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I was too busy trying to put an elk-hair caddis
fly on a size 16 just beyond that big smooth rock on Lewis Creek. I
know there's a big rainbow trout in that hole there, you see, and
there is nothing more important, on a June morning like this one,
than enticing that big rascal into delivering himself to my waiting
hands.
But Doc noticed that Dud had laid his fly rod
down in the bushes and was doing strange things with his hands.
Finally, Doc got my attention, pointed to Dud, and we both stopped
fishing and walked over to see what our longtime pal was up to.
Dud would look around in the air, then make a
one-handed grab at the air. After several grabs, he'd take two
fingers of his other hand, put them in his clenched fist and wiggle
around. Then he'd smile and open his fist and look in the air again.
Doc and I looked silently at each other, wondering how long it would
take from our day of fishing to get Dud delivered to the nervous
ward in the city.
"Dud," said Doc, "how's the fishing?"
"Huh? Oh, hi. Not fishing right now, Doc.
Experimenting."
"Experimenting?" I said. Of course, I said this
automatically, forgetting for a moment how time-consuming it could
be to start Dud explaining things of a scientific nature.
"Natural selection," Dud said, proudly.
"Survival of the fittest. Yes, I decided to spend my morning in
Darwinian pursuits, making the world a safer place for mankind."
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Doc looked at me. "He's talking like that again," he said.
"Well, Doc," said Dud, "you, of all people,
should be able to appreciate what I'm doing. After all, you're a man
of science and a healer. I'm going to rid the world of dangerous
diseases. Observe."
Then Dud made another grab at the air, and this
time we could see he was snatching a mosquito out of the air. Again
he used his other hand to do something to the mosquito, and then he
released it.
"I'm pulling out their drillers," Dud said. "I
figgered if I pull out enough drillers, then sooner or later two
drillerless mosquitoes will get married and have pups and then we'll
have a family of drillerless mosquitoes here on Lewis Creek. Without
drillers, they won't be able to pass along yellow fever or malaria
to fishermen."
Doc looked at him in a strange way. "Dud,
there's never been anyone get malaria from these Lewis Creek
mosquitoes."
"See?" Dud said, brightly. "It's already
working."
[Slim Randles]
Brought to you by "The Long Dark." Check it out
at www.slimrandles.com.
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