One thing I love to do, from my days as a child and well into my adulthood, in fact, to this very point in time, is fish.
In my younger days, we lived in a rural area within a mile of the Chickahominy River. The walk was nothing compared to the thrill of reeling in a Pike. At least that’s what we called this wolf of the waterways, which is related to a Pike, though Chain Pickerel is its proper name. According to Discoverboating.com, the Chain Pickerel can reach lengths of three feet and weigh seven pounds, the world record being nine pounds and six ounces.
We would find smaller tributaries off the main river and walk the center of these canals, casting from side to side to catch fish.
One instance I hooked a Pickerel then placed it on a stringer that was tied to the back of my belt and continued to fish. After a short while, I began to receive taps on my lower back. Turning around, I jumped out of my clothes and skin, figuratively speaking as the fish’s head looked like a huge snake. Needless to say, this did not dissuade my pursuit of the fresh water Barracuda in this manner.
Ya know, this would make a great beast in a science fiction novel . . . just sayin’.
This is just a short trip down my memory lane, I wanted to share with you.
Have a wonderful week and:
May the Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.
I rarely find myself with a lack of material to write–not so, many years ago. When I was a young lad, I spent a large portion of my time fishing in the Chickahominy River/Swamp. What I did back then to catch fish would now be labeled as crazy (e.g., walking down the middle of the river, casting to each bank so as not to miss a spot where a fish might be hanging out.)
The prize species to catch was a Chain Pickerel. We always called them Pike, and if I remember correctly, a four-pound specimen could win you a citation.
What many people do not realize is a Pickerel is prized for its white delicious flesh, considered one of the best in the fresh water world of fishing.
I remember days when I would literally have to fight a snake for a particular fishing ground. Occasionally, this confrontation would take place when I was chest deep in water. It didn’t matter to me. I came to fish! As far as I was concerned, if need be, one of us was going to die to maintain the right to fish and it wasn’t gonna be me.
Those indeed were the days. During the summer, I spent almost every day reeling in my share of Chain Pickerel. Not only were they delicious, but they also retained the nickname, “Wolf of the Water.” They would hit like a ton of bricks and fight every inch of the way. If you were unfortunate enough to get your hand in its mouth, well, let’s say a bear attack comes to mind.
I’ll never forget, pulling in the wonderful bounty of sweet delectable flesh, attached to a creature who was not afraid to take you on.