Silent Reverence

The river looked like tea; clear but stained a deep amber from the minerals in the eastern North Carolina soil and the tannins from decomposing leaves.  There was very little sediment, making it easy to spot fish.  Low water levels pulled the canoe down stream slowly, allowing us to keep the bow positioned for casting with an occcasional draw stroke.  I already know what you’re thinking.  Fresh water fishing on small rivers doesn’t take much skill.  You’d be correct.  This trip wasn’t about bringing home dinner or bragging about trophy fish.  This was just a quiet afternoon on the water with my son before fall sports and school started devouring blocks on the calendar.  I’ve fished this river more times than I can count and knew that this time of year would produce the one variable that every kid hopes for on the water;  hungry fish.  I was right.  Between the two of us, we landed 44 fish (and yes, we counted every single one) in a couple hours with the last one being just as much fun as the first.

The mid-day sun was directly overhead for most of the float, illuminating our stretch of river like a grand theater.  Beams of sunlight pierced through the canopy of trees along the banks, projecting intricate cucoloris shadows that danced across the water with the breeze.  Like a scene change, we drifted out of the shade just as my son reaches down to release a redbreast sunfish.  The dark riverbank drapes across the background like a velvet curtain while a single spotlight of sun follows the fish.  The mosaic of colorful scales reflecting light like a vibrant costume.  With a graceful bow, the fish takes it’s cue and exits stage left as an audience of two fishermen sit in silent reverence.