The Trout
I grew up on a freshwater lake in central Texas. All in all, it was a pleasant experience, lots of time outdoors, alone or with siblings. We swam, jumped and dove off cliffs, water skied, and fished. We did a LOT of fishing! Sometimes we fished for pleasure. Most of the time we fished for our dinner. After years of "forced" fishing, it began to lose its luster for me.
It appears Sam inherited my initial youthful love for fishing. Sam, my oldest son, began fishing when he was old enough to hold a bamboo pole in one hand and his bottle of formula in the other. He still has that same fishing gleam in his eyes to this day, and will go fishing at the drop of a hat if anyone will go with him.
When my sons were young boys we started camping out in Colorado for our summer vacation. My husband and I tried to convince everyone we did this for our children, to expose them to the beauty and grandeur of raw nature, fresh air, wildlife and outdoor experiences. But everyone knew we really did it for ourselves; we LOVED camping in the high country! It rejuvenated our inner beings, making us able to survive life in the big city for another year.
It was when Sam was about 9 years old that he had the fishing and learning experience of his life. We were on our way back from Colorado, having spent a week exploring rivers and lakes searching for the illusive trout. He wanted to catch a trout so much on that particular trip; it was all he talked about beginning weeks before our vacation and during the whole week in Colorado. But the trout were very illusive; there had been no strikes, no nibbles, and only a handful of sightings. We pulled into a KOA Kampground in the middle of nowhere in northern New Mexico, expecting to have a quick dinner, a little conversation and early to bed. It had been a long week, and the next day would be a long drive back across Texas to Austin and home.
We went to the little snack bar attached to the campground office and were greeted by Indian Joe, a part-Indian who served as handy man in off season and reliable guide in hunting season. We listened to some of his stories about guiding groups of hunters on hunting trips into the high country of New Mexico and Colorado. We were all mesmerized by his stories, especially Sam.
Indian Joe asked us how our vacation had gone, and we related our tale of woe about being "troutless," and how disappointed Sam was. Indian Joe asked Sam if he would like to catch a trout right then, and of course his answer was "YES!" Indian Joe promised Sam that he would catch a trout within 5 minutes of starting to fish. He then explained to us that the only "hitch" was that this was a commercial venture and we would have to pay the standard rate for fishing, $1 per inch of fish caught. Needless to say, my husband and I were feeling pretty confident that this fishing adventure would not cost us a single penny, but that we would probably have to watch our son disappointed again.
Once the arrangements were made, Indian Joe took Sam aside and began instructing him on the fine points of trout fishing ... what they will strike, where to find them, think like a fish, and above all be patient, ever so patient. He instructed him that whenever he caught a fish he should give thanks to the Great Spirit for the bounty of the waters, and not to waste any fish caught. Then we all trekked down to a little stream that flowed across the back of the campground, the smallest stream I had run across yet in Colorado or New Mexico. No way would there be any fish in 2 inches of water in a stream only 2 to 5 feet wide. Sam and Indian Joe walked ahead and examined the stream carefully; every now and then we would hear a squeal of glee as a fish was spotted. Then the serious fishing started.
True to his word, within 3 minutes Sam had caught a trout! My husband and I looked at each other, then at the fish, and quickly tabulated that this 3 minutes of fishing was going to cost us more than we ever expected. The fish measured out at 12 inches, but it was the best $12 we had ever spent. That night I fried 1 trout along with the hamburgers, and Sam had the meal of his life! What a memory he would have of this day!
Sam still remembers the trout he caught in a narrow, shallow stream in New Mexico, and he remembers the advice of Indian Joe, not just about "how to catch a trout," but about respecting nature and being thankful for its bounty. He carries those thoughts with him even today. I will always be thankful for Indian Joe's willingness to take under wing a disappointed little boy, and show him the way to become a mature sportsman with both a passion and a respect for fishing. Although I had lost my own passion for fishing over the years, Indian Joe restored some of it in that short 3 minutes, and I will always be so thankful that Indian Joe came along and took over where I had fallen aside.
© 1998
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