The summer day invited me in my youthful freedom to commit to the tasks of digging worms from the garden, and heading on the bike down to Cheney Creek. I picked an ideal spot at the outside of the last bend before the river, and sat down on the best log one could have hoped for, right at the edge of the bank. Those crappie were in abundance, without a doubt!
Opening the tackle box, I selected the proper sized bobber and adjusted it to about 6 inches, where I knew the bluegills were. The worm cooperated and was soon swimming or whatever it would be doing in such a situation.
To shorten the story, I'll just relate that substantial time went by with less than the expected success. (Never caught much fish!)
The day wore on and fresh worms took their turns. I was begining to realize that the fish probably had moved along in the current. A sudden rustling from under the log I had rested on all this time caught my attention. Imagine my surprise as a 4 foot water moccasin slithered out between my feet and swam away across the creek.
Of course there had to be more snakes around, reasoned my startled mind, as I dashed off trailing the bobber and worm. That pretty much ended fishing desires until the Guam years, which is another story.
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