Caught in that awkward proximity he waved calmly. It was a sacred moment. And fisherfolk have to share this wonder with their children. Sometimes the infection takes, sometimes not. I always thought that understanding the sacredness of this primitive sport was an important lesson to be learned.
Water slaps the stern, fills the transom and drains.
We're out of trouble again, drinking beer, talking of money, rinsing in a fresh bucket the bloody pliers, the bent hooks. And our children, trussed in their orange preservers, are playing in the cutty as if they were home. Fundamentally, of course, I fish because it is fun. There is a comic side to even the mightiest conquest. Elizabeth Bishop has described this in a wonderful poem that I love and like to read.