The sun is shining, and the sky is crystal clear. The air around me is crisp and cool, reminding me that autumn is just around the corner. Trout season at the Chattahoochee River is coming to a close. I know that today is the day that I will catch my first fish ever.
I walk along the worn trail that leads towards a popular fishing spot at the Chattahoochee, a broad boulder looking over the river. I feel rejuvenated, away from my busy life, away from school, away from all the happenings of the world. I settle myself and my belongings. My parents have come along, too, to watch the moment the first fish a member of our family has ever caught flies out of the water. Once I’ve gotten myself comfortable, I hook a minnow onto my line and cast it across the sparkling water of
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the Chattahoochee.
Fishing tests your patience; if you want to catch a fish, you’re going to have to wait. I dip my feet into the icy water of the river and wait, wait, wait. I feel relaxed, surrounded by nature, but the air around me is also buzzing with the excitement. Goats graze on the grass that grows atop the rocky cliff across from me, and a gentle breeze whispers through the ivy that drapes over it. My hands are gripped tightly around my rod, ready to reel up my first catch, ready for the weight of a monster fish, ready for anything. Out of nowhere, I feel the slightest tug on my line and see a flash of rainbow scales beneath the water. I see my fishing rod bending with weight, which could mean only one thing: FISH ON! I begin to reel it in, inch by inch. The trout flies out of the water, glistening as the setting sun reflects off of its scales. The sky is ablaze, full of different shades of magenta, orange, and scarlet. It was as if an artist had painted the sky with the skillful strokes of their paintbrush. I hear my parents gasp with awe behind me. The first
fish you catch will always be the best fish, no matter how big or small it is. After I put the trout into the ice chest, I set up my rod and continue to catch more fish. Today must be my lucky day! Every time I feel a tug and reel in, there is a fish on the end of my line. The ice chest is almost full, heavy with the fish that I’d caught throughout the day. The blazing sun is peeking over the side of the cliff, teasing me that the day is almost over. Once I run out of minnows, I go home, I decided. Before I know it, I run out of minnows and it is already night-time. The sky is an inky indigo, and the stars look like pinholes in a celestial quilt covering the planet. I close my eyes and focus on my surroundings. I hear the occasional bleat of a goat, the river lapping gently against the shore, and geese honking as they take off into the night. When I open my eyes again, I see the twinkles of the occasional firefly, the moon, a shimmering orb of silver high in the sky, and the silhouette of tree branches against the moonlight. I suddenly realized that time had flown by and that we should be heading home now. I begin to pack up my belongings, putting everything in its correct place. My dad lugs the heavy ice chest full of fish ahead. My mom and I walk along the trail, side by side, fishing rod in hand.
I am reading “The Bass, the River, and Shelia Mant” by W.D. Wetherell, The story is about a young boy trying to choose between a beautiful girl and his passion of fishing. In this journal, I will be questioning and evaluating.
“Suddenly, she heard a rustling in the bush, the sound of someone coming down from the narrow path from the road above… “I’m sorry, I always come here to fish on Saturday afternoons and I’ve never encountered anyone here before.” (Arnason, page
To elaborate, after the narrator asks Sheila on a date, he brings his fishing rod because he never went anywhere that summer "without a fishing rod" revealing that fishing is what he likes to do and is important to him. He adds when he wasn't trying to impress Sheila Mant, he "was fishing the river for bass" explaining that he spends a lot of time fishing and he enjoys it very much. Before Sheila Mant, fishing has been his true passion. Nonetheless, the narrator becomes torn between Sheila and fishing. During the date, as the narrator discusses fish, Sheila pronounces that she believes "fishing's dumb" which created a dilemma with the narrator because fishing is what he cherished as extremely as Sheila. His rash desire masks his true passion and provokes the narrator to hide his passion from Sheila. Furthermore, the narrator hooks the largest fish he has seen inside his fishing pole and realizes that "Sheila must not know" because he would have given anything not to "appear dumb in [her] eyes." His superficial values and hunger for Sheila cause him to hide his passion in exchange for the possibility of Sheila's love. His desire for Sheila forces him to try to seem sufficient enough Sheila's love even if it means endangering his passion. Instantly, the tug of Sheila was too great for him and he extracted a knife and "cut the line in half" forcing his passion
Watching Eddy fish, Gus absorbs a lot of information that before was totally unseen to him. Not only about fishing, but about this woman and about himself, needing to learn from her. He says on page 152 “I felt for the first time that I was in the presence of a fishing genius exceeding my own.” He is enthralled by her fishin...
In the Maclean family, fly-fishing was portrayed as the link that brought the father closer to his two sons. Not only did the family strongly believe in their Presbyterian values, but they believed that fly-fishing was an important way to release their frustrations and just relax together every Sunday after church. In Norman Maclean’s novella, A River Runs Through It, a sport that started out as a hobby transformed into a tradition that brought discipline and structure into a family that seemed as though they would never be able to get along. In everyone’s life there is one activity that brings him or her these same feelings and emotions, it is just up to them to find it.
My friend had invited me along with him and his family to the ocean. It was vacation for the family, but for him and me it was the beginning of a week of serious business. We had an obsessive hobby to pursue. As avid and long-term freshwater fisherman, we were thrilled by the thought of catching those large and exotic saltwater fish we had seen on television a billion times before. Yet little did we expect there to be such vast differences between our freshwater fishing and the saltwater fishing, which we were about to pursue. We learned through trial and much error that in order to have a successful saltwater fishing experience we had to make adjustments to all the freshwater tackle, tactics, and gear we knew.
Coming home from the grueling experience of being a soldier in World War I, he felt ecstatic when he saw a trout swimming in the stream. The perils of war took a devastating toll on Nick, as he suffered from a physical wound while in action. The camping trip here is like an oasis, which will let Nick to recover from all the distress. “Nick looked down into the pool from the bridge. It was a hot day. A kingfisher flew up from the stream. It was a long time since Nick had looked into a stream and seen trout. They were very satisfactory...Nick’s heart tightened as the trout moved. He felt all the old feeling.” (178) The healing process begins here with Nick re-acclimating himself with one of his favorite hobbies: fishing. “He started down to the stream, holding his rod...Nick felt awkward and professionally happy with all the equipment hanging from him...His mouth dry, his heart down...Holding the rod far out toward the uprooted tree and sloshing backward in the current, Nick worked the trout, plunging, the rod bending alive, out of the danger of the weeds into the open river. Holding the rod, pumping alive against the current, Nick brought the trout in...” (190,193,195) Nick finally reels in a trout after the big one got away, getting to the feeling of relaxation and washing away the horrors of war. By pitching his tent out in the forest and being able to function by himself so smoothly, Nick shows how he represents the trait of stoicism. He did not complain or stop living, coming back with the trauma of war. Going camping, he is able to relieve himself through using all the nature around him, showcasing his
In The Rainbow Fish by Marcus Pfister tells how a beautiful, extraordinary, yet, self-centered blue fish learns that being beautiful isn’t the key to happiness. The blue fish came to find this lesson when he lost his friends. Pfister takes a simple ocean setting and explores the consequences of an individual’s arrogance toward their peers, the process of humbling of oneself, and the tremendous reward one feels when they learn to share. The story achieves these morals by the author’s use of detailed imager and also, the influence of minor characters on the antihero in order to reveal to the audience the true thematic message; selfish actions bring true happiness.
A poem without any complications can force an author to say more with much less. Although that may sound quite cliché, it rings true when one examines “The Fish” by Elizabeth Bishop. Elizabeth’s Bishop’s poem is on an exceedingly straightforward topic about the act of catching a fish. However, her ability to utilize thematic elements such as figurative language, imagery and tone allows for “The Fish” to be about something greater. These three elements weave themselves together to create a work of art that goes beyond its simple subject.
One sunny day during the summer of 2008, my uncle called me and asked if I wanted to go fishing with him. I said that I’d love to go; he told me that he’d pick me up around 12:30. I got ready and left to go fishing. When we arrived at the pond a man came out of the in front of the house in front of the pond and introduced himself. He said that his name was Tim and that he works with my uncle. Before he left, he told us that we could fish as long as we wanted and he vanished.
Bishop, E. (1946). "The Fish." Compact literature: Reading, reacting, writing. (pp. 968-970). Boston, MA: Wadsworth Publishing Company.
A killer whale is a large toothed whale with distinctive black and white markings and a large fin. Killer whales are marine mammals that have violent behavior that can be recognized when they are trapped in small pools. Having killer whales in captivity is harmful to not only them but to killer whale trainers.
I used to love fish. Ever since I was a toddler I loved everything fish themed! ‘Rainbow Fish’, by Marcus Pfister, was one of my favorite children’s books and I even had a lot of Rainbow fish themed stuffed animals and toys. “Mom, can you read me Rainbow Fish again?” I said while I layed on my stomach with my face down on the pillow. “Ok Sweetie.”, My mom said with a smile on her face, probably for the 5th time that night. One of my favorite movies as a child was Finding Nemo. I had to have sat down on the couch at least once a week to watch Finding Nemo, and take in the beauty of the ocean and all the cute little animated fishies. I had an ocean themed bathroom. I was too careless as a child to really care about the decor, as I picked my tooth
Sitting in the back seat between two towering piles of clothes and snacks we drive up the abandoned streets of Adell. I see vast open fields of corn and dense wooded forest filled with life, along with the occasional, towering grain house. We pull into a dry, dusty, driveway of rock and thriving, overgrown weeds. We come up to an aged log cabin with a massive crab apple tree with its sharp thorns like claws. The ancient weeping willow provides, with is huge sagging arms, shade from the intense rays of the sun. Near the back of the house there is a rotten, wobbly dock slowly rotting in the dark blue, cool water. Near that we store our old rusted canoes, to which the desperate frogs hop for shelter. When I venture out to the water I feel the thick gooey mud squish through my toes and the fish mindlessly try to escape but instead swim into my legs. On the lively river banks I see great blue herring and there attempt to catch a fish for their dinner. They gracefully fly with their beautiful wings arching in the sun to silvery points.
One of the most unique creatures are fish. As I am sitting here in my room, my fish are swimming about with not a care in the world. I wonder what it would feel like to be a fish.