The Sweet Sting

 

I am long and my job is to push water and move like frantic fleeing baitfish. My base is cold steel and it has one purpose. That is piercing cold blooded flesh. My tail is long and it shakes and whirls like a dancing girl working her way through college. My body is made from various synthetic materials mixed with deer hair tied in with countless different techniques.

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Day after day I go on rides in the boat waiting for my number to be called. I sit in a box of my peers waiting. Some days it seems like the box never opens and only one of my brothers gets a chance to swim. Other days we see the light of day every ten minutes.

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Today. Today is the day my number got called. The snap was run through my eye and great care was taken to make sure it was shut securely. I made many flights and swims back. A 35 footer close to some laid down trees with a slower strip… Strip…pause. A longer cast over some boulders with a fast retrieve. After each cast and retrieve I was spun in circles at the side of the boat.

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One more cast at nothing. The bank was baron. I had just landed when I felt it. The sweet sting. It was the sting of teeth burying into my side, but my razor sharp point did its job and cut deep into the corner of the beasts mouth. The fight was not long, but it was viscous and I stayed put. Once in the boat, I was quickly removed and thrown to the side as multiple pictures were taken of my mighty opponent. I won but he swam away fine, now it’s time to reset the counter and wait for my next chance to play.

By Chad Bauer
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Rich Duda

About Rich Duda

Site admin. Obsessive angler. Cancer nurse.
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