Once Bitten, Twice Shy

By Bill Yanger


They’re back. Here's another in a continuing series of imagined conversations over coffee at the Rod & Reel Pier. Any resemblance to persons or personalities, real or imagined, is entirely coincidental and mostly unintended.


Good morning.

Hey! Nice…uh…coat.

Like it?

Yeah, some climber just called from Mt. Everest, he wants it back.

What can I say, it got cold, like overnight, and the thing’s toasty.

Dude, you’re wearing khaki shorts and flip flops.

It’s not that cold, come on.

Right. So anyway, why the bandage on your hand?

Nothin.

Nothing? Sure looks like something to me, all wrapped up professional like. Cut yourself carving the Thanksgiving turkey?

Nope.

Open a knuckle changing spark plugs in that thing you call a boat?

Nah, she’s runnin’ sweet as ever.

What then?

Ain’t a big deal. Just learned a tough lesson, that’s all.

Looks like a painful lesson. It still hurt?

A little sore yeah but I’ll get over it. Just won’t do that again. Ever.

What again?

Kind of a long story.

You got a steaming cup a coffee and here come my scrambled eggs as we speak. Plenty of time. Talk to me.

You’re sure a nosy S-O-B.

Damn right. And you’re stubborn. Just tell me the story before I stick this fork in that wound of yours.

Alright alright. You’re not gonna believe it but whatever. You know I’ve been following that school of redfish over on the bulkhead? Up towards the river?

Yeah yeah, went there with you last fall. My forearms are still sore from fighting them that morning.

Well they’re back this year and I’ve been hitting ‘em for the last few months. We have an understanding.

An understanding…

Yep, they cooperate and I don’t get greedy.

Tough to be greedy when you can only keep one a day.

But I only keep one every three or four trips. Catch and release the rest.

How magnanimous of you.

Is that good or bad?

Never mind. Continue.

So anyway, believe it or not there’s this shark, a bonnethead, maybe four feet long, big for a bonnet on the flats, started showing up and hanging around.

Same one?

Same one every trip. Got a chunk whacked out of his dorsal, shows white in the sun. Even seen a little she-shark with him once or twice, hanging close by him.

So catch him.

No, no, no. I’m not a shark guy. Besides the boy’s smart. And real aggressive. Thinks the flat’s are his territory. Circles the boat and charges in just to let you know he’s there and he’s stickin’ around. Did the same thing to some guys who were fishing near me last week. Nothing real bad just being his shark self, you know?

He’s a shark, man. He don’t “think,” just eats first and asks questions later. I say catch him, whack him and feed him to folks who like shark steaks. Plenty of those around here.

Yeah, that’s what those guys fishing out there were sayin’ too. Kept complaining he was running the trout off the flat. I tried to persuade them different, I mean, I was catching fish no problem, so was another boat. So I guess I sorta stuck up for Sharky, at least for his right to be there too, you know, but they looked at me like I was five beers into a six pack.

Were you?

Don’t drink alone, you know that. Anyway those boys were determined to carve that shark up one way or another, and for no good reason if you ask me. Wasn’t much I said changed that.

They catch him?

Yes…and no…kinda. Guy had a real light rig, just plugging for trout. Didn’t have a clue what he was doing and just kept flinging a lure at him. Guess Sharky had enough of it and he bit. Fight on. That puny rod had no backbone, no match for four feet of pissed-off muscle, least not quick like. Sharky about stripped the guy’s line clean off the spool then splashed around trying to throw the plug. Seemed like they went at it all morning and the guy even tag-teamed with his buddies who each took a turn just slowly wearin’ him down a little at a time. I kept telling them they oughta cut the line and leave him be. Just flipped me off.

They get him in?

Sharky had fight in him, boy. He’d take a breather, circle the boat, then make another run. I could hear that wimpy reel squealing like a piglet. Oh yeah and She-Shark, she showed up again too. Circled and followed Sharky. It was pretty intense man, very real stuff. The yay-hoos eventually got him next to their boat and looked at each other like “What do we do now?”

They didn’t have a net?

A four-foot shark with a bad attitude in a trout net? Good luck with that. Plus, they could all see that their hands would fit nicely in Sharky’s mouth.

So what’d they do?

One of the geniuses took the bait-net handle, you know, like the foot-long end of a broom stick and started smacking Sharky on the head. And I can tell you the only head around here harder is yours. It just pissed him off again. He gave one last thrash and broke the line. Swam away.

So that’s it?

That’s it.

And your hand?

Oh yeah, that. I was fixing to head back to the dock myself when I saw Sharky kinda sittin’ still a ways over. He never sits still. So I idled over for a look. He was hurtin’ for certain, tapped out. I swear he looked up at me with one eye on the lip of the bonnet as if to say, “Did you see that shit?”

He…uh…looked at you.

Yeah, right at me, man. I told you it was real. He was whipped, ‘bout done for. So I leaned over the gunnel and slid my hand just in front of his back fin, way away from his teeth end, believe me, and started pulling him back and forth to push water through his gills.

Florence Frigging Nightingale, you are.

Yeah, great, wonderful because that’s when this happened.

Your hand?

Yessir. Damn She-Shark shot from under the boat and nailed the fat part of my hand here between the wrist and the pinky. Sliced it good, too. Even left a little tooth in one gash.

She bit you?! Come on, you’re kidding me, right?

Told you you wouldn’t believe me. Does this look like I’m kidding you? Sixteen stitches worth of kidding, my friend.

But what the hell did you do? You were trying to help.

Didn't matter to her. I mean think about. We're talking sharks here. Probably don't think a whole lot about gratitude, you know?

Wow, some story. Get healed up and we’ll go catch his ass, her too. Buy a keg, have a shark fry.

Nah, no point in that. I’ll just leave ‘em alone. Buddy of mine says Sharky’s back out there, still chargin’ boats and claimin’ territory, just being a shark. Probably still has a headache though.

Guess there’s a lesson there somewhere, huh?

Plenty of them. Believe me pal, plenty of them. Gotta go. Doctor's appointment.

Don't forget your coat. See you tomorrow?

Yeah, tomorrow.


© 2010 – William L. Yanger