown,
it never bites,
in fact,
no fish ever bites,
under the big rock.
So that is why he,
always fishes the big rock.
If nothing bites,
that means there are,
no minnows or chubs,
under the big rock.
And the lack of tiny fish,
only means one thing,
there is a big brown,
hiding under the big rock,
who is eating all those,
tiny little ones,
(the big brown bully)!
And one of these days,
the big brown,
will run out,
of little ones,
to nibble on,
and he will be fooled,
by a nice big fat,
nightwalker.
But the man,
always returns,
because there are,
other big rocks,
not like that one,
but big enough,
to hide a medium brown,
or possibly,
another big brown.
So for another two,
or three years,
he watches another,
big rock,
and studies it,
until he convinces himself,
that there is a big brown,
under it – – – – or – – – -,
until another big brown,
changes his resting place,
and makes another abode,
under that particular,
big rock.
© Copy written for what I will never know.
waldotomosky 
Sounds like a great time to me, going out into the woods for that challenge. This sounds like quite an epic duel between fish and fisherman, similar to Moby Dick. This is really great writing.
Thank you very much David. It is a true story and I can’t wait for that big brown to make a fool out of me next year.
That’s the kind of trips I like, just getting out in the wild by myself. If you ever catch him, you’ll have to find another big rock, I guess.
I fought a tarpon for two hours but he dashed under pier and snapped line on piling. He weighed 87 5/8 pounds. Whaddya mean how do I know ? I caught a glimpse, tarpon have scales on their backs. Thanks visit my blog.
Your fish stories are much better than I could ever dream up. Congratulations on a lie even better than Obama’s.
Now that made me laugh. I understand George Washington often snuck away when he could, barefoot with a line in hand.