True Story

I loved teaching because it often gave me the opportunity to tell true stories. This one is one of my favorites.

Having grown up in a home were my father and older brother loved to fish, we often got together to tell true fish stories.

My Brother tells me that there was a particular fishing hole that he loved to visit each year. It was in one of the areas in the high mountains where streams run only in the spring when the snow is melting. When the snow is melted and the streams stop running, fish often are trapped in small ponds where food is scarce and fish don't grow as well as they do in running streams.

It was in one of those fishing holes that we got acquainted with an old rainbow trout and his world. The old trout was distinctive. He had a huge head in comparison with the size of his body. Don or Red as he is known, was determined that he was going to catch that old fish. He tried flies and lures and live bait, but he old critter had been around too long to fall for those ordinary measures. Don was determined not to be outdone by any old fish.

Each year for several years, he returned to the same fishing hole with a different ploy to get old "Grandpa Colors" on the end of his line. One year, Red, some of his friends and I went to the high country to camp out for a few days. This year was going to be different.

We camped in the middle of a beautiful green meadow just a few yards from the old fishing hole. After trying the usual means for catching the wiley old trout, Red threw his rods and hooks aside and took to the fishing hole with his bare hands.

I heard a hoot and a holler and out of a torrent of splashing mud, red hair, freckles and water, I saw the old trout fly into the air and onto the green bank beside the pool. Red scrambled out of the water and onto the bank. He grabbed a cast iron skillet that was beside the nearby campfire and tied it to the old fish. He called me over to see his catch. In his excitement, he turned his back on the fish and he heard a big splash. The fish was gone!

Red had stirred up so much mud in the pond that he was unsuccessful in finding old Grandpa Colors. Reluctantly, the camp was folded up, and we went home. We'd have to wait till another time to catch the sly old critter.

The next spring, we returned to the high country determined to bring home some trout out of the pond. We dropped our tents and sleeping bags on the meadow before we went to the water. In the edges of the crystal clear pond, we could see hundreds of tiny minnows swimming, each with a tiny frying pan tied to his tail.

Do you have a "true" story to post?