In the weeds
From my kitchen window I can see a small lake. Technically not a lake. Rather a lagoon open to the sea. And that’s what makes it special because from what I can learn that lagoon is full of eels. So much so that our local museum has a whole section related to the artifacts of when people went out on the ice with spears. We no longer have that ice. I have never seen anyone standing on the shoreline trying to spear a wiggly. But I did watch a video dating back to five or six centuries ago when the eel was a valuable commodity on the average table. People ate eels. People caught eels. In small traps mainly. And now I wonder, am I missing out on something? Should I be down on the stairs near the shoreline trying to catch my supper? Not likely. I have never developed a taste for the beast although I’ve watched relatives who fried them up with glee almost and I’ve learned a little bit about the complicated lifespan. Better to let the eel keep its place in nature without my interference. I will watch the lawn just in case one of them decides to walk about. I learned that from my language exercises about fish that walk on the lawn. Anything is possible you know. What I would like is that same body of water to be filled with trout. I like trout although I haven’t gone fishing for those in the better part of a lifetime either. We have a number of very small rivers around here and when I was younger I would go after supper with a line and catch a couple. At a different time in my life I guess. But getting back to that body of water. Too small for large boats. A lower kayak would fit perfectly.
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