Tag: Fishing

Fingle’s Deep Sea Dive

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 9 Comments

This morning I’m going to respond to Sadje’s weekend “What do you see?” prompt and including the Ragtag Daily Prompt — this morning it’s VOLUME — in my fishy tale.

Sadje’s prompt: Image credit; Saffu @ Unsplash

Fingle’s Deep Sea Dive

“Morning, Zander. Wha’cha doin’ there?”

“Hey, Mario. I’m watchin’ for Fingle. He’s gone deep-sea diving.”

Mario came up and stood beside him on the dock. “What? Here? In thirty feet of water? Does he have scuba gear?”

“Nah. He dropped his best fishing rod between here and the island. Says he’s not givin’ up ‘til he finds it.”

“Hope he finds it soon or he’ll miss the free food. Mitch’s got a barbecue goin’ at his place and says we’re all welcome. Why don’t you leave Fingle to his rod rescue and come get…”

Suddenly Fingle’s head popped out of the water about twenty metres out. After a couple of gasps and sputters, he called, “Did someone say free food?” He swam to the dock.

“How in the world…? I didn’t think I had that much volume,” Mario exclaimed.”

“Sound travels well underwater, you know.” Fingle climbed onto the dock and stood dripping on the boards. “I’m coming, too. Hope they don’t mind if I’m a little damp.”

Zander grinned. “We’ll tell ’em you went overboard chasing the BIG one.”

“Just so’s you’re not gonna be a wet blanket,” Mario added. “Moaning over your lost rod.”

“I can look for it tomorrow. Right now I’m hungry.”

“Yeah.” Zander nudged Mario. “Fingle’s stomach’s bigger than his fishing rod.”

Wet or dry, a good BBQ was had by all. 🙂

Image by Pexels — Pixabay

The Osprey’s Prize

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 2 Comments

The Ragtag Daily Prompt today is THUNDEROUS and I actually found two ways of using it.

Image by Kanenori — Pixabay

The storm had moved on, leaving a few trailing rumbles and a stiff breeze. Thunderous waves were still crashing on the rocks as I began my afternoon walk, strolling along the dunes overlooking the beach. I always start out facing the wind; I find going home is so much easier with the wind pushing you along.

I noticed an osprey braving the breezes as well, soaring high above the churning waves. Must be hungry. Probably missed his lunch because of the storm. I stopped to watch as the bird dived toward the surface, talons extended.

What sort of prize would it have as it rose into the air again? But the bird didn’t rise. It screamed as it fought to lift off and I caught sight of a writhing curve of scales. A huge fish; a good lunch indeed. I watched the contest for awhile, fascinated.

The osprey battled bravely but its prize seemed too great to pull out of the water. I wondered why the bird didn’t give up and let go, then the light dawned: its claws were likely hooked in the fish so that it couldn’t let go. I observed sadly as the osprey, screaming and beating the air, slowly lost strength.

Finally the bird’s strength was gone and it settled on the roiling water before a large wave rolled over it. I watched in horror as its wings thrashed the water for a moment, then with one last wild scream the osprey sank under the wave.

The next morning dawned calm and sunny, so I walked along the dunes again, scanning the shore. Finally I spotted the bodies of the osprey and its fish, still hooked together, lying on the beach where the sea had tossed them. That fish would have made a great dinner. Seagulls were feasting on both.

The Constant Sea

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 3 Comments
Image by K Moser — Pixabay

The salt smell of the sea, the foamy breakers, the incessant screaming of the gulls in their wild play. These familiar sights and sounds soothe old Matt as he walks along the beach. When life is out of kilter he wanders down to the beach again to watch that constant rolling reminder that life goes on. There’s something solid about the sea. The thought makes him smile. It’ll be here ’til the end of time.

He delights in recalling the days of long ago when he worked with his uncles on the Doughty Daisy before a vicious storm tossed her on the rocks. He sees again the line of fishing boats heading out to sea, imagines the wind, the spray, the thrill of it all when, as a young deck hand, he was part of the crew harvesting the sea.

He thinks of the wild storms that held them in port for several days – or worse, swept down on them while they were filling their nets. All hands on deck back then, fighting to ride the waves and keep the equipment – and each other – from washing overboard. Those were the days when you worked, boy!

The fishing isn’t good now, the new crews tell him. Too many fish harvested by the factory ships; stocks haven’t had a chance to replenish like they should. Cod are about gone, they say, and rarely do you find the big tuna anymore.

He turns to watch the gulls wheeling, ever on the lookout for some tasty gift from the sea, and squabbling over it when they find it. Ah, now they’ve spotted something further up the beach. A couple of gulls have landed beside it, one’s carefully inspecting it while the other argues “finders-keepers” with his mates in the air.

“Now what do you suppose those birds have found?” Matt slowly makes his way over to the spot. By the time he gets there the gulls have flown away. He looks down and laughs. A tube of Paradise Suntan Lotion – Economy size. Just what he needs. He sticks it in his pocket; there’s a trash can up along the walkway.

Fandango’s One Word Challenge: INCESSANT
Your Daily Word Prompt: SUPPOSE

Almost on Time

~ Christine Goodnough ~ Leave a comment

The Word of the Day prompt this morning is ALMOST. We’ve had a lovely week weather-wise, but our predicted high for today is only 4 C, so we can assume our Indian summer is almost over. Today we’re going to visit family two hours south of here, before the snow flies and traveling gets iffy.

Here’s another story of ALMOST.

THE OLD, OLD STORY

by Edgar Guest

I have no wish to rail at fate,
and vow that I’m unfairly treated;
I do not give vent to my hate
because at times I am defeated.
Life has its ups and downs, I know,
But tell me why should people say
whenever after fish I go:
“You should have been here yesterday”?

It is my luck always to strike
a day when there is nothing doing,
when neither perch nor bass nor pike
my bated hooks will come a-wooing.
Must I a day late always be?
When not a nibble comes my way
must someone always say to me,
“We caught a bunch here yesterday”?

I am not prone to discontent,
nor over-zealous now to climb;
if victory is not yet meant
for me I’ll calmly bide my time.
but I should like just once to go
out fishing on some lake or bay
and not have someone mutter: “Oh,
you should have been here yesterday!”

From his book, Collected Verse of Edgar A Guest
c. 1934 by The Reilly & Lee Company