Shellie’s Open Letter to the Nice Fisherman

Hello folks, let’s chat…~smile~ I was kayaking down the lake minding my own business when I saw a water bottle ahead of me, bobbing up and down in the water. Seconds later it disappeared, only to pop right back up and start swimming. You heard me. It began swimming around all crazy like as it continued to sink and resurface. I realized something had a hold of it because I’m smart like that. My enquiring mind had to know what.

I drew alongside the bobbing water bottle, told myself whatever it was couldn’t be that big and picked it up. Whoa! I found a nice-sized catfish dangling from a short fishing line, hooked firmly in its bottom lip. Someone had tied the other end of the two foot line around the mouth of the bottle and twisted the top back on for good measure. Indeed, I’ve eaten my share of fried catfish, but I’ll be honest. This cat’s plight made me sad even before he commenced telling me his side of the story. Yes, catfish talk, and this one was wound up! I decided he was telling me some cruel boy had rigged him up to spend his dying fish days fighting that water bottle, which is why I sorta, kinda, well, released him— and why I’m feeling compelled to air this open apology.

Dear Mr. Fisherman, once the men in my family quit laughing, they told me I’d found a low-tech form of yo-yo fishing. Now, I’m familiar with yo-yo’s— but seriously, it never occurred to me that you were fishing with that water bottle and coming back to check it. My bad. The guys had a big time imagining you watching from somewhere nearby as I took pictures with your supper and released it, possibly even muttering under your breath. “She can’t be doing what I think she’s doing.” They assure me I’d been in no danger pulling up that bottle, at least not from the fish. But hey, look on the bright side. You’ve got yourself a really good story about the one that got away.

Hugs,
Shellie