Nothing Better To Do - a novel in stories - Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

It was raining. That's why Harry chose that unlikely spot where the by-pass crosses the Little Miami River. It didn't look, even to Harry's untrained eye, like an ideal place to catch fish. But he had sought the shelter of the over-pass as he fished for the first time as an adult.

The Little Miami winds its way back and forth across the bike paths and back roads of Serena on its way to join its meandering bigger brother in Dayton. It was summer and the river was densely populated with suckers, perch, bluegills, large and small mouth bass and the occasional pickerel. But what did Harry know..?

One day he had gone shopping in the Wal-mart in town. As he entered, he noticed that there was some kind of special promotion going on in the front of the store. A small crowd had gathered around a salesman from the Zebco Company, who was demonstrating fishing equipment. Harry joined the group and quietly watched for a few minutes, before wandering about, looking for whatever it was that he had come there for.

When Harry passed again, on his way to check out, the crowd had dispersed and the salesman was standing there alone by his display, probably hoping that someone like Harry would come along. Harry stopped and picked up one of the clear plastic packages and began to examine it. It seemed to have everything one would need to get started fishing right away, everything but the license, that is. There was a two piece fiberglass rod, a spin-casting reel with 8 lb. test line and an assortment of hooks, bobbers and lures.

Harry remarked on the completeness of the package and inquired about the price. They were giving a two dollar discount as part of their promotion. The whole thing came to about twelve bucks. He was hooked.

"I suppose I'll need a license. How do I go about getting one?"

"Oh they sell them just about everywhere. I think you can get one down Main Street at the bait shop. Here, take one of these," the salesman said as he handed Harry something that seemed like a large rolled up poster. "It's a complementary fish chart."

It was a Saturday afternoon. Harry put the fishing equipment into the wagon and walked down Main to get a license. He figured he'd go fishing first thing in the morning. He'd heard somewhere that shortly after sunrise and shortly before sunset were the best times.

When Harry got up early the next morning, it was raining lightly. Maybe the rain will make the fish hungry, he hoped, his enthusiasm not dampened one bit as he parked in a lot near the bike path. He knew the trail came very close to the river just at the point where it passed under the by-pass. The river flowed fast in that stretch, and there were no weeds for the fish to hide in, but he figured it would have to do for the time being. Perhaps some fish would pass by and see his lure and decide to give it a bite. At least he would get to practice his casting. When he had tried it in the back yard, he'd kept getting snagged various obstacles such as the tree, the fence, the barbecue, the lawn chairs. Jenny had a fit.

He chose a lure which was an imitation of the popular "Red Devil" which even Harry had heard of. It was red with a curved white stripe on one side and silver colored on the other. Harry had seen people fishing with these many years before. The word was that when all else failed, the Red Devil would come through for you. Based on the conditions at hand, he decided to go right to it.

Harry fished for about an hour without even one strike. He was pretty sure that he wasn't going to catch a thing. He could just picture himself coming back to the house empty handed and having to face Jenny, who had been less than enthusiastic about this project from the moment he walked in with my newly acquired equipment and hung his fish poster in the living room. But the rain seemed to be letting up, so he decided to stick it out awhile longer.

A few casts later, he felt something hit his lure just as he started to reel in. It didn't put up much of a fight, but he was pretty sure that it was a living creature, as opposed to an old boot or a tire. He was pretty excited. He could hardly wait to get it out of the water to see what it was.

Well, what it was was pretty darn scary. It was long and slender with shiny green scales. It had a long snout and sharp teeth. It was one of the most vicious looking creatures Harry had ever seen. Whatever it was, he couldn't wait to get it home and show it to Jenny and the kids.

When he got back, they were all still asleep. Jenny awoke and came into the living room to find Harry holding the fish up to the chart, trying to figure out what to call it. The closest thing on the chart was called a Great Northern Pike. The colors weren't exactly right, but the shape was the same.

"Why don't you call your friend Morely and ask him?" my wife said. "I seem to recall Sue telling me that Morely used to fish."

"Right! That's right, he does fish." Harry looked at his watch. "They'll be in church right now. I'll have to wait."

Morely Stevens always had a different way of looking at things. He had grown up on a farm outside of town. Harry had been aware that he fished, but he had decided to try his hand at it before mentioning it to him, because he knew Morely would kid him about being from the city and all the usual stuff that would go along with that. But since Harry had caught this prize of a fish, he figured it would be safe to let him know that he had become a fisherman. Harry waited until he figured they were back from church, then he called. Morely answered.

"Morely, it's Harry. Guess what, I went fishing this morning and I caught a Great Northern Pike." Harry's excitement was obvious.

"A Great Northern? Around here? How big is it?"

"Fourteen inches," Harry told him, rounding up from thirteen and a quarter.

"If that's a Great Northern, it must be a baby. I've never heard of anyone catching one around here. I thought they only had them in places like Minnesota. I'll be right over to take a look at it."

While they were waiting, Harry had Jenny take a Polaroid of him in the back yard, holding up his catch. It was starting to feel smaller since he had talked to Morely.

Morely laughed when he saw the fish. "That's a pickerel."

"Oh, they don't have pickerel on my chart," Harry explained. "Can you eat pickerel?"

"Yeah, they're edible, but most folks don't bother because they have so many tiny bones."

Despite his amusement at Harry's novice behavior, Morely's interest was now aroused. "Let me know the next time you're going to go fishing, I'll go with you. There's some pretty good bass fishing around here, if you know where to go. I'll show you."

The next Saturday night Jenny and Harry were visiting over at Morely and Sue's. Harry asked Morely if he wanted to go fishing in the morning.

"Morely can't go fishing," Sue said. "He hasn't renewed his license."

Sue was probably a tad under five feet tall and Morely was about six-two, yet she could snap the whip and make him dance like a trained bear. But every once in awhile, Morely would get ornery and insist on having his own way. Usually, it would cost him in the end.

"That ain't no big deal. In all my years of hunting and fishing, I ain't never once run into a game warden," he said.

"With your luck, the first time you go fishing without a license will be the first time you see one," she whined.

Then Morely hatched this hair-brained scheme. He would dress in the kind of clothing you would not normally wear to go fishing, "My Sunday goin' to church clothes," he said. "If I hear a game warden approaching through the woods, I'll toss my gear into the water and pretend that I'm just standing there, enjoying the view."

"Oh brother, Morely. I'm warning you, if you get arrested, I'm not bailing you out," Sue said.

The next morning Morely showed Harry where to fish. He took him to a spot up river from where he had first gone. The river was wider and slower and very weedy along the banks.
Morely was an old hand at it. First he showed Harry how to use a surface plug, how to cast it out, stop and wait then jerk, reel and stop, jerk, reel and stop, making it look as if the plug is some kind of wounded animal that fell into the water.

They caught about a half-dozen good-size large mouth bass apiece. Each time, a fish would take the plug, it would break water, jumping into the air about two or three feet, then put up a hell of a fight while being reeled in. After that, they agreed to fish together on a regular basis.

When they got back to Morely's house, Sue was still mad. She made Morely promise to get a license the next day.

A few days later, Morely called Harry. It was early evening. Sue was at work. She worked the evening shift as a nurse at Memorial Hospital. "You want to go fishing?"

"Sure." After that last experience, Harry didn't think he'd ever get enough of fishing.

"Pick me up! Sue's got the car and the battery in my truck has been giving me trouble."

When Harry got to Morely's place, he was waiting outside, dressed in his slacks and raincoat, again.

"What's with the outfit? Didn't you get a license?"

"Never got around to it."

"What are you going to tell Sue, when she comes home and finds the refrigerator full of fish?"

"Oh, I told her I already got a license. I'll pick one up, tomorrow."

They went back to the same place where they had had such good luck the first time. This time, they spread out a bit. Morely was a couple hundred feet off to Harry's left in a wooded section, fishing from the river bank. Harry had waded into the weeds in a more open area. Every now and then they would call out to each other.

After awhile, Harry thought he heard two voices in conversation coming from the direction where Morely was fishing. He stopped casting and listened.

He could hear Morely's voice. "You mean this license is expired?" he said to someone.

"I'm going to have to write you a summons," the other voice said.

After a few minutes, Harry heard someone coming in his direction. It was a game warden, in uniform. He was very polite, even though Harry was sure he suspected that he didn't have a license, either. Harry showed him his license, then packed up his gear and went over to where Morely was.

"What are you going to tell Sue?"

"Hell, I ain't gonna tell her about it. I'm sure I can talk my way out of this when I get before the judge," he said, smiling and obviously confident that he would be able to do just that.

Morely looked at the ticket to see when he had to go to court. "Orem Paige," he said.

"What did you say?"

"Would you believe it? The game warden's name is Orem Paige. Must be Orel Paige's brother." Morely was shaking his head.

"What happened to your plan? I thought you were going to throw you rod into the river."

"He was so quiet sneakin' through the woods, he crept up right behind me, before I even knew he was there."

When Morely went to court, his plea of being a poor retired farmer and a veteran of the Korean Conflict did not impress the judge. He was fined twenty-five dollars.

Morely had been so confident that he would beat the case, that he had not brought any money with him. He told the judge he had to go back to his house and get his ATM card, then go to a cash machine and get the money and return.

"Until such time as you return to this court to pay the fine, I am remanding you to the custody of Game Warden Paige. He will accompany you to your house and to the bank and back here."

Orem Paige waited politely on the porch of Morely's house, but insisted that he leave the front door ajar while he was inside getting his bank card.

"Morely, who is that man?" Sue asked.

"Game Warden Orem Paige, ma'am," he introduced himself.

"Oh no, Morely. You lied to me about the license didn't you?"

"Where's my ATM card at?" he asked.

"How much, Morely?"

"Twenty-five dollars," he said, meekly.

Sue was furious. "How much does a fishing license cost?"

Orem Paige answered for him, "Ten dollars, ma'am."

"I would say I hope you've learned your lesson, but I know you haven't. Take an extra ten dollars out of the bank while you're at it and get a license as soon as you leave the courthouse."
Morely got his license. After that he was well behaved as a trained bear.

Sue eventually cooled down and Harry and Morely had a few laughs over at the Blue Moon, recalling how Morely got caught by Orem Paige and then again by Sue. They would come to learn from Hank and Phil that Orem Paige was legendary around Greene County. Rumor had it that he once wrote up his own brother for jacking a deer.

Harry got to be quite the fisherman. As summer wore on, he acquired all the trappings that go along with the sport, the acumen, the equipment, and the stories.

One day he was fishing by himself. He had decided to try a new spot. He was standing on a bridge casting out into the open water of Caesar Creek Lake. He was using a surface plug called a Jitterbug. It had been his most productive bass lure, but on this day, he wasn't having any luck at all. He decided to try some long casts over toward the shore of the lake, where the trees were hanging over the weeds. He was leery of doing this, because he was afraid of getting tangled in the weeds and losing his expensive lure.

He tried a couple casts, but he didn't quite reach the spot he had in mind. He tried again, harder this time. The lure went over a tree branch and the line got tangled, stopping the lure short, about three feet above the water. Just as the lure came to an abrupt stop, the biggest bass Harry ever saw, leaped out of the water and took it in his mouth.

He tried to reel in, but the line was hopelessly tangled. He stood there, helpless, as the fish fought furiously to free itself. Finally, it got loose, leaving his Jitterbug dangling in the tree.
The next day, in the Blue Moon, when Harry told Morely, Phil and Hank what had happened, they all hooted.

"Morely's got him telling fish stories like an old-timer," Hank laughed. "Next thing you know, he'll be giving us his recipe for steamed bass and cheese grits.

"I can't stand grits," Kresge protested.