Sucker fishing

 It was mid-March, and the sucker fish were running in county streams. I was 12 when I first tried to catch some, so I was armed with waders, a three-pronged spear, a lantern, and a burlap bag. I spent some weekends at my aunt and uncle's place, where the saying a one-traffic-light town was very true. My cousin Peter was two years older than me and would show me how to catch these elusive fish, and believe me, it wasn't an experience I cared to repeat. So on a cold March night he drove us down country roads, and I feared we'd never find our way back. We finally stopped and parked beside a stream with angry currents and the roar of an angry beast ready to swallow me up. Peter showed me how to put on the waders, which made me feel like a giant rubber glove from neck to feet. He handed me my spear and lantern, lit the lantern, and told me to put the burlap bag across my shoulders like my newspaper delivery bag. Ok, he said, just follow me and walk slowly like I could do anything differently. Hold your lantern a couple of feet above the water, and you'll see the shadow of the fish, and when you do, spear it. When you get one, put it in the bag and move on. Will we eat these fish I asked and he told me no they tasted awful but made for great fietilzer so try and fill your bag.geared up and redy to go I stepped into the cold water and followed my cousin. It didn't take long, and I saw him put a fish into his bag and yell, "They're on the run, cuz get you some." I'll admit the thought of getting one was overwhelming, but I moved on, and without warning I felt a fish rub against my waders, so with high expectations I threw my spear and immediately felt the rush of frigid water fill my waders. Yep, I speared my waders and lost my balance as the current took hold, and within seconds I was bobbing up and down in the stream, getting farther away from my cousin, who had no idea I was being swept away to who knows where. I saw his lantern coming towards me and pulling me to the bank where I lay freezing to death. Peter thought fast and pulled off my mangled waders and retrieved a blanket from the car and wrapped me up like a burrito as my teeth chattered and my lips turned a shade of blue.So did you get the fish? He asked me with a grin. He got me into the car and turned on the heat as I slowly warmed up and my teeth quit chattering. Country folks love to hear a good story, especially when it's true, and Peter was already thinking about how he'd spin my misfortune into a laughing fit for anyone who would listen. And they listened. The next morning, as we walked the few short steps to the town's only diner, we entered to clapping and laughter all around. Hey, wader boy! One man shouted. Spear any more waders? Another chimed in. Even the cook looked out the serving window and asked if I was going out again that night. Like most stories, mine was set aside for another to be told, and a few days later Peter and I headed to the stream and geared up. I ended up filling my bag with sucker fish and never once speared my waders. Back at the diner the next morning, another round of remarks changed from laughing to congratulations. Peter and I went sucker fishing quite a few times after that fateful night, and as we unloaded our gear, he made sure I got the waders that were duct-taped over the spear marks that made me smile and remember always.   

Mike  2026