January 9, 2014 – Lovely County Citizen – Page
The Village Writing School In this weather, it’s great to let Nancy Harris take us on a summer camping trip.
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Licorice Worms
taring at the seventy fishing lures in my tackle box, each snuggled in its own rectangular compartment, I marveled at their beauty. Painted with meticulous detail, each lure was a work of art. Fins, gills, open or closed mouths, colors ranging from olive green and silver to chartreuse and cobalt blue, they looked back at me with realistic eyes. Sharp hooks attached to their bodies with tiny screws sparkled in the sunlight. Should I try the Rapala, so sleek and aerodynamically shaped, or a less flashy Wiggle Wart, long and silvery gray to mimic shad? Which would attract the large walleye I had come all the way to Perrault Falls, Ontario to catch? I pondered the choices. Gordon turned, his line already in the water. “What are you looking for?” “The right lure.” “You got a hook on your line?” “Yes, but I think I’ll take it off and put on one of these lures.” “Here you go.” He set a Styrofoam container the size of a cereal bowl on the seat. “Put one of these on your hook. It’ll catch a big one.” I closed the tackle box, then carefully picked up the container. “What’s in here?” I eased off the plastic lid. Squirming around in the water were blobs of black, each constricting, then stretching its body. “Eweeee, what are these things? Don’t tell me. They’re leeches?” “Supposed to be the best bait for this lake.” “Gross! How do you get them on the hook?” “It’s not rocket science. Grab one and jab it onto the hook. Works best if you get the hook close to the middle.” “Don’t they have sucker thingies for mouths?” “Yep. If it sticks on you, just pull it off.” Normally I’m not squeamish about bait. I have no problem with grubs, worms, night crawlers, minnows or even a lethargic crawdad. I can plunge my hand right into a can of worms or a bucket loaded with minnows that tickle your hand as they dart by, but thinking
about the possibility of a leech attaching itself to my body left me nauseous. “Honey,” I said in my sweetest voice. “Could you maybe put one of these licorice worms on my hook for me?” “You can to do it yourself.” “Please, pretty please.” “Just grab one and stick it on the hook.” No way was I going to stick my hand in that container. I looked around the boat for something I might use to pick up a leech. There was a minnow net, its green mesh pouch just the right size. But how would I get the leech from the pouch onto the hook? Maybe I could plunge the hook into the container and spear a leech without having to touch it. Yes, that might work. Carefully, I positioned the fingers of my left hand on the edge of the hook’s metal loop where the line was attached. My right hand held the contained a safe distance from my body, just in case. Taking a deep breath, I held the hook above the water and waited for the perfect opportunity to single out a leech and jab the hook into his middle. Opportunity did not come. The leeches continued wiggling and squirming. “Settle down I told them.” They did not listen. Could they sense one would become a sacrificial offering? Were they working together to discourage me? I sat poised to attack until my fingers cramped, and I dropped the hook into the water. The splash sent the leeches into a frenzied dance. Several crawled up the side of the container perilously close to the top. I shook the container, sloshing the water over the escaping leeches. Some water slopped over the side and onto my feet. “Ahhhh,” I yelled. Gordon turned around to see what I was doing. “Haven’t you got one on yet?” he ask, clearly amused at my lack of progress. “I’ve had a couple of strikes. Hurry up, you’re wasting good fishing time.” “I’m working on it. You just fish; don’t worry about me.” “I can’t believe you’re being such a chicken.” Chuckling, he shook his head and
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To support our local writers, the Lovely County Citizen is providing space each week to showcase a student of The Village Writing School. For more information, email alisontaylorbrown@me.com or call (479) 292-3665
This Week’s Writer Nancy Harris turned back to his fishing, leaving me staring at the churning black mass in the container. Then I spotted them. There they were, lying on the rod holder compartment. Red handled with long sleek silver extensions joined together, they were beautiful. Longnosed pliers! I fished out the hook and sat the container on the tackle box. The new strategy required both hands. Holding the hook in one hand and the pliers in the other, I opened the pliers wide and slowly lowered the pointed ends into the water. The leeches continued to squirm and wiggle bumping into the pliers. I patiently waited, wondering what I would do if this method did not work. In a few seconds, the leeches calmed down. It was time to make my move. I carefully maneuvered the pliers around the middle of a leech, squeezed just tight enough to take hold, and lifted it out of the water to the hook. Without stopping, for fear I’d drop the leech, I jabbed the hook through its body. The leech wiggled and squirmed but stayed on the hook. I could see the tiny suction cups on each end. I felt faint, but jubilant. The leech quickly sunk out of sight when I threw the line over the side of the boat. Finally, I was fishing. I breathed a sigh of relief. That wasn’t so bad I thought, proud of my cleverness. A few minutes later, Gordon caught a fish. He put the fish in the live well and swung back his line, hook ready for a new leech. “Oh no you don’t,” I told him. “You have to do it yourself.” Without turning around, he stuck his arm back, hand open. I put the container in his hand. He set the container down on the seat beside him, then stuck his arm back again. “Pliers please.”
Nancy Harris is a retired educator and school librarian and an avid reader who loves camping, fishing, and the outdoors. A SW Missouri native, she lives at Holiday Island. In addition to a blog on a woman’s view of camping, Nancy is working on a modern western novel.