Each of us had our own jobs, which ranged from Dewey's
transferring manure from the dairy to people's yards, through Bert's
obsession with weeding his yard, to Doc's trying to keep us healthy.
Herb Collins came in that morning. Herb is a businessman, not too
excited about sports, but keen on being one of the guys. He also
claims to be borderline psychic. We always thought he was a little
strange on that account.
Until that summer morning.
"Politics going along fine, are they?" Herb asked the quiet
Guys nodded and murmured.
Heads shook, still with the faraway look in the eyes.
"It's the Lunker, isn't it?" Herb asked.
All heads perked up, and we looked at each other with that sudden
recognition. Yes, it was the Lunker, that giant trout down in his
pool in Lewis Creek.
Doc was the first to recognize that Herb was right. "What do you
think, guys ... tomorrow morning?"
[to top of second
"I'll bring coffee," said Dud.
"I'm going to catch him," Dewey said.
"No worms, Dewey. Barbless flies only."
"I'm going to try a new fly," Dud said. "Tied some up after I saw
them in the magazine. Supposed to be deadly on trout."
"I'm glad you're going, Dud," Doc said. "I'll need a witness when
I pull him in."
The Lunker rose close to a couple of the flies the next day, and
some smaller trout fell for them and were quickly released. The
Lunker is still under that big pile of rocks on the bottom of Lewis
And that's not a bad thing. Dreams are good.
[Text from file received from Slim Randles]
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