When I was a boy ... Part 2 - We Arrive

The man turned from the river and walked back to his car that was sitting in the shade of the trees a few yards away. The boy lingered, hoping to see a fish jump in the smooth water flowing by, then he too turned back to the car. Looking beyond the car the boy saw a cloud of insects dancing their mating rituals in the sun above the cornfield. He could hear their faint buzz, like a carrier wave for the birds singing in the trees around them. He wiped the sweat from his face and swallowed, tasting the dust and the pollen from the corn tassels. The air was so still the stiff green leaves of the corn stalks weren't even making a sound by rubbing together. And, yet once in a while faint crackle came from the field. The heat and humidity made the corn grow -- you could hear it.

The man had opened the rear door of the car and was taking out the minnow buckets. He looked back at the boy saying, "Let's get these in the water." The boy grinned and reached for one of the buckets. "Let me get them down the bank first", his father said, picking up the two metal buckets. Father and son walked to where the bank dropped off to river level some six-feet below. The man peered over the edge looking for an easy way down. He skirted the bank a few yards to his right, knocking aside nettle plants as tall as he was with the buckets. At the bank edge again, he found a place where run-off had almost cut steps into the sandy soil. As he made his way down, he kicked the steps deeper and in a few seconds stood on the gravel bar below. The boy waited at the top and then followed using the steps. At the bottom the man handed him one of the buckets without a word and started across the rocks and sand toward the river.

Upstream to their left the gravel had poked out into the river making the water ripple as it went over the stones. "Let's put these above the riffle," the man said as he walked. The boy, holding the bucket in both hands in front of him, followed. The wire handle dug into his palms. He stopped to put the bucket down, shaking his hands and changing his grip. The man turned, looking back briefly then continued walking. The boy followed. At the water's edge the man pulled the liner from his bucket and plunged it into the river, wiggling it, seating it in the sand and gravel of the stream bed. He took the bucket from the boy and did the same then set the outer buckets still full of water on top of each liner to hold them in the current. "That should keep 'em alive until we need 'em", he said.

Again they looked across the water around them. Upstream the water was wide and looked shallow. At the point they were standing ,the gravel bar forced the water toward the far bank and the stream narrowed. Against that bank the current was clearly faster. Erosion had toppled a tree there. Its roots still clung to the shore, but the trunk lay parallel to the river. Half its branches, with their dead brown leaves, felt their way over the bank and disappeared under the water.

"Good place to put some poles there," the man said nodding toward the fallen tree. Just then a fish jumped among the branches. "What'd I tell you?". The boy smiled up at him. They turned and started back towards the car to get the poles.

[I can see this like yesterday, except for the tears in my eyes when I think about it. I miss that old man.]