This week with Arlene and Jeff:
...Frustrated that she could do nothing for her husband, she got out his fishing gear and removed his lure before rigging the line with a float, weight and hook. With the folding shovel, she dug around near the water until she found something that she first thought was a small snake. She had almost whacked it with the shovel before deciding it was just an energetic worm. She didn’t know what it was called here, but back home, it would have been called a wiggler. All she was sure of was it looked like a worm, wiggled like crazy and was roughly six inches long.
With her little forked stick, she held it down while threading the hook through it the way her husband had taught her. That really pissed the thing off, and it was wiggling like crazy when she set the depth with the float and cast the line out about fifteen feet from the bank. She had just wedged her husband’s rod between two rocks and had picked up her own rod and reel to bait it when Phillip’s reel began to sing.
With her dip net stuck between her legs, she worked the small fish in, then slipped the net under it. Another rainbow, but he only weighed a pound or so. No matter, he went on the stringer that she had tied to a sturdy bush at the water’s edge. She rebaited her husband’s rig using a grub this time before setting her rig up with another wiggler, then put it out twenty feet or so up the shore. It took another half-hour to catch another fish, and this one was a perch probably weighing less than a pound.
Both she and her husband loved the taste of perch, and he had taught her how to skin the fish instead of having to scale it. Since her knife didn’t have a scaler on the back, she would skin the fish after filleting it, but that would be tomorrow.
After she had both fish on the stringer, she propped both rigs against a nearby bush and walked the few steps back to their campsite, where she stood looking down at her husband...
Have a goodun;
Roust