Thoughts of Pop

  January is the month that most folks prefer to be inside where it is nice and toasty.  February brings much of the same if not worse weather.  That month, too, is one that can chill a person to the bone. When we do have chilly weather here on the Bayou, I try to find some chore inside to keep me busy.  I will attend what is needed outside such as getting firewood or covering plants but most days are filled with inside drudgery.  In a way, it is strange that I do this since winter is my favorite season.  

  Back in the day, Pop always loved the winter if for no other reason than fishing was good.  He did not mind freezing temperatures as long as he was hauling in the large trout that filled the Bay.  Pop had an old wooden skiff that he sometimes had to shove a good distance over mud to get to the water.  He would take a board and shove the old boat for a good twenty feet sometimes and this was no easy task. The cold, biting wind was another obstacle he had to endure.  The man learned to dress in layers and top everything with a heavy rain-suit just to keep the biting wind from getting to him.  An old, oil lantern was kept in a bucket to keep his hands warm. Over this, he draped an old towel. Each time his hands became wet, the towel was nice and warm.  He just loved fishing that much.  The amazing thing is, he could catch fish when no one else could!  Other fishermen would tell him that there were "no fish in the Bay" and he would come home with a veritable boatload!

  When I was still in high school, I loved to go fishing with him.  On weekends, we would head out before dawn and, more oft than not, had buckets of large trout by 8 a.m.  On one such trip, we were catching fish one after another.  The live well in the boat was used to house our bait so he started tossing the fish up in the front of the old skiff.  That meant that the flip-flopping fish were under MY feet!  This was not a problem until there were about twenty or so fish slinging slime all over me!  Ok, Pop!  Turn around is fair play!  I started returning the favor and threw fish in the bottom of the boat under HIS feet!  By the end of our fishing trip, we had amassed forty or more of the large trout each weighing five pounds or better.  Pop knew his fishing!

  I miss those days spent with Pop.  I often think about our times together as I gaze out over the water.  He had passed on to me a bit of his knowledge, a love of fishing and a respect for the water and all that is in it.  I sure miss Pop.