image from basspro.com
Trout Hunting
“Fishing is much more than fish.”
--Herbert Hoover
I was twenty
as I pole-axed 17 miles
of trail, massaging the steepness
like a polished gigolo,
sieving the sweet, cold
creek water, flexing my kidneys,
flushing my cramping molecules
with rushing ice-cubed swallows,
pre-salmonella,
pre-smog,
pre-registering the hike--
burying my eyes in frozen bliss,
as the August sun spanked my brain,
and the fifty-pound wooden Trapper Nelson
pack kissed my spine.
I fished with my Remington .22 pistol,
its chromed hot barrel flash-barking
pleasantness as it spat brass,
hitting several curious fat rainbow
trout in the head, as I gauged the shots
relative to the parabolic bending of light.
So my grandfather and I had flesh rainbows for
dinner, their brightly colored sides blackening in
bacon grease, bubbling to a charred crackle, its
meat pope-white in the golden light, fin deep in
the cast iron frying pan--no fishing pole in sight
there in that verdant twilight, midst ankle-high
clover in a angelic valley at the foot of a glacier.
Later Mt. Stewart
squatted to join us around
our smiling campfire.
Glenn Buttkus
"as the August sun spanked my brain" ... Ha. That is awesome.
ReplyDeleteFantastic: "its chromed hot barrel flash-barking
pleasantness as it spat brass"
"So my grandfather and I had flesh rainbows for
dinner" ... So cool.
Simpler life in days gone by. Sounds lovely..I did eventually catch a fish, they seemed elusive for many years, but I let it go, the thrill was in the catch. That sunshine...childhood sunshine...all burn...no worry...
ReplyDeleteIsn't it great? There was a time when salmonella and smog hadn't been invented. I love that part. There was actually a time when cholesterol hadn't been invented yet. Thanks Glenn for a trek through time to a better day
ReplyDeleteWe use a cast iron frying pan today. Interesting how you aimed for the fish taking into account how light changed direction when it went through the surface of water.
ReplyDeleteLovely word work bringing the moments alive.
ReplyDeleteThe poem arouses some curiosity about the bygone pre-tension days. A lovely read.
ReplyDeleteI always enjoy tales of your youth, Glenn, and this one hit all the senses. You didn't hold back on teh verb flexing, which made it a thrilling read. I really loved:
ReplyDelete'...massaging the steepness
like a polished gigolo,
sieving the sweet, cold
creek water, flexing my kidneys,
flushing my cramping molecules
with rushing ice-cubed swallows';
and
'...their brightly colored sides blackening in
bacon grease, bubbling to a charred crackle, its
meat pope-white in the golden light, fin deep in
the cast iron frying pan'.
This is just tremendous. I'm not even going to pick a favourite line, but "flesh rainbows" is up there as an image. You have a way of making me feel nostalgic for something I've never experienced. I might have said that before, but I mean it.
ReplyDeleteIntere4sting using a rifle to catch fish. I love all the detail in this, this time spent with your grandfather, your youth. You rarely let us in and this was a nice look. I don't eat fish myself but it sounds like you had an excellent meal out there in the wild.
ReplyDeleterushing ice-cubed swallows,
ReplyDeletesun spanked my brain
meat pope-white
Love your words!
Oh my ---- you've taken me as a side kick with you on this wonderful outing! Although I'm not sure about fishing with a gun/rifle? But the description here swallows me into the scene....I can smell the fish frying up in that cast iron pan! Well done! :) You are a mighty flexer of verbs! :)
ReplyDeleteYour blog was absolutely fantastic! Great deal of great information & this can be useful some or maybe the other way.
ReplyDeleteKeep updating your blog,anticipating to get more detailed contents.
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