“Nice
one!” Lindy Beth clapped her hands. “Think he goes
about three pounds?”
“At least. Only it’s a she.”
“How do you know it’s a girl?”
“Cause her belly’s fat with eggs...see?” He
pointed to the yellow underside of the catfish. It was swollen
with roe. “This fish be a sow.”
Lindy Beth ran her hand over her own swollen belly. “I guess
that means I’m your sow, Gator.”
He chuckled. “I reckon so.”
The catfish opened its mouth and belched at him.
“Eww,” Lindy Beth said. “Why is she burping
at you like that?”
“She’s supposed to. That’s what they do--they
curse ya, hoping you’ll let ‘em go. It’s one
of them defense mechanisms, kinda like this sharp spine on her
back.”
“That’s scary.”
“Yep. Now grab me the needle-nose pliers out of the tackle
box. She swallowed the hook deep.”
She handed him the pliers. With fish in one hand and pliers in
the other, Gator followed the line into the fish’s mouth
and tried to dislodge the hook.
“Damn. She keeps closing her mouth when I try to slip the
pliers in. Here. Hold her for me, will ya?”
The fish flapped its tail and belched again.
“Don’t make me hold her, Gator! You know I don’t
like that.”
“Now don’t get all squeamish on me. Just slip your
hand under her belly and keep your thumb tucked under that spine
on her back so she can’t stick us.”
Pouting, Lindy Beth reached for the fish. She shivered once it
rested on her palm. “Okay. Now what?”
“Hold her tail still with your other hand.”
Lindy Beth grabbed the tail, and Gator pulled the lower lip of
the fish down to open its mouth. The fish pumped its gills, thrashed,
and belched louder than before. Lindy Beth screamed and jerked
the fish.
“Goddammit!” Gator pulled his hand away and threw
the pliers into the mud. The erect spine of the fish had penetrated
his palm. “Now you’ve done poisoned me. I’ll
get infection from her poison!”
Lindy Beth dropped the fish onto the grass and started to cry.
“I’ll suck it out,” she said, reaching for his
injured hand.
“You can’t.” He turned away from her. “It’s
too late. Once she’s got her poison in you, you can’t
get it out.” He rubbed his stinging palm on his overalls,
then grabbed the catfish and rammed the pliers down its throat
until they caught hold of the treble hook. He yanked repeatedly,
the fish belching and sputtering slimy blood onto his hand. The
hook broke just below the eyelet. “Damn. Wasted a good hook
on her.” He looked at Lindy Beth. “I wish I’d
never caught her--sow’s so full of eggs she’ll taste
like shit anyway. The meat gets too soft.”
|
