My Witt's End

Three Little Words

On the way home from the recycle center this morning I decided to check out a little pond I'd only glimpsed about a year ago. I thought it might offer some close-to-home bluegill fishing. It is not exactly secluded, however, it's far enough off the beaten path to be easily missed. And, since no boats are allowed, I'm sure it's bypassed by most of the fishing crowd.


Sure enough, sitting like a little gem, lined with trees (but not so many that a fly fisher couldn't find a good spot) was the pond as I remembered. Since I did not have a loaded rod in the car (an error I hope to correct) this was purely a scouting mission. I checked around the edges for telltale signs of other fishers, things like empty beer cans, cigarette butts, or carelessly discarded fishing line. All looked good.


Then I spotted a fellow about 50 yards along the shoreline, eyes focused on a small bobber about 25 feet out. I walked over to him and asked: "Any fish in this pond?"


He looked at me like I had just arrived from Planet Jupiter and said: "Does it matter?"



Sharon Kass September 16, 2017 @12:45 pm

Condolences on the passing of your brother Cliff. You should know, however, that the truth about "LGBTQ" is rising and will prevail. In his early years he didn't bond well with his father. See JosephNicolosi dot com and NARTH dot com. The truth is better--even when it hurts.

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