How did discussion of a death-defying
struggle move to talk of chicken as bait?
Many men went fishing this
year on Father's Day. It's the one
day of the year when criticism of
such activities is illegal.
At a quiet spot up the BroadkiU
River, away from a mob of boats
kept inside Roosevelt Inlet by a
stiff northwest wind stinking up
the waves of Delaware Bay, two
of us fished a narrow section of
water.
• Bounded on the south by the
Great Marsh and on the northby
Beach Plum Island, we anchored
on the "marsla side of the rioter in
about six feet of water. We fished
the outgoing tide, watched herons
working the edges, and let moving
shadows pull our eyes to ospreys
flying in the blue above carrying
glistening fish securely in their ra-
zor-sharp talons.
One line, baited with a fatmin-
now striped with black and yel-
low, bent under the weight of a 17
inch flounder that later produced
thick filets from top and bottom.
Fifteen minutes later, the bounty
of the Broadkill yielded again
when another flounder swallowed
a four inch strip of fresh squid,
hooked itself securely and came
aboard to join us on the boai.
On Tuesday morning, standing
amidst the overflowing cardboard
boxes, piles of laundered red work
aprons, and delivery men and em-
ployees processing food for the
shelves of Lloyd's IGA in :the
back room, I bragged about the
Broadkill flounder. There's a
plaque on the wall back tfiere that
attests to Lloyd's fishing ability,
especially inthe freshwater arena.
I knew there would be a good
audience for a fishing story but
had no idea where this conversa-
tion would eventually take me,
"Yep," I said, my foot propped
casually on a brown carton full of
grocery circulars, "I had a top and
bottom rig baited up with a fat
minnow on the bottom hook and a
strip of squid on the top hook.
Suddenly I saw the rod bend over
with the weight of a fish that judg-
ing by the fight that ensued I knew
must have been of demonic pro-
portions."
(Flounder of course don't usual-
ly put up much of a fight but I
- hadWt yet announced what kind
of fish was on.)
The audience listened with keen
interest as I discussed the reeling
in of the leviathon hooked up at
the other end: how we struggled
against the tide, one of us with the
net, the other with the rod, barely
able to converse above the howl-
ing of the ruthless northwest wind
to coordinate our conquest, never
knowing what great adversity
might arise from the Great Marsh
- what creature, what horde of
swarming, lethal insects - to fur-
ther thwart our efforts.
"And then," I said, allowing my
voice to grow softer to bring the
audience nearer, "our quarry came
close enough to the surface for us
to catch our first glimpse. Our
eyes popped..." and I paused to"
add further drama.
BAREFOOTIN'
Dennis Forney
I looked up to Dottle Purcell,
Lloyd's wife, sitting just inside
the small, back office. I knew she
was dying to know. When I
paused at t.he very height of the
story, she couldn't hold back.
"What kind-of bait did you say
you were using?"
Bait, I thought? Here I am spin-
ning a tale of high drama on the
dangerous waters of the Broadkill,
a tale of man against fish, a tale
whose essence reaches within the
human struggle for survival and
reveals the shining light at the end
of the tunnel leading to ultimate
understanding of the true meaning
of the universe, and Dottle wants
to confirm what bait I was using?
My foot shifted on the carton of
circulars and my eyes moved,for a
brief moment to a row of cereal
boxes, loud wittt color, destined
for aisle two.
I swallowed for a moment and
answered Dottie's question.
"Minnow on one hook and
squid on the other."
"Had to be a flounder," said an-
other who was Iistening. "That's
all they're catching up the Broad-
kill."
My mind raced now like a party
balloon darting through the air as
it blbws out all its air. Didn't
know what to say to recapture the
suspense.
"You mean you weren't using
chicken?" asked Dottle.
(How, I thought, did we get
from a fight-to-the-death struggle
with a flounder to a discussion of
chicken as fish bait?)
"ChickenT' I said. "What kind
of fish bait is chicken? You've
got to fish with squid and min-
nows. That's fishing."
"They're coming in here all the
time now buying fresh chicken for
fish bait," said Dottle. "I saw it
myself our at the fishing pier.
Saw people with Lloyd's IGA
plastic bags filled with chicken
and they were catching flounder."
Feeling the blood starting to
flow down from my head, leaving
a light feeling where there should
have been a sense of Some kind of
brain, I moved my foot off the cir-
culars and sat on them to regain
my composure.
"Where did this whole notion of
using chicken for fish bait ge t
started?" I mumbled.
"Where d6 you thirk?" came a
voice from beside Dottle, but out
Continued on page 8
CAPE GAZETTE, Friday, June 20 - June 26, 1997 - 7
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• i -:-, '- , ....
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311 - $16,000
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