|
Back to Adopt-A-Fish Home Page 
|
 
|
  |
 
|
 by Mark Henckel I am a great fisherman, that you should know. Though I'm just a kid, I'm a little fish pro. I have my own rod and my own fishing hat, And I even have Socks, my own fishing cat. With a tackle box full of flies, lures and hooks, Some sinkers and bobbers and old fishing books, I've got plenty of stuff, to fish big lakes and streams. But mostly I fish them, at night in my dreams. Cause I'm just a kid, I'm not big enough to go, To faraway spots like a real fishing pro. So me and old Socks only fish close to home On a small fishing stream by the rocks and the foam. It's full of small fish. That suits me and Socks fine. We always have some little fish on the line. One day every week, Socks and I would go fish, And catch all the little fish there that we wish. I would build a small pool, with rocks by the shore, Keep my little fish there, then go catch some more. At the end of the day, I'd add up my count And compare this day's fish to last week's amount. On a worm or a spinner, a spoon or a fly, We'd catch so many fish, we don't need to lie. Then I'd throw them all back, watch them all swim away, So I could catch them again on some other day. But last week at the stream, a problem arose, A real tough kid problem would this fine day pose. It wasn't the kind of thing that you would guess, Would worry a pro, but it was, I confess. It happened so quick, in the blink of an eye, A big fish grabbed hold of the bait on my fly. It was such a big fish, for such a small kid, That I staggered and fell when he pulled as he did. He splashed and he jumped. I did not have him yet. He pulled and he fought all the way to my net. Somehow, I lifted him, just before he sank, Somehow, I pulled that big fish up the bank. He flopped and he wiggled, he kicked up the dust, He rolled and he jiggled, oh my, how he fussed. This fish wasn't little. He was fat and long, too. I caught a big fish! Now what should I do? I quickly unhooked him, put that fish in my pool, And was proud of myself, this big fish to fool. His gills were still panting, he rolled on his side, And Socks watched him closely, his cat eyes were wide. Each of us was thinking just what should we do? But each of us had a bit different view. I could take this fish home to be one of mom's dinners. But Socks saw a week of cat meals that were winners. If I killed him, my mom then could cook him real fine. I could let all my friends taste this fish that was mine. I could brag and cook, too, then we'd eat such a feast, But would it be better if he wasn't deceased? We could have so much fun if his life didn't end. If I'd take this fish home, I could make him my friend. He could live in the bathtub, or swim in the sink. I'd turn on the faucet, if he needed a drink. I could feed him some worms, or maybe big bugs. I'd promise he wouldn't splash water on rugs. He'd be clean, he'd be neat and he'd be very quiet. He wouldn't bark or meow or cause a pet riot. And my big fish wouldn't have to just stay at home, With me as his friend, away we could roam. There wasn't a place that we couldn't go, With me as his guide, my fish friend to show. I could get a big tank and put that on my bike, We could ride around town to places we'd like. We'd go to the playground and play there together. He would smile the most in the wettest of weather. Of course, he'd be tops at the old swimming hole. He could teach all my friends to jump, dive, and roll. He'd be first to dive in, with some fancy pose. He wouldn't waste time having to take off his clothes. When the school year began, he could be in my class. If we studied together, I know we'd both pass. He and I would do math. We'd write and we'd read. We'd have all the answers on tests that we need. We'd be such good friends, just my fish and me. I bet I could teach him to climb up a tree. He'd watch me run races, looking for wins. I'd teach him to run, too, using his fins. We'd go on vacation, take a trip to the ocean. He'd be so surprised to see those waves in motion. I would show him some seals, a walrus and whales. If I didn't show him, he'd think they're tall tales. Many places, fun things could fill up our days, We'd have so much fun in so many ways. He'd be my close friend to do this or do that. But what about Socks, my old fishing cat? In all of my dreams, I had left Socks behind. My cat, my old friend, had just slipped my mind. How could I forget what our friendship meant. How could I forget all the places Socks went. We went fishing and biking. I snuck him in school. We had climbed all the trees. He swam in my pool. I took Spots on vacation, when I went with the folks, We had slept in a tent, and at night, we told jokes. As I sat by the stream and stroked my cat friend, Socks purred and he poked his back up in a bend. I couldn't stop smiling and petting Socks then, It was such a warm feeling to find him again. I looked at my fish swimming in the small pool, Shaded by trees, in the waters so cool. Other fish and this stream were all that he knew, I couldn't help thinking that he had friends, too. If I kept him and took him away from this spot, He might not be happy. Oh no, he might not. My fish might be sad. He might wonder why I'd make him so blue, so blue that he'd die. Away from his home, his clean water and food, He'd probably wonder why I was so crude. Living life without friends would make him so sad, He'd wonder why humans like me were so bad. So I made up my mind then and there on the spot, Though I liked my big fish, I liked him a lot, That I'd let him go, too, and not keep him with me, Turn him loose in the stream, with his friends to be free. I could always come back and fish there once more, And hope that I'd catch him like I did before. I could see my big fish on some other day, Not just as dinner or a friend who could play. As for me and my cat, our friendship's not done, Like all fishing friends, we'll come back and have fun. Just old Socks and me, the little fish pro, Catching fish after fish, then letting them go. 
Montana PikeMasters Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks |