Fishermen of the Creek

Fishermen of the Creek

Wind blew. It coursed through the grass. It sang a song of gusts and screamed. Wind blew, and was felt. The lily turned with the wind. The flower faced at a young child who was staring at it, with his back against the clouds.

“Hey Danny, lookit. This flower’s lookin at me.” The boy looked up to a taller boy who had been walking along beside him.

“Tosh!” the older boy said, “That ain’t nuthin but the wind. What’d I tell you ‘bout talkin stupid to me,” and he kept on walking.

“Sorry.” Mickey muttered and looked downcast at the pretty flower. Only mumma understood; she called it his “inner poet.” Still looking at the lily he called out to his older brother further along the beaten path, “Hey Danny, d’you think mumma would like us to bring it to her?”

“Boy, were goin’ fishin’, not lookin for pretties. Ain’t your pockets full, anyhow?”

Mickey thought of the dozens rocks and pieces of wood he’d already collected in the pockets of his blue jean overalls. Disappointed, he added as he left the flower. “prob’ly’d get smashed anyhow.” He slung his pack over his shoulder and hurried to catch up with his brother who was nearing the brook. “Wait up.”

From the pack Danny was carrying he fetched out a wad sting with a hook and a cork tangled in it. He also fetched out a bag filled with dirt. Mickey watched in fascination as he selected a huge black night crawler from the dirt and stuck him onto the hook many times. Mickey wondered what it was like being stabbed over and over again. Danny cast the string into the water and waded out to a rock to sit down on.

Mickey thought the current felt funny against his legs as he took his place beside Danny. The make-shift bobber rippled against the current, but overall it stayed still. Water flowed around and under it, but the movement betrayed no signs of fish.
“Wanna rhyme?”

“Danny looked at him with impatient eyes, “What for?”

Mickey answered without much hesitation, “To pass the time.”

Danny didn’t appreciate the rhyme overmuch, “Naw, why don’t you practice your lessons to pass the time. Say something intelligent-like.”

Mickey was thoughtful, “I’ll memorize some history then.”

Danny lay down on the sun-baked rock as Mickey grilled himself against facts he already knew about European history. He was just covering the fires of London when, without warning, the cork plunged into the water. Danny gripped the string tightly in his hands, but there was a fighter on the line. “Dan!” Mick was shouting and jumping up and down on the rock giving his advice, “Keep on ‘im! Hold fast and haul ‘er in!” Mickey picked up the slack string behind Dannyand pulled with all his might, but he didn’t have any effect.

Danny saw a huge splash in the water ten feet from their rock. This fish was huge! And it was coming closer with Danny’s steady draw on the line. It was a catfish (at least four pounds!) that was pulled out of the water by Danny. He carried the flopping fish and set it down on the shore far enough that it couldn’t flop back in the stream.

“Aw, fetch me a new hook, will ya? This one’s bent.” Danny said when he finished with the fish. “Hurry up, the fish’r callin’.”

Mickey carefully opened his pack, and searched for the small paper bag containing all the hooks they’d just bought at the general store. He moved rocks and branches and a few biscuits (mom had sent them just in case her two boys happened to become hungry) until he found it. He fetched a new gleaming silver hook and passed it almost reverently to his brother (they represented his saving for the past month).

Danny tossed the old coppery brown one away and picked the hook, tying a puzzling knot with the string onto it. Another worm was cleanly stabbed on it and the cork pulled a little higher, then it was plunked again in the cold stream water. They both settled into their old spots on the rock. Danny was just enjoying the silence when Micky started to review some more history.

“The Plague…,” Mick was feeling a little ornery and grinned evilly. “in the time of the plague people got infected, an’ when they got infected they got rejected so that the people would be better protected. Many people died, includin’ those who might’n have gotten elected. Those who got elected…”

“Gaw!” Danny screamed. “Ain’t you got someone else to annoy with your incessant rhymin’?” Danny moved to another rock too deep in for Mickey to follow. Mickey thought in silence on his rock as the sun passed directly over his head and passed them. Danny was sullen; he didn’t speak but to ask for a biscuit or ask for a new hook.

It was near dusk when Danny woke Mickey up. “Ought to be gettin’ home now, Mom’s expectin’ us home fer supper.” Mickey marveled at the pile if fish that was gathered on the shore for them to carry home. Mickey carried his share of the load and Danny carried the rest and the packs over his shoulder (a load a good deal more heavy than Mickey’s). Mickey was relieved to see the fire coming from the kitchen. Mumma came out of the house as they came down. “Danny, your pa wants you at the northwest end of the field. He says the dead tree finally fell and he’s going to need your help moving it.”

Danny laid down the fish and packs, “Alright ma, I’m a goin’.” He jogged down a path nearly opposite the one he came in on.

“So how many beautiful things did you find on your trip?” the woman turned to Mickey, who grinned widely as he emptied his pockets. “I had t’ leave lotsa stuff behind too.” Mickey stated with pride as he showed his mother every object he had picked up.

“Can we go agin tomorrow?” he asked.

“You’ve got your big history exam tomorrow; you can’t very well just disappear for fishing.”

“Oh yeah,” Mickey said, “but I practiced for it real good today.” He sat down at the table as his mother prepared dinner.

She went to work on the chicken frying on the stove, steadily and without distraction. Mickey admired how she did so much on the little stove without getting herself burned.

“Your first fishing trip, what did you like most?”

Mick thought a long while before he said simply, “My brother. He was so strong in handling all those fish, and he knew everything about it.”

“He was the best part of the fishing for you? He didn’t try to ignore you or anything?”

He wondered how mumma always seemed to know. “Well, that doesn’t matter to me. He’s the best brother in the world.”

Danny came in the house just then with his pa and sat down at his spot at the table. He had been waiting for pa at the door. Pretty soon supper was served (fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy). There was sort of a shine coming from Danny’s eyes as they ate.