Hooked

It was a day like many others I had experienced this year; calm, serene, and bubbly. Bubbly, you ask? Yes, it was a bubbly stream, flowing slowly, lazily, gently over rocks and downed tree limbs.

I looked up and saw two shadows falling along the edge of the stream. They moved silently forward and without any noise slipped into the stream. Their faces were downstream, yet they did not seem to see me. I just watched as they slowly prepared their fly fishing poles. The poles were long, straight and likely made of bamboo. Onto them they tied something on the end. It looked like an insect but one with extraordinary color and vibrancy.

I wordlessly watched as they began to cast their lines. The graceful arcs of each cast were hypnotizing and spellbinding. I was mesmerized as each cast reached further and further down the stream. The casts came closer to my place near the edge where I could see the insect on the end of the line. Suddenly, I realized it was a "Copper John". Too late!

"It's a keeper!" I was hooked.