GROWING UP ON FROZEN CREEK

 

MEMORIES OF GROWING UP ON FROZEN CREEK

 

I dug up a Prince Albert Tobacco tin full of worms up by the corn crib and walked across the foot log crossing Frozen Creek. I trailed the creek down toward Buren Morgan’s place and found a deep hole where my brother Michael had caught a 14-inch rainbow trout. Well, to hear Mike tell it, the fish was a good 18 inches. Mike has been known to exgaggerate.

I sat down on the creekbank in the long wheat grass and unwound my fishing line from my favorite alder pole. I had an old treble hook on the leader, so I changed it out with a brand new Eagle Claw hook that I had bought that morning at Gerald Burch’s little country store about two miles away on highway 64. Once I got the triple wound knot tied on the leader, I sacrificed a worm and tossed the line with two small sinkers into the creek. The current took the bait to the center of the hole where I hoped the big one was resting.

As I sat there on the creekbank relaxing, my gaze settled upstream on a cottonmouth snake gently swimming down the middle of the creek. As it got closer, it opened its mouth and I realized why they call it a cottonmouth. Two sharp fangs dropped from a blanket of snow-white flesh. It was obviously preparing to bite down on something. There was plenty of creatures for the moccasin to bite in Frozen Creek. We had muskrats, big water rats, hog sucker bottom feeder fish and unsuspecting bare feet of those who chose to walk the creek.

The sun was warming up the day and my eyes were growing tired. The gentle gurgling of the water was slowly putting me to sleep. Since it had happened before that I dozed off in such a serene setting, I had prepared. I had cut a forked branch from a willow sapling to hold my fishing pole. So, I leaned back and was just dozing off when a crack of thunder caused me to awaken and look at the sky. The sun was now gazing through a dark cloud and I could tell that it was going to come a rain. I got up from my comfortable position and made my way back to the corncrib. In my rush, I almost slipped off the foot log. Just as I approached the corn crib, the rain came down in torrents. Slipping through the open doorway of the corncrib, I settled down on a pile of hay over the corn cobs. The tin roof echoed the sound of the initial burst of rain. The thunder settled down and the rain became a gentler patter on the tin roof which slowly put me to sleep.

The hog in the pen next to the corncrib bounced off the walls of the pen and woke me. I took my time getting to my feet and looked out on the return of the sun shining through the haze of the clouds. The rain had stopped. I jumped down onto the wet ground and made my way back to my fishing pole.

As I pulled the line in, I realized that a beautiful sun perch had made a lunch of the sacrificed worm and the sharp Eagle Claw hook had latched on to the perch’s upper lip. The perch was nice and fat with very sharp upper fins. I cut a small branch and run it through the bright pink gills as I unhooked the perch. It was about 6 inches wide and 10 inches long. To avoid a jab of the perch’s fins, I held the fins back with one hand as I removed my hook. I took my camping knife and scraped the scales into the creek and cleaned the fish. It was tasty with a piece of Mama’s corn bread and a bowl of soup beans with hot sauce and onion. This was a typical dog day afternoon growing up on Frozen Creek.