Holdin' the Pole

Early spring the ranch hand planted catfish, bream, and bass seedlings in the Tin Star pond and has nursed them puppies since to raise a "crop".

This morn dawned with coolish weather and overcast and just seemed to whisper "fishin" in the fat boy's metaphorical ear.

Weren't nuthin to do but gather up the requisite acquisition devices, harvest a dozen night crawlers, and saunter with the beautiful bride down the path to our angling destiny.

Tasks were quickly assigned:

A. Bride catches all fish while squealing in girlish delight.

B. Ranch hand baits hook, takes fish off, makes appropriate admiring comments about the aforementioned bass pro's prowess (and otherwise stays the hell out of the way?)

The "mission" was launched and in short order our neophyte piscatorialist had landed 20 lively flip floppers of various lineage on the dock.

Don't tell her, but your humble scribe had much more fun watchin' the "show" than he ever could have holding the "pole"!