There is a Season for Fishing

And it's over. In a good way.

We've gone a couple times recently, but haven't had great success. One time we stayed an extra hour, until Mike couldn't even see his bobber, because the fish were nibbling and he just HAD to catch one. And the one he just barely caught before we left happened to be a tiny bluegill.

Mike didn't want to end with only having caught bluegill, so we went again today. The fish were jumping out of the water all morning, but never even nibbling. Mike finally moved to a different spot and could see trout swimming all around his worm. It started to get hot, and we were starting to get bored. Right when I turned to start packing up, Mike caught his first rainbow trout of the season! Woo! We're pretty sure he killed it-the stupid fish swallowed the hook and kept writhing around, spraying blood all over us, so we just dropped it back. And it floated to the reeds and lay still. We (I) named him Jim. Jim's friend came over to look for him... But, before we left, Jim wasn't in the reeds. He went somewhere else to die.

Oh, and we can't finish up the fishing season without mentioning Moby Dick. There really was a giant white fish that we would sometimes see swimming around, and then would disappear. Next year, Moby. Next year.