Fetching Fish

by Kelli J. Gavin

When I was a child, I was quite close with my Grandma Collova. Grandma and I enjoyed games of rummy at her kitchen table and T.V. dinners watching Wheel of Fortune. She would doze after finishing her meal and wouldn’t rouse again until her show had finished. If it was terribly warm, we would sit outside under her shade tree and she would fill a small pool with water where we could cool down until mosquitoes drove us in for the evening.

When I received an invitation to stay at cousin Grace’s cabin for five days, my ten year old self could hardly contain my excitement. I would get my own bedroom and I could swim whenever I wanted to. Cousin Grace and her husband loved to play cards also, so I knew that Grandma and I would have plenty of opportunities to play with them.

I firmly believe I had built up this idea that their cabin would be an amazing mansion on the lake. It was not. It was small, had a strange smell to it and I saw a spider on my bed when I opened the door for the first time. The cabin wasn’t even on the lake, just near one. Grandma had made it sound like I needed to be careful because if I fell out of bed, I was in danger of rolling right into the lake. She always was a bit of a story enhancer.

Grace and her husband were wonderful company and my grandma and I knew that the next few days ahead would be filled with excellent meals from their garden, afternoon naps and great conversation. After an early dinner, I was told I could swim if I wanted to and that ice cream cones would be served promptly at 7:30 p.m.. I was thrilled as I walked towards the lake with my swim bag in hand knowing that I would be rewarded with my favorite dessert upon my return.

The small, sandy beach was vacant and I loved having the water to myself. Still a bit chilly, I waded slowly into the water. I had walked out a great distance and noticed that it wasn’t very deep but the water was so clear I could see the bottom. I saw lake grasses and shells, a few small minnows here and there, and then I stopped in my tracks. Sunfish the size of my arm swam all around me. I was so lucky that I happened upon this many fish my first evening in the water. But then I realized I was anything but lucky. Without a net or even a bucket, I was just an ill-equipped ten year old with a desire to catch fish.

Walking back closer to shore, I squatted down to sit in the clear water. My chin touched the top of the water, and I scanned to see if I had disturbed all of the fish. After a few minutes they returned to me and showed off their shiny scales in the late evening sun. Ow. Something bit my back. OW! And again. I quickly turned to see that I was surrounded by hungry fish who believed I could be their next meal. Holding out my hand, I struggled to not move as slight waves came in to shore. The fish didn’t seem to be afraid of me at all. Not only did they swim right next to my body, they started swimming underneath my arms.

Realizing the fish were so comfortable with humans being in their space on a resort and cabin lake, I would be able to touch them with little effort. Within the next ten minutes, they were swimming through my arms that I placed in a circle in the water and even through my cupped hands and stopping there so that I could actually pet them. Never in my life had I encountered fish that believed that humans were friends and didn’t pose a threat.

“Kelli, I brought you a bucket. You are apparently fetching dinner for tomorrow night.” I turned my head to see Grace’s husband on shore smiling at me.

“Really?” Bewildered, I had never been in charge of fetching dinner in all my ten years.

“Really. We will need approximately twelve of the small fish for the four of us. See what you can get.” Grace’s husband gently placed the bucket in the water and pushed it out to me so that I wouldn’t have to walk back to shore to get it.

Once I figured out how to hold the bucket while sitting in the water, I returned to cupping my hand. The fish acted as if they were honored to be chosen by me to be served for dinner the next night. One after another, I gently pressed my fingers together and placed the fish in the bucket. Only a few got away when they put up a struggle, but I was pleased with my efforts when I realized I had caught seventeen fish with my bare hands in less than an hour. Back on shore, I poured out half of the water as the bucket had become too heavy to carry. Placing it on the shore, I returned to the no longer chilly waters to finish my swim.

That summer I was ten, I spent the next four plus days fishing and filling their cabin freezer for the summer. I caught over 100 fish and was told they wouldn’t have to fish the rest of the summer because of my successful “fish fetching”. My Grandma loved knowing that I felt such a sense of accomplishment over helping Grace and her husband. I have never tasted better fish since that summer at the cabin.

Fond memories of childhood are sometimes the places that are visited, the activities participated in and the people involved. And sometimes they are the simple memories of fish that are caught in the palm of your hand.