The motions of laying down my fishing pole sapped my remaining strength. I was numb. By sheer force of will, I rose and trudged up the river bank to get the net from our car, such a simple act to save a marriage.
When I returned, toting the net on my shoulder, Mike had already landed his fish. I found the victor crouched in the sand, eyeing his catch, a ten-pound carp, a giant in comparison to the catfish we caught earlier that evening.
Using the front of his t-shirt to wipe his face, Mike then turned to me. He had finally solved the mystery, “Look! It’s a carp!”
I smiled and nodded as if I did not know.
"That's what I needed," he grinned, pointing to the net.
"Obviously not," I shrugged, studying Mike’s first carp.
We marveled at how beautiful it was. Oklahoma’s blasting summer heat had not yet arrived. By late summer the heat would stress every living creature, including humans, but more important to fishermen, the fish. This carp, taken early in the season, was still unscarred and healthy after its winter rest.
For Mike his catch, and I must say it was rather large for a fish caught in those waters, was proof of how far his confidence and skills had come since our dream date years before even though, in this case, he was clueless what he had hooked.
After watching Mike watching his carp, I could not bear to shake him into reality by sharing the awful truth. We were admiring a slimy wad of trash fish.
Mike's fish was more than thirty inches in length. Exhausted from the fight, the fish lay hardly moving making it easier to take in its appearance. A carp like this one, out of the water, lying on its side, was always disturbing to me.
Carp would be more beautiful were it not for the mouth. Open no more than the width of a quarter, its mouth edged by thick, pale pink lips, one pudgy whisker on each side of what must be called its nostrils, it appeared to be malformed in some way, but all carp look that way.
Tell me how, with a mouth so small, can a carp have a body so big? This carp had a long, beautiful, golden body, torpedo-shaped, with scales the size of a quarter.
Mike congratulated himself and relished his trophy, more glorious since I had nothing to do with it. He had landed his carp without me and without the net.
Later that day, I performed a selfless act of devotion by starting a pan of braised carp. Mike insisted we bring the thing home with us. He cleaned and dressed it in earnest expectation I would cook it, and he would eat it. He spent over an hour cleaning it. Even after a vinegar and later a bleach scrubbing, the garage stunk for a week. Carp have earned their reputation.
I knew I was not likely to make braised carp ever again, but the finished product was so unusually pretty and unbelievably delicious, I wrote down my recipe in spite of myself.
As it turns out I never got the chance to use the recipe again, because to this day we have not caught another carp of that size, and neither are we likely to. We steer clear of any water looks like it might have carp.
Eventually, Mike learned the truth about carp all on his own. Mike is a sharp guy with a pointed wit. I think it was no accident he selected this recipe to be my first blog post. I also think I need to stuff my recipe box with recipes and accompanying stories that show us having a little more class than to cook trash.
~the end~
Links I Like
The Oklahoma Department of Wildlife website is filled with important information for any fisherman. Even better, they have fascinating short videos of Oklahoma fishes and how they behave in their native habitats, in this case, some of the beautiful,crystal clear waters of Oklahoma streams. I bet you can't watch just one.
On this page you can see how fun the ODWS really is, well, I can anyway. So much information! Scroll down and on the right, click on the state fishing records. The gentleman in the photo holds a largemouth bass. I cannot imagine him muscling that fish to the bank. Largemouth are fun to catch. They jump out of the water typically and twist at the same time. On one particular day, Mike and I were fishing for largemouth, and we had the best luck. The bass were striking hard that day, beautiful, clear skies, a light southerly breeze. The trouble came when I got tickled that we could not get one into the boat. The fish would jump and twist the hook clean out of its mouth. Must have happened six or eight times. I did manage to swing one into the boat where it knocked out the hook and took a dancing leap right back into the water. That was when I started to laugh nonstop. Mike got so mad at me he threatened to lay into me with an oar. That only made me laugh harder. I really love that man so much. I managed to pull it together long enough to get one into the boat, but that was all. I realized as he unhooked my fish, I was not likely to see him unhook one of my fish for a long time. Next time we went fishing for largemouth, we used bigger hooks, but we never got a bite.
Finally, I had a picture of Mike and me from about the time we were at our fishing peak. I cannot get the picture to upload to this page.
So frustrating! I can tell you this, writing is easy, but blogging is a bugger. I may be able to post the picture later. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed the story. Next time you get "Aunt Marcie's Pea Salad." Yummy! Bye for now.
If you have a minute I would appreciate your comment in the box below.
Finally, I had a picture of Mike and me from about the time we were at our fishing peak. I cannot get the picture to upload to this page.
So frustrating! I can tell you this, writing is easy, but blogging is a bugger. I may be able to post the picture later. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed the story. Next time you get "Aunt Marcie's Pea Salad." Yummy! Bye for now.
If you have a minute I would appreciate your comment in the box below.
