The One That Got Away

(A true fishing story...really!)
By: Sharon K. Shubert

(Previously published by Pottsboro Press and by The Denison Herald)

My mother has pictures of fishing adventures we had years ago. No big catches, but big smiles and even bigger stories of the one that got away.

I can't say I didn't enjoy fishing as a child-I did, but my least favorite part was baiting the hook. I enjoyed more than anything, the quiet calm of an afternoon sitting on a rock by the water's edge, thinking, daydreaming or just relaxing.

Afternoons when I had time on my hands, I'd pack up my rod and reel, my radio and bait and wade my way through the thick weeds and brush to the nearest stock pond. While I sat there patiently waiting for my record catch, I'd listen to my favorite stations, singing along. If I grew bored when the fish just weren't being social, I'd lay back in the thick, cool grass and just enjoy!

After I married and started a family, fishing didn't seem to fit into my schedule among a full-time job, a mortgage and motherhood. I can count on one hand the number of afternoons I spent sitting on the bank with a fishing pole. For relaxation I had to depend on Calgon to take me away as little hands knocked on the door.

One summer vacation we packed up the car and drove up to Beaver's Bend, a couple of hours drive from our home. At the last minute, I threw in my dusty, old fishing gear, neglected all these years. Well, you never know, I thought to myself.

My youngest son and I decided to spend our first day with the ducks down at the lake shore. We packed a picnic basket full of goodies, retrieved our fishing gear and struck out. I wanted to share my fishing expertise with my eight-year-old.

We fished and talked and threw chips out to the ducks; a nice way to spend the day. There was one particular duck who hoarded all the food--he was the bully of the flock I guess. Well, he made a BIG mistake when he chased after my bait as I cast out. He swam right into my hook which caught him in the leg! I felt a tug on my line and I pulled hard to set the hook and started reeling in my catch, unaware of what a really big one I had on the other end of the line! Even after I realized what had happened, I kept reeling him in slowly, thinking I'd just pull the hook out and that would be that. Wrong!

I was in total panic by the time this duck came out of the water! My son was bewildered and screaming that his mommy had caught a duck! Needless to say, this scene was beginning to draw a crowd as the loud thing honked and flapped his wings wildly. I was suffering from a horrendous case of embarrassment, believe you me!

Finally, I threw my rod and reel down and took hold of the line, and while it cut into my hands, tried to ease the duck toward me. He wanted no part of that! Suddenly I remembered the knife in the tackle box and cut him loose from his now hysterical human captor! He shook his self, gave one last honk and waddled back into the water, the fishing line still attached, trailing behind.

The worst part of this fishing expedition was not the laughing crowd of people who witnessed the whole ordeal and more than likely will tell their grandchildren about it in years to come. It was not even the fact that I had to hunt down the park ranger who looked at me like I was crazy when I confessed to him that I had injured a State Park duck. I do believe the hardest part was when my family asked me if we caught anything. I hesitated until Justin began tattling on me and then, of course, I couldn't call him a liar. I had to admit to the whole thing. Don't you think they had a laugh?!

Now....that's my fishing story.

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