Jimmy’s First Fish

By STIX DOUGLAS



One of my earliest memories began on a hot summer day in the southern hills of Missouri just outside the Jefferson County line near a town called Koester Springs:



It was a long drive to my mothers Aunt Mammies, on a very dusty gravel/ dirt road that ran threw a narrow valley for more than a few miles. There were only a few houses along the way spaced at what seemed like a mile or so apart. Log cabins, old ones, put up before the Great Depression, were nestled between the trees that had grown around there. The little homes were placed in such a way as to make it look almost magical to me.



There were natural springs flowing up through the ground and the crystal clear water had a trough like box that was made of concrete collecting it that would hold several hundred gallons before it was routed through a channel ending in some vegetation. I learned this was called water crest, a plant that only grows in fresh water under those conditions, convincing me even further that this was a special place. There was a long handled metal cup for anyone to dip in and drink the pureness of natures own spring water.



As I stated, it was during the summer; the cloud of the gravel road would leave a trail of lingering dust if you followed someone, causing you to slow a bit and stay further behind. Once we got to Aunt Mammies there was a very wide and shallow creek to cross. This was before there were many formal bridges so they had a place to cross the creek upstream from the house with a small make shift double log and rough cut lumber bridge you could walk across with out too much fear of falling but without the luxury of a handrail.



It seemed that we had passed Mammies house while on the road, but then circled back across the stream onto the other side and kind of back track to park in what I thought was the grass.



The grass grew on this south facing hillside and seemed to bring a comfortable carpet of greens to walk on. It was mowed only with a manual grass mower; the old push type without a gas or electric engine. The house was on a steep hill and what I remember was a deepened water hole in the spring fed creek made of solid stone or rock that had been cut out by the years of water running up over it. The impression wasn’t really all that large but the bank then dropped off a few feet to the water level.



We had come to Aunt Mammies for a family gathering and a dinner after church. It was a festive like event. And everyone seemed to be in the best of spirits.



I hadn’t been there long and was somewhat intrigued with the water. The sun was shining and reflecting onto the rock bank which I noticed when we drove up.. I had asked it there might be any fish in it.



Trying to help with a boy’s imagination and I suspect to keep me from being underfoot the relatives suggested that I go fishing before we ate. Not knowing much about fishing, and not having seen too many fishing poles in my life at that point other than the older cane poles I began to look around for something to fish with. I knew I needed some string and was given something like kite string to use.



I was offered bread and told to make dough balls. I had no way of keeping the bait balls on the sting so another search began looking for a hook. What was found to use was a baby diaper pin. A rather large one too I might add. It was attached to the end of the string and I was all too happy to try my fancy rig out.



I asked for assurance that if I caught any fish would the ladies would fix it for the dinner and was convinced that I they would. Little did they know the determination and fixation of this little boy, this was one instance of many in underestimating my abilities.



I was happy, and going fishing. I had lay down on the bank of the creek and looked down into the crystal clean and pure water. I could easily see that there was at least one fish in there. One VERY BIG fish.



After several attempts with the bait falling off I ran out of the dough ball bait, and was still determined to fish, just tossing the hook it by itself. With the sun shining, the reflection on the water, and my tireless concentration, I believe I had more than caught the attention of this fish and had aggravated it into striking.



Once the fish attacked I had a prize. I was ecstatic. I ran up the hill to show off my catch. The women who had all dismissed me with mirth were all in shock.. None of them had thought it was possible and the fish was quickly removed from the hook and returned to the water from where I caught it.



I was confused and upset until I had to have it explained to me by my mother later that the fish I caught was like a family pet, they were aware of it and had been for a very long time. No one had expected such a little boy with such makeshift equipment to land the catch.



To me it is something more than one of my first memories it was my first test of character. Having managed it on my own I felt I had accomplished something others do at a much older age, an understanding of my power. The details of a memory fades but the thought and the catch is still fresh in my mind…No other fishing story could top that first fish.